Page 65 of Doctor’s Forbidden Match

“Frighty?” he repeats with one eyebrow raised in that infuriatingly attractive way he does. There’s a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth, softening the hard line of his work face.

The air between us shifts, becoming charged. This small room suddenly feels even smaller, the walls pressing in. I don’t know if this is a bad choice, but I decide to be brave. There’s nothing to lose by being honest… not anymore. We’ve been dancing around this for days, ever since that first meeting when I realized my new orthopedic surgeon was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen.

“You make me nervous,” I admit quietly, breathily, leaning in slightly.

Like he knows exactly what I’m not saying, he looks up at the ceiling, throat working as he sucks in a deep breath, as if he needs to physically collect himself. Desire mixed with professional ethics. Which one will win?

When he brings his gaze back to meet mine, his eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them, making my stomach tighten.

“You make me nervous.” His words are so quiet I almost miss them. Seeming like he doesn’t want to admit it, but can’t help himself. “Do you have any idea how inappropriate this is? How many lines I’d be crossing?”

The room temperature seems to rise, or maybe it’s just me, but then he takes a step back. His hands slip slowly over my thighs as he retreats.

“Don’t—” I rush to say in desperation. Don’t go? Don’t leave? Don’t stop touching me? Don’t remind me why this can’t happen?

His hands freeze. His whole body goes still except for his chest, which rises and falls with increasingly heavy breaths. My heart is beating so fast and loud, it pounds in my ears, drowning out everything else.

Then his fingers skim up my thighs, featherlight and deliberate. He steps closer again, closing the distance he’d just created. His forehead drops to mine, and his eyes flutter closed. He sucks in a loud, shuddering breath and says, “I can’t.”

He says it like he’s in pain, and it makes me not push because I can’t be selfish. I’d be making him risk everything. His medical license. His career. His reputation. Everything he’s worked for could be destroyed by one ethics complaint, one report to the medical board. That’s completely unfair to him. But no one would know about us to make a complaint…

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, meaning it. Sorry for wanting him. Sorry for making this harder. Sorry for not being just another patient he could forget about after I’m healed.

He lifts his forehead from mine but keeps his face achingly close. His gaze drops to my mouth, and I don’t even realize I’m doing it until my tongue darts out, trying to wet my suddenly dry lips. My throat feels tight, and I struggle to swallow around the lump forming there.

He groans—actually groans—and the word “fuck” falls from his lips. My whole body burns hotter at the sound, and I can’t help but shift closer.

“I can’t—” His voice breaks. “I could lose my license. I could lose everything.”

“I know.” I try to sound understanding, like I’m okay with this, even though every nerve in my body is screaming for him to stay close. “I know what you’re risking. I would never—”

His gaze roams my face, like he’s trying to memorize it. When he finally meets my eyes again, his expression is filled with something I’ve seen many times before: in the exam room when his fingers lingered for too long while checking my ankle, in the kitchen when he insisted on cooking for me, in the hallway when he thought I wasn’t looking.

Something I’d mistaken for professional concern. But now, with his body pressed against mine and his breathing ragged, I understand it was always something else entirely. Something he’d been fighting to hide, fighting to deny, fighting to remain ethical about.

Lost in my own head, I almost miss the moment he cracks. The exact second when he growls, “Fuck it. Fuck everything.”

And then his mouth is on mine.

I freeze for a heartbeat, my brain struggling to catch up with the reality of what’s happening. But then it registers… Zac is kissing me. My doctor is kissing me. And I melt into him like I’ve been waiting for this moment.

One of his hands moves to my waist, gripping tight, while the other slides up along my hair to cup the back of my head. He tugs me toward him with both hands, pulling me impossibly closer, and I go willingly. This is wrong. This violates every ethical code. And I don’t care. Not one bit.

My legs wrap around his lower back, even with the boot, and my hand tangles in the hair at the nape of his neck, holding to him to me.

As his tongue grazes my lips, seeking entrance, I open immediately, welcoming him inside. His taste floods my senses—coffee and him.

A groan escapes my throat, and I try to swallow it back, scared this is a dream, and he’ll suddenly push me away, remembering all the reasons this can’t happen. But he doesn’t. If anything, he kisses me deeper.

His tongue is dominant over mine, taking control, and I let him, surrendering completely. It feels even better than I could’ve imagined. This kiss makes me crave him on a level I didn’t know existed.

We’re both pulling each other tighter, hands grasping and desperate, like we need to get closer, even though there’s no room left between us. Every inch of our bodies that can touch is touching, and still, it’s not enough. His hands smooth down my back, pressing me against him; his heart thundering against my chest as wildly as my own.

When he finally pulls back, we’re both breathing hard. He rests his forehead against mine again, and his eyes are still closed, like he’s afraid to open them and face what we’ve done.

Breathing him in, I’m terrified that if either of us speaks, it’ll break whatever this is. Terrified, too, that he’s already regretting it, and that when he opens his eyes, I’ll see the wall slam back up, stronger than before.

“I’m going to hell,” he whispers, but his hands don’t leave my body. “The medical board, Mr. Peltz, they’re going to crucify me.”