Page 70 of Doctor’s Forbidden Match

We kiss for a while, and I keep my hands away from crossing any more lines. I force myself to pull away, noticing how her eyes are heavy-lidded, her breathing fast.

“I should go,” I say, even though every part of me wants to curl up in this bed with her.

“Stay,” she murmurs. “Just for a little while.”

“If I stay, I won’t leave.”

She smiles sheepishly. “Would that be so bad?”

Yes. Fuck yes. Because I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, and I need distance to think clearly. Need to figure out if this is real or just lust and proximity.

“Please sleep, Hannah.” I press one last kiss to her forehead. “I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

She nods, albeit reluctantly. “Okay.”

I force myself to stand, to walk to the door. When I look back, she’s already reading her lines, her hair spread across the pillow, her lips still swollen from my kisses.

God, she’s so fucking beautiful.

I need to leave now.

I quietly leave her bedroom and stand in the hallway for a second, trying to collect myself. My whole body is wound tight, every nerve ending on fire.

Grabbing my jacket and things from the living room, I head out to my car, closing the door behind me. The cool night air does nothing to calm the heat pumping through my body. The drive home isn’t silent like usual. My mind replays every moment with her. Her pale-blue bra and panties, her skin under my hands, the sounds she made, the way she looked pleadingly at me… like I was everything.

My house is dark when I arrive, cold and empty in a way that’s never bothered me before. But now, after spending the evening in Hannah’s warm, lived-in space, my place feels like exactly what it is—a house, not a home.

I don’t bother turning on the lights as I head straight for my bedroom, stripping off my clothes as I go. By the time I reach my bed, I’m down to my boxers and so fucking hard.

I fall back onto the mattress, one arm thrown over my eyes.

I should shower and try to sleep.

But I can’t switch off. My hand moves to my dick, palming myself over the boxers. I groan, my hips jerking up into my touch.

This is so fucking pathetic.

I’m a forty-five-year-old who can’t control his urges.

But I can’t stop thinking about her, and I need relief. I close my eyes and see her looking down at me as I was helping her change, her nearly begging me with her breathy “please.”

I shove my boxers down, freeing myself, and wrap my hand around my length. Already wet at the tip.

I think about what would’ve happened if I’d given in and said yes tonight. If I’d let myself give in to what we both wanted.

I’d have stripped her nightgown right off, laid her out on her bed, and kissed every inch of her body with my lips and tongue until she was begging me to fuck her. I would’ve made her wait, though, because I would want to taste her and make her come on my tongue before I sink myself into her pussy.

My hands move faster, my breathing harsh in the quiet room.

What would she feel like? Would she moan my name? Zac…

“Fuck, yes,” I grunt, my free hand fisting the sheets.

I picture her face, flushed and wanting. Those blue eyes looking up at me with desire as I push inside her. The way she’d gasp, the way she’d feel—

I come hard, my body jerking, her name on my lips. “Hannaaah.”

Afterward, I just lie there, chest heaving, staring at the ceiling. The release should’ve cleared my head and eased the tension. But it didn’t. Instead, I want her more.