Page 5 of The Doctor

“With this wrist, you shouldn’t be taking care of yourself.”

He waved me off. “I’m perfectly capable. Just be happy you don’t have a pretty young thing up in your business, Zeno. You’re better off without one.”

Another thud came from upstairs. Vin lifted his gaze to the stairs over my shoulder.

“Right. Well. Looks like your car is waiting. Best be going now. Take care of yourself, and I’ll see you back here in two weeks.”

Slamming the door shut between us, I rested my back against the solid wood, taking in long, slow breaths, as if that could help calm me before I set out on my warpath. Finally, I raced up the stairs, taking two at a time and pulling something in my knee as I did.

Fuck, I was too old for this shit.

I didn’t bother knocking. I burst into Clara’s room, ready to yell at her once again for not listening, for not being quiet when she knew I had patients here. But what I saw stopped me in my tracks.

Forget a storm. Clara Vinci was a category five hurricane.

And it looked like she’d just landed in the guest room she’d taken over as her own when she was just a girl.

The mess strewn across the floor hadn’t been here just this morning. Papers, books, clothes, discarded plates of half-eaten food. The sweater she’d shown up in earlier—the fucking sweater that barely covered her tits—was hanging from the curtain rod by a snagged thread on the sleeve. The skirt she’d been wearing was draped over the mirror on her desk-slash-vanity, and the other things—things I couldn’t focus on unless I wanted to risk my sanity taking a long-ass vacation without me—were spread across the room with no rhyme or reason.

The ground beneath my feet seemed to shake, and the quaking rose through my body until I couldn’t be sure if it was me or the house. Sanity be damned, I turned my attention from the mess in the room to the bed.

Clara was laying there, ass against the wall and her legs extended upward, as if the world had tilted on its axis and she’d decided to make the most of it, settling herself against the mattress to rest. She was wearing the same fucking stockings—some frilly, lacy thing that drove my dick to want disastrous things—that she’d had on when she’d come strutting in the front door of my house.

Hands shaking, I reached for the door jamb, gripping it until my knuckles went white. “What the ever-loving fuck?”

Clara tilted her head until I could see her brown eyes staring back at me. Something in them tried to calm me, while everything else about her had blood pulsing through my body at a fever pitch.

“Zeno!” She tilted, dropping her legs to the side, and the earth moved underneath my feet as she climbed onto her hands and knees.

My mouth went dry as dust.

She’d stolen one of my Henley’s. The collar was left unbuttoned, and I could see straight into it, down past her breasts, her smooth stomach, to the tiny, lacy panties she had on underneath.

“The fuck happened in here?” I forced it over my parched tongue as my blood flowed places other than my brain.

Thankfully, she sat back on her heels, removing her breasts and her half-naked form from my view. Kind of. My shirt pooled around her hips, not quite covering the tiny patch of cloth keeping me from seeing things I wasn’t meant to see.

She gave half a shrug, tilting her head to the side, and it felt like I was on unstable ground. “There was a spider.”

“Spider.” I dragged my gaze from where she sat, looking, once again, at the destruction strewn across the room. I turned my attention back to her and got swept up in the raging storm as I found her crossing the room to my side. “A spider caused this?”

“Don’t be dense.” She gripped my arm with one hand, like she could keep me from moving, from running the hell away. Then she pushed up on her toes, pressed a kiss to my cheek, and wrapped her arms around my neck. “You could thank me, you know. I took care of it for you.”

Swallowing hard, I lifted my gaze to the ceiling, praying like hell I could keep my body under control. Though this time, it wasn’t my dick I was worried about. Even Clara’s hands spreading across my tense muscles did little to ease the shaking and the wave of dizziness that threatened to bring me to my knees.

“Where is it?”

“Dead.” She didn’t let go, and even though I knew I shouldn’t, I released the door jamb and wrapped an arm around her, dragging her sweet comfort as close as I could. “Smooshed under my book, ground between two sheets of paper, ripped up into tiny shreds and flushed down the toilet.”

“You sure it’s dead?”

A quiet giggle tumbled across her lips. “Of course, I’m sure. You think I wouldn’t take care of you? After everything you do for me?”

“Clara.” I stilled her hand as it traveled down my torso, dipping lower than I preferred. There was too much innuendo in her voice for my liking. Too much suggestion in the press of her body to mine. “You’re supposed to be studying.”

She huffed out a breath, then edged back, though not enough. Her blank face twitched before she tugged on a mask of feigned happiness I could see straight through. “I’m all done.”

“You have two finals tomorrow. You need to study.”