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“I can’t be your doctor, Wes. I can’t.”
“Then give me Dr. Bad Breath.” His mouth landed on my nipple and he sucked until it was hard and perked in his teeth.
I nodded. That could work. I could pass his case off first thing in the morning. Hand him over to Dr. Evans and forego the doctor-patient relationship conflict. But I felt the queasiness in my stomach. That wasn’t the only problem. It was him. It was the womanizing playboy who had me flipped upside down.
In less than twenty-four hours, he had convinced me to do things I didn’t know I wanted to do. Craved to do. He had seduced me not five steps into his kitchen. He had taken me how he wanted and when he wanted, and I loved it. I loved how he possessed me. I loved how he claimed my body. But it wasn’t real. Wes Blakefield was dangerous. The instant I walked out the door, another woman could walk in, and she’d hear all the same lines and get all the same great, amazing sex. This wasn’t my reality. This was his.
I pushed against his shoulders until he released me. “Something wrong?”
I nodded. “I can’t do this, Wes. None of it.” I pulled the jersey down over my breasts, covering them from his view. The boxers were too far out of reach, and he was still deep inside me.
“I don’t get it.” He leaned in for a kiss, but I turned my head. “We’re still having fun, aren’t we?”
I felt stupid. I was on an emotional roller coaster I shouldn’t be riding. He never promised me anything other than one night. And how was I supposed to know that an epic night of sex would penetrate feelings I didn’t think were possible to touch? He had unlocked Pandora’s box and had no idea.
“Everything’s not about fun.”
“Isn’t it?” The devilish grin was back as his shaft slid inside me again.
My back arched from the intensity. “You can’t do that,” I moaned. “I can’t think.”
“To be honest, this is the first conversation I think I’ve had while I was fucking a woman, but it’s kind of hot.” His thumb pressed on my lip, and I took it in my mouth. “Don’t fight how this feels,” he told me. I bit down on his thumb. “Ow.”
I smiled. “How did that feel?”
“I only have one good hand right now, so don’t bite off my fingers.” He scowled.
“You won’t listen to me. I had to get your attention.” I glared at him.
“You don’t think you have my attention? I’m completely focused on you and only you. I’m focused on kissing you. Touching you. Fucking you. Making you come over and over.”
My breath hitched and my heart pounded. My body was pulling me in two. The brain that told me to run like hell and get out of Wes’s apartment, and the fire raging in my veins that told me to give myself to this man as long as he wanted me. Nothing had ever felt so good as him.
His lips brushed over my mouth. “Tell me you want me, Doc. Tell me you don’t want me to stop.”
It was like lightning starting a fire. There was no way to put it out until I was completely spent in his arms. “I want you, Wes.”
He slammed into me maybe three or four times, I couldn’t count. We were both so high from each other the peak was only vibrations away. I clung to him, spiraling out of control as he sliced through me.
“Fuck,” he growled in my ear.
I looked in his glowing eyes, wishing to hell this was all real, but knowing I was only his Sunday football distraction.
11
Wes
I couldn’t figure her out. But fuck, I’d never tried to figure a woman out before. I was in new territory. Overnight guests never stayed past lunch. It was dinner, the next day.
Lennon sat on the kitchen stool, twirling Chinese noodles on a pair of chopsticks.
“So, I have some questions for you, Mr. Quarterback.”
She was still wearing my jersey and I fucking loved it. Her ass was firm and round. I couldn’t get enough of it. I tried to focus on her words and not all the things I wanted to do to that ass of hers.
“I’m sure you do.” I popped half an eggroll in my mouth.
“Longest relationship?” She poured herself a second glass of wine and waited for my answer.
