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“That’s what it says on the door to my office,” I reply and he gives me a shrewd look.
“So, you’re in love with a married woman, then?”
“She’s divorced.”
“Officially? As in, she filed?”
“Yes.”
“Well that’s something.”
“There’s more.”
“Of course, there is. Go on…”
“Her husband caught us.”
“And you still have a job?” He raises an eyebrow at me as he pulls the cart to a stop.
I give him a quick rundown of what happened with her husband and the tape, how Wells had hired a private investigator, and how we’d run into his best friend that night, effectively setting the chaos into motion. When I finally stop, I think for the first time ever Mitch Tucker is speechless.
“Say something. Tell me, how bad it will be if it comes out that we were together while she was married. That I was sleeping with my patient.”
He lets out a breath and steadies himself to speak. “Bad. They’ll take your license, Will…how did this happen? This isn’t like you.”
I shake my head. “I know. Things just got out of control. In the beginning, I thought that if I just slept with her once I’d get it out of my system and that would be the end of it. I knew I was crossing a line but I was drawn to her like no one else. I tried everything to forget about her. I even slept with a woman that looked like her to try and get the fantasy out of my system.”
I wince, remembering that night and how sleeping with a woman that favored Charlotte, a woman I’d been lusting after for weeks didn’t even begin to scratch the itch.
She’s here.
Those two words surround me, making me instantly hard as if my body is already pre-dispositioned to react to her presence. My eyes rake over her once, twice, three times before I narrow them slightly.
Is it her? I lean forward, trying to ignore my brother Drew as he talks about his current woman troubles. The last thing I want to do is my job when I’m off the clock. And yet my brother always had some issue. I guess that comes with the territory of fucking every woman in Atlanta.
Her brown hair is covering her face, the familiar waves cascading down and around her shoulders, curling just under her breasts. Breasts that just this morning, I thought about running my cock between.
I lick my lips and shift slightly, trying to relieve the ache in my dick as I picture Charlotte Pierce across the room.
Is it her?
The bar’s lighting is low creating an intimate ambiance for people unwinding after a long day.
A long week.
Hell, for me, a long month.
One month, thirty tortuous days of breaking my dick off thinking about my married patient. Thinking about her soft curves underneath my fingertips, her full pouty lips that she sinks her teeth into. Lips I want to kiss. I want to kiss her so thoroughly she wouldn’t have a coherent thought in her brain.
Certainly not that she had a husband.
I wanted to run my tongue between her lips, and make love to her mouth, tasting every inch of her.
Her eyes find mine and only then do I realize how long I’ve been staring.
Shit.
Not her.
