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“Good morning,” I murmur. “How’d you sleep?”
He smiles and says with a stretch, “Terrible. I kept waking up in the night, hard and wanting to have my way with you again.”
“You should have woken me up,” I say, giving his bare chest a light slap.
“No, you were sleeping,” he says, resting a warm hand on my hip under the covers. “You were too peaceful to wake up. And beautiful.” His brows furrow as he squints. “How do you look this beautiful first thing in the morning?”
“You don’t have your contacts in or your glasses,” I remind him with a laugh. “You’re half blind.”
He shakes his head, his lips curving. “Nope. I can see just fine. Want me to go grab coffee from downstairs while you take the first shower?”
“That’s a very sweet offer.” I pretend to consider this option for the morning even as I reach beneath the covers, skimming my fingers over the ridge in his boxer briefs. “Or we could have a quickie, share a shower, and grab coffee on the way to the first session.”
“Genius,” he says, making me giggle as he rolls on top of me. “You would have destroyed everyone in medical school.”
“I really would have,” I agree, sighing happily as I wrap my legs around his waist and tilt my head back to make room for his lips at my neck. “If only I’d had the courage to apply.”
He pulls back abruptly. “What?”
“Nothing.” I try to pull him back to me, but he resists. I smile. “It’s nothing.”
“You never told me you thought about med school. Not once in six years of tea in the afternoon.”
I shrug a bare shoulder. “I don’t know. I guess I was a little embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed.” He grunts. “For what reason?”
I shrug again, feeling even more self-conscious. “I guess I thought you would judge me. Either think I was a coward for not going for it or…” I hesitate but remember our commitment to being honest with each other and add, “Or that you’d think I was silly for even thinking I could have made it as a doctor.”
He holds my gaze for a long, serious moment before he whispers, “You would have made an incredible doctor. You still could.”
I huff, but smile, a little surprised that he believes in me this much. Maybe he’s noticed more about me than I thought. Or simply noticed…different things. “I’m too old.”
“You are not. Thirty isn’t too old to apply to medical school. There were plenty of people in their thirties in my program. You should do it.”
“I’d rather do you,” I tease, reaching down to pull his boxers down in the back.
He frowns harder. “You can’t distract me with sex.”
I arch a brow as I slither out of the t-shirt I slept in and toss it onto the floor. “Oh, I bet I can.”
He glances down at my breasts, exhaling a soft breath. “All right. You absolutely can. But this is still important. You should do what you feel called to do. You’re an incredible nurse, but if you want to provide patient care in a different way, you should do whatever it takes to make that happen. I’ll help. In any way I can.”
“Thank you, Barrett. Really, that means so much to me,” I say, more touched than I can express with words.
So, I express it by going down on him and riding his cock instead. We get so into our morning fun that by the time we’re done, we only have twenty minutes to get to the session. Barrett jumps in the shower, while I elect for a washcloth wipe down in the name of having time to do my makeup and pull my hair into a French braid.
We dash down the stairs with just enough time to grab coffees and slide, breathless, into the chairs the other nurses have saved for us with just a few seconds to spare.
But a few seconds is all it takes for the six of them to exchange glances and smile. Gretchen shoots me two enthusiastic thumbs-up as Kinsey leans in to whisper, “About time. You two have always been perfect for each other.”
I try to bite back my smile but lose the fight as Barrett gives my knee a quick squeeze and whispers to Kinsey from my other side, “Agreed.”
Kinsey laughs, the session begins, and I proceed to have one of the best weekends of my life. But can this shiny new relationship stand the test of our normal lives back home?
I guess we’re about to find out.
Chapter Nineteen
BARRETT
Two Weeks Later
I’m a scientist not a spiritualist.
I prefer fact over fiction and statistics over predictions.
I do not believe in fairies, ghosts, leprechauns, calorie-free cooking spray—if it’s made of pure olive oil, I don’t care what the label says, it has calories, end of debate—or miracles.
