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“Going in,” Maria says. She taps a few more spots, then inserts the needle.
Calamity’s eyes go wide, and he erupts in a startled yelp.
I hold his collar with both hands, every muscle straining to keep him in place. “You’re okay, boy. You’re okay.”
He pushes on his back legs.
“You out?” I ask Maria, not daring to look away from his face.
Maria steps back. “I’m out. We’re good.”
“Ease off him,” I tell Todd. “Gently and slowly release the pressure, but keep a firm grip.”
Todd does as instructed.
Calamity tries to push off again, but we have him surrounded. “You ready to go back to Mom?” I ask him. “Maria, treat?”
She sets the needle aside and moves toward the jar of oversize milk bones.
“It’s a big treat for a big boy,” I say.
She passes me the bone, and even though it’s the size of my hand, Calamity downs it in two chomps.
“No exam on this one?” I ask Todd.
He holds on to the lead attached to the dog harness. “Just a shot.”
I help them all the way to the back door of the exam room, and then Todd takes it from there.
I’m glad that’s over. I’m about to head to my office when I realize I have Calamity slobber all over my hands. I pause by the sink, but only turn on the water before I catch a flash of pale-blue scrubs. Ensley.
I swiftly wash and dry my hands and head toward the hall. She’s at the pharmacy, speaking to Vera about a question from a caller.
I step inside my office, thinking I’ll get to some paperwork, but when she comes out, only inches from my door, an instinct takes over, and I reach out and grab her hand.
“Drew? I mean Dr.Daniels?”
I drag her inside the room and close the door.
Within moments, I have her pressed against the wall, my mouth on hers. I’ve been desperate for the taste of her since I woke up this morning.
Her mouth is all cinnamon gum, and she smells of hand lotion and pet treats. It might be the most perfect combination I’ve ever encountered.
Our tongues linger together, and I lean into her, wanting to feel every curve after the glimpse I got in the lobby.
I didn’t get to touch her skin last night, not in the dress and the tights, so my hands slip beneath the cotton top, my fingers sliding along her ribs.
She sucks in a breath, her chest heaving against mine.
Front-hook bra. I can’t resist. I snap it open and fill my hands with her breasts. The nipples harden and elongate, and I revel in the feel of them as my thumbs cross over the puckered buds.
I grind my hips against hers. We shouldn’t have waited. I should’ve taken her right then on the bench, ripped those tights out of the way, and kept to my standard of one night only.
Even if I owed her two more dates, I could have done anything, something terribly public, something short. Kept it in my head that they weren’t dates, they were random occasions we happened to be in the same place, just like work.
I want her to be like all the others. To flash with heat, to take her, and then to move on.
Stretching it out like this is painful. It takes up too much of my mental energy.
