Dr. Good by Flora Ferrari

Chapter Three

Macie

His hand is firm on mine, hot, his touch burning into me as he squeezes me tighter and his stark eyes gaze into me. I feel my body setting alight with even more flaring passion, with even more shivering need than has already taken possession of me at simply being close to him.

I didn’t mean to blurt everything about Mom and Dad and Jimmy, but it came spilling out as though I’d known this man my whole life, as though the crazy buried-deep pulsing inside of me wouldn’t seem ridiculous to him if I voiced it aloud.

And yet his hand is on mine, his touch hot, hotter than it was last night when I imagined him stroking up and down my body with possessive pressure.

He clears his throat, seeming to realize what he’s doing as he withdraws his hand.

“I… I’m sorry for oversharing,” I murmur into the ensuing silence, as his features turn grim again, his jaw tight, his eyes narrowed. “I know you probably didn’t want that much detail.”

My hand tingles where he just touched it, my mind bursting with thoughts of how sweaty I am, praying he wasn’t disgusted with the streaming sweat. But he makes me so freaking nervous, so aware of my own body, my nipples rubbing achingly against my bra, my panties attacking my clit with friction.

“There’s no need to apologize,” he says, his voice deep and gruff. “So you want a family because you never had one?”

I wonder if I imagine the note of rage simmering in his voice, but why would he be angry?

This is his job.

“Yes,” I murmur. “And I know how that sounds, could sound. I’m not going to be giving this child the sort of family that was taken from me. But I can give them love. I can give them a home.”

He nods shortly, staring hard at the desk like he’s finding it difficult to meet my eyes like I’ve annoyed him. “And do you work?”

“Not right now,” I say. “But I’m trying to get my career started. And I have money to start a life… my aunt, she passed away recently, and she left me plenty.”

My cheeks prick at the mention of money. I hope he doesn’t think I’m bragging or anything like that.

A voice inside me screams, Get out of your head. Be in the moment. Be with your man.

But that’s plain craziness.

Dr. Miller Marshall isn’t my man and he never will be.

“I see,” he murmurs, again in that annoyed tone.

Part of me wants to snap at him, yell at him for going cold when he just made such a lovely gesture by reaching across and taking my hand. But at the same time I know he was probably only doing that because I was getting overly emotional and he wanted to calm me down.

I have to be careful of reading too much into anything he does because then I might end up making a complete fool of myself, being too forward, and cause him to kick me out of his office.

Even so, I can’t stop myself from tracing the line of his jaw, the strong cut of his cheeks, the way his eyes seem to glimmer with wolf-like intensity. It’s like any second he could flip the table and grab me by the shoulders, lifting me off my feet and pulling me up against him.

I imagine wrapping my legs around his waist and sitting down with greedy need, chasing the pleasure of his body, grinding my sex against his manhood pressed through his pants like a promise he’s hungry to fulfill.

I push that thought away, forcing myself to focus on his next words.

“You said you were trying to start a career. What did you mean by that?”

He talks in a measured tone, as though there’s a primal piece of him afraid to let out his true emotions, his fuck-me-hard emotions like he wants to palm my breasts and greedily suck my nipples but he knows he can’t because he’d risk his job.

But no, that’s just my overactive mind screaming for what it wants to be true. It has nothing to do with reality, with the way things really are.

It’s one hundred percent steamy fantasy.

“A writer,” I murmur. “I’ve written a couple of books, but they weren’t great. I’m still learning. I’ve taken a few classes, but mostly I’m just trying to read and write as much as possible.”

“So you’ll still be able to care for your children as you work.”

“Yes,” I say passionately. “I’ve got this image… it’s silly.”

“Go on, Macie,” he growls, something else entering his voice, husky and confusing. “Tell me.”

Suddenly he’s got those glinting blues aimed at me, swimming with emotion like a turbulent sea, like he’s ready to throw his head back and roar at me.

“Just me sitting at my desk with my baby in her basket next to me, sleeping soundly, and me there trying to type as quietly as possible so I don’t wake her. It’s funny. My aunt, Jackie, she used to say I typed like I was trying to win a ‘Loudest Girl in the World’ competition.”

I giggle at the memory, Jackie’s face flooding into my mind, her kind eyes, and her witty smile.

“So you’ll be able to stay with the babies,” he says, nodding.

I let out another laugh, even as my belly tightens with nerves.

What if he snaps at me to stop laughing? What if the noise is annoying him?

I hate these pathetic thoughts and do my best to ignore them, but that doesn’t change the fact they exist.

“Babies?” I say. “I was hoping for just one, at least for now.”

He looks at me for a long moment, his temples pulsing, clenching his jaw as though he wants to roar at me to get the fuck out of his office. I shrink under his dominator’s gaze, biting down to stop myself from letting out a prey-like whimper.

If I’m prey, he’s my predator.

Except… does prey normally want to be caught?

“Slip of the tongue,” he says, smirking at me. “Of course. Just one. For now.”

“So?” I murmur. “What do you think? Am I a suitable candidate?”

“I…”

He trails off, another enigmatic look coming into his night-sky eyes.

“I’m going to need some time,” he says after a long pause. “To give it some thought.”

A note of anxiety flutters up inside of me, twisting around my chest, spreading frustrating tendrils that make me think all my hopes and dreams are going to come crashing down.

But that’s just the thing.

My hopes and dreams before entering this room were to become a single mother.

And now?

My womb screams out for Dr. Miller Marshall, for a future where he wraps those muscular arms around me and drives his stiff manhood deep inside of me, and never mind I’d probably make a fool of myself if we ever got that far, that I’d reveal how inexperienced I really am.

My body sizzles and sparks at the thought of him pushing inside of me, inching so deep his seed has no choice but to explode in primal domination over my womb.

I let out a shaky breath.

I can’t allow my mind to skip down such impossible avenues, telling me impossible things that make no freaking sense.

“Oh, okay,” I murmur, with a long-as-heck pause of my own. “Do you think there’s a problem with me?”

“What?” he snarls. “No, Macie. I just… I have to think about this.”

I stand, my hands clasped in front of me. “Okay, that makes sense. Will you be in touch?”

He nods shortly. “I have your details.”

That’s right. He has my phone number and my email, and now my body is aching at the thought of him calling me up later, his husky voice sounding down the phone.

“I couldn’t say this at the office,” I imagine him growling, “but I need to taste your pussy. I need to fuck you until your body has no choice but to get pregnant. There’s no way I’m allowing you to become a single mother. Because you’re mine.”

I curse my stampeding imagination as I turn away from the desk.

There’s no way he’d say that.

“Have a good day,” I murmur as I stride for the door, hoping he can’t detect the wavering nervousness in my voice, the nervousness which slams through my body in time with my reverberating heartbeat.

“And you, Macie,” he growls. “We’ll speak soon.”

How soon? I want to scream, but instead, I pull the door open and stride into the waiting room, my eyes low, fighting the shame that pricks my cheeks and the lust that makes my sex sizzle.

He’d never want me.

But I need him.