Dr. Good by Flora Ferrari

Chapter Seven

Macie

I pace up and down my living room with Derrick’s note in my hand, twisting it this way and that, trying to convince myself that somehow this isn’t Derrick.

He’s not back to make my life hell, the same way he made it hell for so many years.

Somebody else is playing a trick on me…

But then I look down at the note and dread-filled certainty moves through me because I recognize the handwriting. I remember it from high school, the way it would lope across the page, always like he was in a hurry even if he had nowhere to be.

My heart is still pounding, and not just from the note. Talking to Miller sent butterflies scurrying around my body, sending waves of anxiety surging through me, like any second I could just scream and let out all the tension.

It seems impossible that he’s actually going to come here to help me.

But he said he would and he doesn’t seem like a liar.

Something about the solid way he speaks, the conviction in his voice, tells me he’s a man of his word, that he’d never let me down.

I try to shut down those silly thoughts inside of me, telling myself it’s ridiculous.

He doesn’t want me like that.

The only reason he’s coming over here is that I got so dramatic on the phone. He probably thinks I’m some immature drama queen making a fuss over nothing, but out of a sense of duty, he’s going to swing by anyway…

Probably when he’s on his way to a date.

Or maybe he’ll even bring his date with him, some tall billboard-type with legs that are sleek and skinny and go on and on forever. They’ll stand at the door, Miller in a suave suit and his date in some glittering ensemble, and they’ll tilt their heads at me like I’m a specimen in a zoo.

“Aw,” I imagine the woman saying. “Is the little girl scared?”

I grab my cell phone from the table, navigating to Miller’s number.

Maybe I should cancel.

It is strange that he offered to come by.

Knock-knock.

I know it’s Miller right away. The way he knocks on the door is so much more assertive than that other man, as though Miller is on the verge of smashing the door down any second. He knocks like he could barge in here and wrap his hands around my hips, pulling me close to him, smoothing his hands down my body until he’s clamped possessively onto my ass.

I take a deep breath, screaming silently at myself to let those vignettes die.

I can’t let myself entertain thoughts like that, because maybe that will lead me down dark avenues, where I entertain other thoughts… thoughts of tasting his lips, of running my hands through his iron hair, leaping on him to make it a reality.

And then he’d step away, a sickened look on his face.

“One second,” I call, relieved my voice sounds steadier than my nerves.

I stride over to the door and throw it open, taking in the scent of his cologne. Or maybe that’s just his scent, wafting powerfully over me, owning me like our bodies are sending out signals to each other.

He stands there in his steel-gray suit, hugging close to his body, his lips twisted into a smirk or a grimace or something… it’s difficult to tell.

My body gives a thrum when his smirk twitches, as though he can tell that I touched myself to images of him last night.

But there’s no way he could possibly know that, is there?

“Can I come in?” he asks with an ironic lilt to his voice.

“Oh, sure,” I murmur. “Sorry. But…”

He strolls past me, his shoulder brushing against my body, and then pauses and turns. “But?”

“The man who brought the note, who scared me… he said the apartment was bugged.”

Miller’s face drops for a moment, savage intent creeping into his eyes, as though he’d happily kill the man who gave me this news. “Do you think he’s telling the truth?”

“He’s capable of something like that,” I murmur. “But I can’t be sure.”

Miller sighs, and I know this is the part where he tells me he doesn’t want to get involved in this.

Bugs? Crazy stalkers? This is above my pay grade.

That’s what he’ll say as he barges out of here, an angry look on his face, furious with me for even letting him come round here.

But instead, he nods.

“Let’s go someplace else, then, just to be safe. We’ll talk in the car.”

I bite my lip, my body going hot at the thought of being locked in his car with him. Quickly I release my lip, hoping he didn’t notice.

“Let me get dressed.”

I almost run to the bedroom, imagining his eyes following me, drawn to the parts of me no other man has ever even glanced at before. It’s so silly to let myself think he’d be checking me out as I walk across the apartment because of course he freaking wouldn’t.

I change into some black pants and a hoodie, and then return to find Miller at the bookshelf, studying my titles.

“Anything you’ve read?” I murmur.

He glances over at me, an unreadable glint in his shimmering eyes. “I don’t read much fantasy. It’s more medical articles for me. But I can’t begrudge somebody for being a dreamer.”

I nod, wondering if I’m transmitting as much shyness as I feel ricocheting through me, bouncing around me like something alive and malicious, like something trying to coil around my throat and make speaking impossible.

Is he mocking me, or is he genuinely interested?

Luckily he takes my silence as concern for the bug, and he gestures toward the door, pacing over with his hands hanging suggestively at his sides.

Or perhaps they only seem suggestive as I study the way he holds himself like he could burst into carnal action at any moment, spinning and sprinting across the apartment.

He’d grab my thigh with one hand and slip his other hand up my hoodie, greedily palming my flesh until he came to my bra. Then he’d tear it off, squeezing down on my nipples, growling in my ear that I’m his and his alone… and he’s going to fuck our future into me.

I need to calm down.

My sex is tingling and my clit is burning, the sensation thrumming through me. Even the friction of my panties against my sex is driving me into crazy land, where impossible things seem far too accessible.

But no, if I kissed Miller. If I touched him. If I even told him…

He’d laughed. Of course, he’d laugh.

He stops at the door, turning to me with his eyebrow cocked and an indecipherable smirk on his face.

“I’m coming,” I murmur.

I’m coming.

I freaking wish.

I walk out into the hallway and lock the door behind me, turning to find Miller’s smirk has widened even more, and there’s a devilish glint in his eyes.

“What?” I say, my mouth suddenly dry.

“I’m just wondering if you’re going to let me in on the joke. You’re smiling like a madwoman.”

I giggle at the thought of telling him the truth, that I was just thinking about all the steamy ways he could bring me to climax.

“I guess I smile and laugh when I’m nervous.” I shrug. Of course, I could never tell him the truth. “I’m sorry.”

“Macie.” He moves close to me so I feel as if I’m submerged in his scent like I could sink and sink and keep sinking until his scent is all I know. “You don’t have to apologize for smiling, no matter what the situation is. Understand?”

I remember when I called him bossy on the phone, how much easier it was to banter with him with miles separating us when I knew I could hang up if I said anything embarrassing.

Now I’m stuck in this moment and I can’t think of anything to say.

Except for, “Yes, Miller. I understand.”

His hand twitches, and for a crazed second, I think he’s going to reach up and touch me. But then he spins on his heels and stalks down the hallway, showing me the broadness of his back, the tautness of his muscles that make me want to grab hold of him and squeeze on until I feel my nails pierce his skin.

I let out a ragged breath and then follow him, reminding myself this is all in my head.

He’s here to help me, nothing else.