Page 38 of The Doctor

“Fuck, I can’t.”

“Zee—” It was a whisper cut off by a hard thrust, a plea riding on the raging wind.

But I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t ask her what, because my body was revolting and doing whatever it damn well pleased.

My balls pulled up and lightning zipped along my spine as Clara rode the steel beam of my cock as I spurted my cum onto my gut.

I tightened my grip on her, refusing to let her go.

Refusing to face what I’d just done with this girl.

Panting above me, Clara tucked her face into the crook of my neck. Her lips scraped along my throat, stirring inside of me a tsunami wave of feelings I was sure I shouldn't have.

“Clara—”

“Don’t.” It was just a whisper. “Please don’t, Zee. Please, just let me hold you. Just for a little while.”

My chest pulled tight, and I gave into her plea. I gave in, because I wanted the exact same thing.

Just for a little while.

When our breathing had calmed and the dampness between us became sticky and cold, Clara sucked in a deep breath, then lifted her head. Her eyes were still puffy, though they were no longer red. She peered down at me with a thick coat of caution painted on her face.

Through that caution, she allowed but a single crack. The tiniest smile tilting the corner of her lips.

“I love you.”

I pushed my head backward into my pillow, closed my eyes as tight as I could.

This was a nightmare.

Even worse, I still wanted her.

Clara’s fingers danced across my skin. She touched my lips, my throat, sliding down until she covered the tattoo over my heart.

My little hurricane.

I loved her too.

“Clara.” I couldn’t say more, because what would I say? That we couldn’t do this again? That this was a mistake?

It was. It was the biggest fucking mistake.

But with her body over mine, with her hands upon my chest and my hips nestled between her thighs, I knew, there was no way this wasn’t happening again.

No matter how wrong that was.

“You don’t have any patients until three.”

I let one eye open, and I found storm clouds hovering over her pretty little head. Her sadness covered her, even as she tried to wash it away.

“How do you know that?”

She shrugged. “I looked at your calendar. You gave me access to it last year, remember?”

Of course. I gave her access to my calendar so I could keep her away from me and my patients. So she could see when I needed her out of my hair, quiet in the upper floors of my house.

Even then, I’d been pushing her away.