Page 407 of The Doctors Will See You Now

Good Lord, I could get used to seeing that smile every damn day of the week. If that smile were a gym, I’d be signing up for the lifetime membership and willingly going to spin class seven times a week.

Taking into account my pathetic track record with gym memberships, that said a fucking lot.

Don’t tell me I’m the only one who signs up for a gym membership, ready and motivated to kick some fitness ass, only to last two weeks max.

My intentions are always good, but then life and laziness get in the way.

“But…but…I’ll start Monday. I’ll finally get my shit together Monday.”

I always have the same excuse and follow the same cycle of crazy.

“I hope you’re hungry,” I said by way of greeting as I closed the door behind me and dropped the bag of food onto his desk. “Because I ordered way too much food.”

“Starved,” he said and stood to his feet.

With three long strides, he closed the distance between us, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and pulling me in close to his chest. I inhaled his delicious scent—clean laundry, his sexy cologne, and Nick. A true aphrodisiac to all of my senses.

He pressed his mouth to mine, and between one breath and the next, his tongue slipped past my lips.

I moaned. Goodness gracious, why did he always have to taste so good?

He turned me toward his desk and moved us backward until my ass bumped against the edge. Effortlessly, he lifted me up onto the mahogany wood and spread my legs, stepping between them and pressing himself between my thighs.

We stayed like that for a long moment, kissing and touching and grinding against one another, greedily increasing the sexual tension between us until it threatened to set the room on fire.

When he slid his hands up my thighs and pushed my jean skirt above my hips, my head fell back of its own accord.

Oh God, yes. Take me right here on your desk.

“I want you,” he whispered, and his lips painted kisses down my jaw, my neck, my chest. He yanked my t-shirt up and over my head with a quickness that urged a needy whimper from my lips, and the instant my breasts were bared for his heady gaze, I moaned—loud and guttural and without restraint.

“Yes, please,” I whispered and gripped his biceps with my hands, biting my fingernails into his skin. “I need you inside of me. So, so fucking bad.”

Hot and heavy, and with our lunch completely forgotten, we tore at each other’s clothes with reckless abandon. My panties were around my ankles, and his pants were unzipped with his hard, aroused cock in my hands in the span of a single breath.

Want. Need. Heady desire. Those were the only priorities.

“God, Char,” he groaned as he rubbed the tip of his cock between my arousal. “You’re so fucking wet.”

I moaned at his words. At his sounds. At the way his breath hitched when he pushed the first few inches of himself inside of me.

Yes. Yes. Yes. I wanted more.

But before he could fill me completely, three small knocks rapped against his closed office door.

We stopped, frozen in our positions, our bodies still intertwined like ivy, and our widened, surprised gazes locked with one another. Nothing but our heavy, panting breaths and pounding heartbeats filled the space between us.

I quirked a brow and whispered quietly, “Are you expecting someone?”

He shook his head, completely at a loss.

“Yo, Nick,” a male voice called from the other side of the door. “It’s Jorge,” he added. “The producer told me you’d be here for the afternoon so I could get a few live shots of you in your office for the promos and trailer.”

Both of our eyes went even wider.

Fuck. It was Jorge. The fucking cameraguy for the show.

“Oh, okay,” Nick responded. “Just a sec.”