Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 48187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
I need this more.
Comfort.
His nurturing nature.
Gentle caresses and the way he inhales my hair when he doesn’t think I notice.
It’s been so long since I’ve been held and cared for.
When a grape probes at my lips, I laugh before accepting it. “You know we just ate, right?”
“You looked hungry,” he says with a chuckle.
“For cock,” I tease.
His palm splays over my stomach. “I’ll feed you that later.”
With his hand on my swollen stomach, I fidget. When I fidget, it makes the pain worsen. I breathe through my nose, fighting tears.
“Everything okay?”
“Perfect,” I breathe, forcing my emotion out of my date and back into the dark corner where it belongs.
“What does your tattoo mean?” I ask, gently pushing his hand away from my stomach.
He stiffens from behind me before gulping down his wine. His hand settles on my thigh this time. I give it a squeeze. Much better there.
“I didn’t realize how hard I was searching for happiness. Like I knew there was something I wanted out of life, I just didn’t know what exactly. It was like part of my soul was gone and I needed to find it.” He rubs my thigh in a gentle way. “When I got into medical school, I felt it. The pull toward medicine. It was like my body and mind woke up, but we were still missing something. When I helped my first real patient—brought them back from the brink of death—I knew. I was put on this earth to heal people. It completed a part of me. My tattoo represents the finding of my soul out there and pulling it back into my body that’s stitched back together, holding it in.”
“You’re a good doctor,” I whisper.
I wonder if he had known my mom, would it have made any difference.
“Lauren,” he says softly, his mouth against my ear. “Talk to me. Something’s wrong.”
“I’m scared,” I choke out. Not of him or our date or our bath. “Of the unknown.”
“Sometimes not knowing is worse,” he utters. “Knowledge gives you some semblance of power. The unknown can be something you can eradicate.”
“But what happens when the unknown becomes a horrific reality? Then what?”
He inhales my hair before kissing my head. “Then you lean on the ones who care about you. You face that reality with others, never alone, angel.”
I turn my head to find his mouth. Our kiss tastes like wine and understanding. His tongue is firm and powerful, but he holds on to me like he can protect me from anything. I want so badly for that to be true. I know if it were in his power, he’d protect me from whatever threw itself at me.
“I want you to make love to me, Daniel,” I murmur, brushing my lips on his. “And then…”
“And then what?”
“And then I need you to take care of me.”
Before the words have left my lips, he scoops me in his arms, lifting me from the tub. Water splashes everywhere as he steps out and sets me to my feet. He’s intense and thorough as he dries off every part of me. Once he’s sure I’m dry, he wraps me in a dry towel before quickly drying himself off. His towel falls to the floor and then this god of a naked man scoops me up again. He’s gentle and caring as he totes me into his bedroom.
“If anything hurts, tell me,” he says as he sets me on the bed. The covers have been drawn down and the sheets are soft.
“I will,” I vow.
He presses a kiss to my lips before turning off the lights. The glow from the candles in the bathroom gives the bedroom a dark, but romantic feel. I toss away the towel as he prowls into bed with me. At first, his body warms mine from beside me as he kisses me unrushed. Heat rushes just beneath the surface of my skin, the ache to be touched overwhelming me. He must sense my need because he touches my breasts, one at a time, tweaking each nipple.
“Your tits are so fucking addictive,” he rumbles, nipping at my bottom lip. “I love feeling them in my hands.”
My heart rate quickens and I squirm with need. “I like you touching them.”
His hand slides over my distended stomach, lingering for a long moment. “Are you sure you’re okay to do this?” he asks, his voice tight with worry.
“I need you to make love to me, Daniel. I need one night of normalcy.”
He nods before kissing down my neck to my nipple. I whimper when he bites on it and pulls. His mouth slides over a large part of my breast and he sucks on damn near the whole thing. Hard.
I cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain. At least he’s not holding back. I’d probably die if he treated me like I was fragile. I don’t want to be dealt with as though I’m a wilting flower. I want to be ripped apart, throttled, used, and abused. Sexually, of course. And then I want his perfect mouth to put me back together again. I want him to heal me in a way only he can—a way that has nothing to do with his training.