Page 95 of Dr. Aster

“My dick loves you,” he said playfully as we grasped for air, trying to steady ourselves in the waves of the pool that we created.

“I’m starving,” I said with an exhausted laugh.

“We haven’t even really worked up an appetite yet, baby,” he chuckled.

“There’s plenty of hours left in the night,” I teased.

“Let’s grab something to eat, then I’m fucking you against my shower wall.”

“Oh?” I glanced back at him as we swam through the water.

I was thankful for the water. My legs were so tense, building into that orgasm, that I knew I had nothing left in them right now.

“You want to eat in the living room and put on Casa Blanca?” he questioned.

“Black and white movies? Really?”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I dug that shit. I have my theater room all set up with the gas fireplace lit, blankets and pillows on the floor, and I even got a brand-new popcorn maker to add the final touch.”

After I got out of the pool, I turned back to him, and he wrapped an extra-large white fluffy towel around me, “You’re the best, you know that?”

“That’s just the aftereffects of the sex talking,” he kissed my lips.

“No, this, all of this. Your place, your cute way of being concerned that I wouldn’t like you because of it. And now something as romantic as just me and you watching old black and white films with a popcorn maker…it’s a romantic wish come true.”

“Well, it’s my romantic wish come true to hear those words come out of your beautiful mouth, baby,” he said. “Let’s go get the grub and get the night started. You’re staying over, right?”

“We can commute to work together in my car in the morning,” I laughed.

“Only if I can drive it.”

“Oh, I’m sure that Honda will make you glad you left the Ferrari at home.”

The night was better than I anticipated. It wasn’t only about sex—that part came at intermission during the switch out of movies. Instead, it was a night of lying in John’s arms, the fresh smell of popcorn filling the air, laughter, and just being comfortable with each other.

I’d never had a relationship like this before. It was a mixture of everything I held most important: love, laughter, goofiness, friendly conversation, and most of all, feeling the desire of someone who was as entirely into me as I was him. It was surreal.

It was so much fun to let my guard down and enjoy everything without worrying about what could go wrong.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Mickie

I was starting to second guess this Aspen trip after John picked me up from work in a Bentley, and we shuttled off to the airport only to realize we weren’t boarding a commercial jet. No, we were flying on one of five private jets that Jim Mitchell owned.

I was entirely out of my element, and I had no idea what possessed me to think that a ski trip with a group of billionaires would exude anything less than extreme wealth and power.

I had met Jim Mitchell before, CEO of Mitchell and Associates and Forbes 500 top wealthiest men on the planet, and although he seemed stiff, he ultimately came off as a regular man who ran a big company. Knowing his younger brother, Jake, a little better—better, as in, he’d said hi to me on a few occasions in the hospital dining area and when I assisted John during his wife’s surgery—I could tell Jake was the more approachable and outgoing of the brothers.

Still, I hadn’t added everything up in my head, which was that these people were the one-percenters and had more money than most people could spend in multiple lifetimes. Somehow, that vibe never really oozed off them. At least, I didn’t pick up on it.

The other rich kids’ club member joining this excursion was a neurosurgeon at Saint John’s, Dr. Collin Brooks. From what John had told me, he came into money through his father, a world-renowned architect and close friend of the Mitchell family.

Basically, I was the only one from Podunk, Tennessee, and try as I might to act cool, I felt pretty goddamn intimidated as soon as I saw the jet. I tried not to think about what I’d roped myself into, but I felt a tad more at ease that John’s family had offered to let us all stay at their place just above Aspen, overlooking the ski resort.

If I was lucky, John’s family was a bit more down-to-earth than his friends—I mean, this jet was unreal—and I might not feel like such a simpleton for the rest of the trip.

“Dr. Smith, Dr. Aster,” the flight crew greeted us as we approached. “It’s a pleasure to be flying you today,” one of the pilots said with a friendly smile as he led me up the stairs and into the plane.

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