Page 110 of Dr. Attending

That’s what this is.

“I think we’ve heard enough about Dr. Daley’s interests,” Weston interrupts, shooting his friend a glare. “The purpose of this interview is to understand how badly Ms. Winters wants to work with me. And right now I’m not convinced of anything other than the fact that she is nice to look at.”

Holy fuck.

A pulse of arousal shoots through me, and I have to cross my legs to attempt to focus.

Okay. Okay. I can do this.

“Well, perhaps you should ask me some questions then, Dr. Southerland. Or if you can’t think of anything, I’d be happy to let Dr. Daley interview me on his own. It sounds like he has some veryinterestingresearch that I’d love to be a part of.”

My gaze stays locked on Weston, but I can hear Worth sputter beside me like he’s holding back his laughter.

“That won’t be necessary,” Weston grits, his hazel eyes flaring with jealousy. “Dr. Daley was just leaving.”

“Hey, now,” Worth argues. “I’d like to stay and hear what the young lady has to say. She seems like she could potentially be an asset to us both.”

He shoots a wink at me that makes my core pull tight.

Weston’s jaw ticks with jealousy. “No, thank you. I’m afraid that this interview needs to be a little more in-depth than I originally intended.”

He abruptly stands from his desk, crossing the room to open his office door. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

Worth chuckles and gives me a warm smile on his way out. “Maybe next time, darling.”

The door slams behind me, stirring the tense air between us. I keep my attention locked on the empty desk in front of me, waiting for Weston to say something. To break his character.

But he doesn’t.

I hear the lock click into place, and his footsteps pad behind me, muffled against the carpeted floors of his office. It almost sounds like he’s pacing, but then he stops somewhere out of my field of vision.

My pulse starts to pound harder, liquid heat burning through my veins as the seconds pass.

After what feels like forever, Weston’s fingers finally graze my shoulder, pulling my hair to one side of my neck.

His lips ghost my ear, his hot breath making the ache between my legs grow stronger. “Ms. Winters. Are you ready for your interview to begin?”

I swallow and fight the urge to squirm. “I am.”

“I already know you’re intelligent, driven, and that you have the smartest mouth I’ve ever encountered,” he muses as his hands trail down my shoulders. “But I want to make sure that you’re able to handle the more . . . physical aspects of this job.”

His hands dip to my waistband, undoing the drawstring of my scrubs.“Take off your clothes. Bra and panties stay on for me. I want you sitting just like this when I turn around.”

I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, pretending like I’m not sure of his request. “Is that really necessary, Dr. Southerland?”

“That’s up to you,” Weston murmurs seductively as his fingers slide beneath my pants and press on my clit.

He pulls away a second later, leaving me needy and aching for his touch.

“You have one minute, Ms. Winters,” he warns as he grabs the backpack from beside me and whisks it away.

I fly to my feet, unable to think about anything other than getting more of what he just gave me. I kick off my tennis shoes, drop my scrub pants to the floor, and shrug out of my top, flinging it to the side like I’m not going to have to wear it out of here.

Weston keeps his back to me, flipping through pages of some book that’s on the credenza behind me as I return to my original position, my chest heaving with anticipation.

I look around the room, trying to focus on something other than the thrum of desire flowing through my body.

The wall behind his desk is lined with wooden bookshelves full of medical textbooks and various accolades. For someone who doesn’t make it a point to talk about his professional accomplishments, he seems to have a lot of them. His diplomas and certificate from residency are hung above his computer on the adjacent wall, along with several photos of his son.

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