Page 67 of Dr. Attending

Her body shudders at my feet, her lips wrapped around me for so long that I actually start to wonder if I impaled her with my cock.

After a minute, I hear her swallow and slowly drag herself off my length. She lets out a satisfied hum, releasing me with a pop as her eyes flutter open and a wide grin sweeps across her face.

“Told you it wouldn’t be a problem.”

Chapter 24

Caroline

Well, that escalated quickly.

I don’t know what I intended to happen tonight, but it definitely wasn’t this. Or maybe it was, and I just wasn’t willing to admit it to myself.

Either way, I can’t say that I’m upset because I feel more relaxed than I have been in months.

After Weston came in my mouth, he didn’t pull away or make some crass comment. Instead, he gently lifted me to my feet and kissed me like he was trying to steal the breath from my lungs. It wasn’t teasing or playful—it was sensual and tender, like he never wanted it to end.

And neither did I.

At some point, we broke apart. Our foreheads rested against each other as he carried me to his bed. He wrapped me in his arms like I belonged there and softly asked if I was okay with everything that happened. I told him yes without hesitation, but my instincts whispered something else entirely—to get up,gather my things, and leave the second he stepped out to grab us water.

But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Because I wanted to be there.I wanted to be with him.

Weston drags a few strands of hair over my shoulder, planting a kiss on my bare back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Normally, a question like that would make me tense up and change the subject, but I find myself relaxing into his arms.

“Talk about what?”

My voice sounds sleepy, but really, I’m just satiated in a way that I haven’t ever experienced before.

Weston’s fingers gently stroke my forearm, so different from the rough way he handled me earlier tonight. “Anything. We can talk about anything, Caroline.”

The list of things that I probably should talk about with him is growing longer by the minute, but I decide to start with the one that’s the easiest to explain.

“I’m going to fail.”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I feel like I can breathe easier. Like admitting it will make it easier to process when the day eventually comes.

Weston’s chest starts to rise and fall rapidly behind me, and I swear I hear the sound of stifled laughter. I have no idea what could possibly be funny about failure, and his lack of sincerity makes a prickle of irritation run down my spine.

I’ve never said those words out loud, let alone allowed my confidence to falter in front of anyone. And when I finally do—when I finally trust someone—their immediate response is to laugh?

I twist out of his arms and sit up, brushing my hair out of my face to make sure I’m not jumping to conclusions.

Sure enough, Weston is covering his mouth with his fist, looking thoroughly amused.

“What?” I snap as I debate smothering him with the pillow wedged beneath his head.

Weston adjusts himself so that he’s leaning on his hand, giving me an annoyingly infectious grin. “You’re not going to fail.”

He says it so matter-of-factly, like he has no doubt in his mind.

When I don’t immediately respond, he reaches out to rest his hand on my knee reassuringly. “Why would you think that, Caroline?”

“I don’t know,” I groan, tilting my head up to the dark-paneled ceiling. “Maybe because I barely passed the practice test I took today. And I guessed on, like, half of them, so imagine how much worse it could have been.”

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