Page 106 of Accidental Doctor Daddy

He found me.I didn’t know what it meant, and I didn’t want to speculate. I had to know why.

We emerged into the stairwell, the metal door cutting off the kitchen’s noise. The hush blanketed my ears as I stared at him, adrenaline coursing. “I live upstairs,” I blurted, breathless. “We can’t talk here…”

“Lead the way,” he said, voice rough, as if talking cost him great effort.

I started up the stairs, my chef’s clogs echoing on the concrete steps, Dom just behind me. It felt surreal. My heart pounded, each step an effort not to glance over my shoulder at his face, because if I did, I might cry.

At my door, I fumbled with the keys, my fingers shaking. The lock gave, and I pushed the door open to reveal my modest, yet larger-than-Manhattan apartment. Shutting it behind us, I realized how quiet it was—no nanny, no babies.They must be at Martha’s place next door. Small favors.

He stood in the entryway, coat still in hand, scanning the living room. “It’s…nice.”

“Rent is included in the job,” I said automatically, crossing my arms to still the trembling in my hands. “The nanny is watching the girls right now…they’re next door.”

His gaze snapped to me at the mention of the twins. For an agonizing moment, we just stared. I wanted to explain everything, or maybe I wanted to scream at him for appearing unannounced or just collapse in his arms. My thoughts whirled so wildly I couldn’t pin down a single one.

His gaze snapped to me at the mention of the twins. For an agonizing moment, we just stared. I wanted to explaineverything, or maybe I wanted to scream at him for appearing unannounced or just collapse in his arms. My thoughts whirled so wildly I couldn’t pin down a single one.

And God, he looked so good. Taller than memory. Bigger, somehow. His slate-gray dress shirt was crisp beneath a dark, tailored jacket that hugged his broad shoulders and tapered perfectly at his waist. The open collar revealed a flash of skin, and the faint shadow along his jaw made him look rougher, hungrier.

There was more silver in his hair now—at his temples, near his sideburns—but it only made him more in control. More manly.

But it was his eyes—those dark, stormy eyes—that did me in.He looked like a man who had lost everything… and wasn’t going to lose one more thing.

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Words seemed too complicated, too messy. And apparently, Dom felt the same.

“I don’t…”

“I’m not…”

Silence fell again. He wasn’t screaming at me, angry for taking his daughters away. He wasn’t being snide or saying something bitter about me leaving him. He stood before me, sadness and longing on his face. A man steeped in the same pain as me.

One minute, we were two people in a silent apartment. The next, we were colliding—lips on lips, arms around each other as though we’d spent months swimming in an endless ocean and finally reached shore. I gasped into the kiss, tears stinging my eyes, because it was Dom,myDom, here, and I’d missed him with an ache that never dulled.

He clutched my waist, pulling me close, and I gripped the front of his shirt like a lifeline. My mind screamed that this wasa bad idea—we needed to talk first. But the heat of his mouth on mine obliterated logic.

I whimpered, pressing up against him, letting the raw need overshadow everything else. We stumbled backward, crashing into the couch. I barely remembered letting go of his jacket before we were tugging at each other’s clothes, breath ragged.

I tugged off my chef’s coat, feeling his hands slip under my shirt, palms exploring my skin like a man starved. A moan tore from my throat, and I could feel him trembling, too. Longing ignited into a frantic hunger. Words weren’t enough. This was primal, unstoppable. He tried to speak, maybe say my name, but I cut him off with another desperate kiss, pouring all the sorrow and guilt into it.

Buttons popped. I half-laughed, half-cried as I realized we were tearing at each other’s clothes like teenagers in a rush. His stubble grazed my chest, and I breathed in the faint smell of the aftershave I remembered so well, feeling tears burn behind my eyelids.

Somehow we found our way onto the rug in front of the couch. I had no sense of direction, only the press of Dom’s skin against mine, his breath hitching as we finished stripping each other bare.

His hands framed my waist, reverent and hungry. “God, I missed these curves,” he murmured against my neck. “I used to wake up aching for them. For you.”

His cock pressed hot and thick against my entrance, and I gasped at the feel of him—familiar and overwhelming. He didn’t ask the question or wait for an answer.

Neither did I. The moment he was in position, I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him close, guiding him as he thrust into me.

My body stretched around him, a perfect, aching fullness that knocked the air from my lungs. I clung to him, hips rolling tomeet every desperate drive of his. This wasn’t slow. It wasn’t sweet. It was raw and furious and so full of feeling it stole my words.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. “You feel like heaven, Ella.”

We moved like we were making up for lost time, every snap of his hips sayingnever again.His mouth found mine in frantic kisses, then my neck, then the curve of my breast. I arched into him, cried out when his thrusts hit deep, deeper, like he was trying to fill the hollow space he'd left behind.

He slowed only to look down at me—really look.

And there, I saw it on his face.

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