Page 69 of The Potter

Yet, here I am, my chest lighter, and my stomach ravenous for more than just food. Since Halle came into my office, it hasn’t been so dark—so alone. I might be breaking the rules, but nothing feels wrong about spending time with Ms. Belle.

Halle grins, her long lashes batting with several blinks. “Are you saying you’re embarrassed to be seen with me?”

I yank her by the knot of her robe, it easily falling open and baring her naked body underneath. The scars at her hips and thighs are pink under this ambient lighting. She’s never looked more beautiful than she does in this moment.

“Embarrassed?” I trail a finger down her chest, her quick inhale spurring me lower. “No. Greedy? Yes.”

I pinch her pert, pink nipple and enjoy the moan that goes through her. “No more inappropriate behavior on company time, Ms. Belle. I’d hate to have the bellhop fired on account of seeing your glorious body.”

She swallows, her smile fading into a look I’m now all too familiar with. “Clothes. Now.” I turn her around and smack her on the ass, pushing her toward the bathroom. “I’ll order something.”

Turning back, she asks, “What if I don’t like what you order?”

For fuck’s sake. Why can’t this woman ever do as she’s told?

“You’ll like what I order.” Because I’ll order the entire menu if I must. She’s eating something, even if I need to hand-feed her. “Now, please take mercy on me and cover up.”

Her being clothed isn’t only for the bellhop’s sake. Unfortunately, my restraint is lacking with Ms. Belle on a good day. On a naked day, it’s at negative zero.

Thankfully, Halle turns around and walks toward the bathroom but not before one last parting jab. “You know, I’m sort of liking this new, open, less growly Dr. Potter.” She shrugs. “He’s pretty cute.”

Cute?

“Nothing about me is—”

She slams the door in my face, cutting off the rest of my argument and the all-access view of her incredible body.

“Oh, wow.”

Halle leans back against the headboard and moans. “This is better than sex.”

I cut her a look of disappointment. “I doubt that.”

“You don’t know that, Dr. Potter. I’ve had bad dick. It’s not yummy. Not like this.”

The mere mention of any dick other than mine in her life sends a weird tingling through my stomach. “It’s just a chicken sandwich. I’m not seeing how that can be better than sex.”

She takes another bite and holds out the sandwich. “Take a bite.”

“No.” I pull back so she can’t shove the sandwich in my mouth.

“Don’t tell me you’re a germaphobe?” Her gaze narrows to my lips.

“I’m a doctor. I’m not scared of anything, especially not germs.”

The arguments she has with me are about the most mundane topics I’ve ever endured, but it’s better than being downstairs with my peers, who have probably heard about my run-in with Calista.

“I think you’re lying.” She moves closer, sitting up on her knees. “I think you’d rather my tongue be in your mouth or your fingers in my pussy, but you’d never stoop so low as to eat after—”

I bite the fucking sandwich and chew, swallowing it down quickly. “I still disagree. It isn’t better than sex.” I watch as her face morphs from shock to curiosity. “I don’t like chicken. Especially not more than sex.”

I don’t have time for any more of her ridiculous conversations.

“Who doesn’t like chicken?” She pulls the sandwich back and takes a bite, waiting for an answer to the most irrelevant question in the universe.

“I don’t.”

“Why?”

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