Page 91 of The Potter

I can’t even remember what it felt like to come home to an empty house and a bottle of bourbon.

Halle’s legs wrap around me and pull me closer. “How many lives did you change today?”

She’s asking how many surgeries I performed. It’s the same question she asks every day, and every day that I answer, it puts a smile on her face that I never want to see fade. “Four.”

I kiss up her neck, lingering at her earlobe.

“And how did it make you feel helping those four patients?”

My kisses trail lower and down her chest, heading for her nipple. “Uncomfortable.”

Every day, she hopes for a different answer, and every day, she gets the same one. Trust me, I want to feel different. I want to walk out of that operating room feeling changed and whole, but the fact is, with Calista’s lawsuit still ongoing, her accusations still staring at me when I open an email from my attorney, I can’t help the nagging fear that creeps back in. At any moment, I could fuck up and unintentionally harm a patient.

I could change their lives in a way they never imagined.

Just like I did Logan and Calista’s.

Doing more surgeries hasn’t changed that fact.

What has changed, though, is coming home to someone so full of life that it completely distracts me from the present chaos.

“I’m ready to stretch early tonight,” I say, swiping my tongue across her nipple before pulling it into my mouth, taking a leisurely suck.

Her back arches as her hands go to my hair. “What about dinner?”

I lift her off the counter and turn off the stove. “We’ll reheat it. I need to take care of you first.”

Halle chuckles. “How very considerate of you—taking care of me after a long day at work.”

Kneeling on the Italian rug in the living room, I place her on her back, admiring the sparkle in her eyes. “It’s part of your recovery process. We can’t skip a night.”

I grin, parting her legs and lowering to her center like I wanted to do the first night we found ourselves in this same position—the night I craved to stretch her pussy first.

“I’ve waited all day for this,” I admit, a groan slipping out the moment my lips meet her flesh, wet and dripping just for me. The taste of her desire chases away the demons better than any bourbon could.

“Oh, shit.” Halle tries wiggling away from my pulls on her clit, but I’m ready, lowering my shoulders and pinning her hands to the floor.

“If you can’t stay still, then I can’t stretch you properly,” I chide.

I can certainly make her come with my tongue, but she likes riding my fingers just as much as my face.

Her voice is whiny when she stops tugging against me, inhaling a breath. “Fine, but remember, Dr. Potter, you’re not the boss all the time.”

Meaning: When she’s on her knees, she can bring me to mine. She’s the only woman who’s been able to take control away from me.

And I don’t mind—not at all.

At her admission, I let go of her wrists and push two fingers inside her, reminding her that right now, she’s the one laid out before me, on her back, and at my mercy. Pressing a kiss to the top of her hip, where I refined one of the scars, I look up to find her eyes. “Are you happy, Peach?”

I don’t know if I’m asking if she’s happy with me or with her new, refined scars. Both answers hold my attention equally.

She takes my free hand and slips my index finger in her mouth. “More than I’ve ever been.”

And right now, that’s all that matters.

She’s happy.

I’m happy.

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