Page 19 of Healing Hearts
My heart leaps into my throat as I turn to see Trevor emerging from the back room, his blue eyes fixed on me with an intensity that makes me shiver. Fuck, he’s hot.
"You sure?" the bartender asks.
Trevor nods, his gaze never leaving mine. "Positive. I’ve got her."
“Trevor! What are you doin’ here?” I slur a bit.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he replies, sliding onto the stool beside me. “Last I checked, you didn’t strike me as the ‘bar-hoppin solo’ type.”
I’m not sure why, but that strikes me as funny and I giggle. “I’m not! I came with Kendall and Charlie and the others after kickball, but they left and I…well, I stayed for the vibes.”
“She’s had a good time, but I was just cutting her off and about to call her a cab.” Steph says from behind the bar. Tattletale.
“Thanks for looking out for her,” he says, nodding. “I’ve got her from here.”
Try as I might, I cannot get my serious face on, and another giggle slips out. “I don’t need babysitting, you know. I’m perfectly capable of…functioning!”
“Sure you are” He stands and offers me his hand. “But let’s make sure you ‘function’ all the way home in one piece.”
I stare at his hand for a second and then decide to take it. “Fine, but only because I trust you, Dr. Jacobs.”
“Glad to hear it.” He helps me off the stool. “Let’s get you home.”
As we step out into the cool night air, I struggle to form coherent thoughts as I’m focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and not tripping over my own two feet…again. "You’re lucky you’re charming, Trevor. Otherwise, I’d have to find another ride. You were here the whole time?" I manage to ask jumping around from topic to topic making my own head spin.
He chuckles softly. "Private party in the back. It’s lucky for both of us, I am charming. Now, let’s get you home before you decide to challenge me on that.”
My cheeks burn, and I'm not sure if it's from the alcohol or his words. The drive to my cottage passes in a blur of stolen glances and charged silence. Before I know it, we're at my door.
"Thanks for the ride," I murmur, stumbling for my house key.
Trevor gently takes them from me, unlocking the door. "My pleasure."
I turn to face him, suddenly overwhelmed by his proximity. "Do you... want to come in?"
He hesitates, and something inside me snaps. Before I can think better of it, I'm pulling him close, pressing my lips to his. For a moment, it's everything I've imagined, his warmth, his scent, the soft rumble in his chest.
But then he pulls away, his eyes clouded with desire and something else... regret?
"Brooke," he says softly, "I'm flattered, and believe me, I'm interested…so,sointerested, but not like this. Not when you're drunk."
I feel my face flush with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I?—"
He cuts me off with a gentle kiss on the cheek. "Don't be. We'll talk tomorrow, okay?"
I nod and watch him climb into his car and drive away as mortification envelops me.
Chapter 8
Trevor
The front door slams shut behind me, my body thrums with the intensity of pent-up hormones as I try to contain the raw hunger and desire coursing through my veins. The scent of Brooke still lingers on my shirt from our brief encounter earlier. Damn it, why do I have to be such a damn Boy Scout? My hand rubs my cock through my jeans, teasing myself with the possibility of release.
"Get it together, man," I mutter to myself under my breath, stripping off my clothes as I make my way towards the shower. The icy water pelts against my skin but does little to extinguish the inferno raging inside me. Images of Brooke flood my mind - her emerald, green eyes, those plump lips. The fantasy consumes me.
With a deep, guttural groan, I surrender all control and grasp my cock, pretending it is her touch igniting every inch of my being. "Fuck, Brooke," I mutter breathlessly, stroking faster as the fantasy consumes me. The thought of her silky red hair brushing against my skin as she presses her curves against mine is almost too much to bear. But despite the intense pleasure coursing through me, there is still an underlying sense ofdissatisfaction. It's not enough, though. I want her here with me in this moment. I crave the real thing - her touch, her scent, her presence. My hand continues its frantic movements as I yearn for her to be here with me now. Finally, I explode all over the shower wall but as satisfying as my climax may be, it ultimately leaves me unsatisfied. I want the real thing. I want her.
Exhausted and worn out from a grueling shift today, I finally trudge my way into my condo. Dropping my bag by the door, I kick off my shoes and collapse onto the couch. The events of the day swirl in my mind: the chaotic trauma cases, the too-close calls, and the constant, suffocating presence of Vivian hovering at every corner. I close my eyes, willing the memories away, but my phone buzzes, pulling me back.
