Page 104 of Doctorshipped
“My eyebrows?”
“You have the best eyebrows.”
I chuckle again.
“I think that’s a first—a woman complimenting my eyebrows.”
Jayme gives me a little slap on the bicep.
I wag my eyebrows and do that smolder thing that one of the Disney characters got so famous for years ago.
Jayme smiles, and her eyes heat. She’s not kidding. She’s got a thing for my eyebrows.
She leans in to kiss me again. Her hand goes to the back of my head and she runs her fingernails along my scalp. I grumble and turn so we’re facing one another more completely. I run my hands down her sides, allowing my fingers to rest on her hips. I squeeze lightly, mostly to keep myself from taking things further. I want everything with her, but we haven’t even been on a date, let alone told Fiona, who is directly overhead right now.
I kiss Jayme’s full lips, and we explore one another. She tastes like cinnamon, and remnants of the tartness of the strawberry-rhubarb pie we had for dessert.
Our kiss turns from hungry to soft and tender. I’ve never shared a kiss like this. Maybe it’s because of what I already feel for her. Do I love her? I can’t say that yet, but I feel something overpowering. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
I pull away from her mouth and she whimpers, which makes me chuckle lightly. I’m not even close to ending this kiss. I turn her head and push her hair over her shoulder holding it back with my hand while my mouth moves up her neck to the sensitive spot just below her ear. I kiss and nip at the tender skin, and Jayme’s whimpers turn to soft sounds of appreciation.
“Grant,” she says my name softly, like a plea.
“Jayme.” I echo.
She turns and cups my face. Her eyes are soft and warm, “I can’t believe it’s you.”
I laugh because I know exactly what she means. We are two of the most unlikely people to fall into something romantic with one another, and yet, here we are.
33
JAYME
Grant’s got his arm around me as if we snuggle on his couch every day of our lives. We’re watching reruns ofVirgin River, because hello, he’s never seen it. That show should be part of the mandatory curriculum for any small town doctor orientation program.
And, when I say “watching” the show, I really mean the show is the soundtrack to our evening. We’re really watching one another, and then kissing, and then curling up and saying ridiculously happy things to one another. Even Grant. He’s saying the most outrageously soft-hearted things to me.
We’re also getting to know more about one another. Mostly Grant asks me questions and I tell stories about my childhood, college, and my writing. He listens and never seems to bore of our conversation.
I don’t want to leave this room, or him. His dad popped in a while ago with a cup in his hand, asking if we wanted tea and then telling us he was headed up to bed for the night. He added a little teasing warning not to do anything he wouldn’t do. I think I turned the whole Crayola row shades of pink in succession when he said that.
I’ve never had this experience—curling up with a guy on a couch being all gaga over one another. I have to say, I’m a fan. What was this commitment to singleness of mine anyway? Pshaw. That’s so burnt to the ground. So, so burnt. It went up in flames with our first kiss on Saturday. And now, I’m a goner.
“Can I get you anything?” Grant says in this soft tone I’ve never heard him use. His hand smooths along my back in gentle strokes, and I feel like I could purr.
Grant’s voice is all grumbly and syrupy and I know it’s for me only. I’ve heard how he talks to Fiona when she hits a soft spot with him. And this is not that.
I get my own voice!
I want to do a little jig. I’ve been feeling like a regular Scottish lass lately with my urge to jig over this man.
“I don’t need anything,” I tell Grant.
“Me neither,” he says. “I’ve got everything I need right here under this roof.”
Wow. See what I mean? He’s saying the sweetest things. I almost want to provoke him to make him say something snarky, just to make sure we didn’t fully slay the dragon. But, believe me, I’m not. Instead, I curl into him a little more and he pulls me closer when I do. It’s like we want to crawl inside each other and just stay that way.
Eventually, I have to go. We’re not having sleepovers, obviously. And I live at Lexi and Trevor’s. They don’t even know anything except for what I texted Lexi just before dinner when I told her I’m staying to eat with Grant and Fiona and then hanging out afterward.
