Page 7 of Dr. Do-Right
Month after month, visit after visit, as the three of us got closer and closer as a unit, the strings connecting me to Malachi also pulled taut. Until they snapped.
Sonia had been working the late shift one night while Mal was in town. One too many margaritas found us slouched on my sofa, ignoring the Parks and Rec episode playing in the background.
“What’s the theme for this visit going to be?” I wondered out loud, attention snared by the buttons he’d opened at the top of his shirt. As always, the tension simmered between us. By unspoken agreement, we kept a tight lid on it when Sonia was around. Now she wasn’t here, and it was spilling over.
“I’ve always wondered, do you use them?” He pulled on his lower lip while he studied me, eyes at half mast. The sight of himreclined across the cushions made my blood run hotter. I was in over my head.
“Yes,” I whispered the truth. We’d been circling around each other for just long enough, and my inhibitions were just low enough, that I wanted to set more of that scalding chemistry free. I was tired of ignoring it, even though I knew why we had to.
A low grunt punched out of him. The raw desire on his face made me look away. My eyes flickered down, only to settle on the bulge at the front of his pants.Ah, fuck, that wasn’t any better.
“You like them?” He murmured, gaze raking down my body. My nipples puckered against the lace of my bra.
“Yes.”
His tongue darted out to wet his lips. They gleamed in the low light of the TV. “Good.”
We kept staring at each other, chests rising and falling too fast for two people just sitting on the couch. I swallowed, reminding myself again and again:Don’t touch Malachi. Don’t touch Malachi. Just touch yourself later.
Like a coiled spring, the thought set off a chain reaction that shook me all the way to my core. A realization. I couldn’t touch him. But I could touch myself.
“Would you like to see?” I didn’t recognize my voice, so husky and low. He studied me for a second, downing the rest of his drink.
“Fuck, yes.”
I didn’t touch him at all when he watched me take myself to orgasm twice with my favorite toy. And I didn’t touch him when he jerked off as he watched.
The rest, as they say, is history.
Chapter 3
Present day
“I can’t believe you got me a puppy,” I repeated for the hundredth time, grinning down at the dog in my arms.
“Sigmund ismy dog. If you just so happen to want to walk him and sleep with him and play with him when you’re not at work, I’ll allow it.” He smiled softly, watching me rub the puppy’s lopsided ears.
Malachi had been doing a promotional video for an animal shelter and apparently hadn’t been able to leave the puppy behind. As someone who’d always wanted a dog and could never have one, I was in heaven when he curled up in my lap, placing his chin on my chest.
Mal might say Siggy was his, but we both knew the truth. This wiggly little fur ball was mine, especially since both of them were planning to stick around.
“I can’t believe you’re moving to Chicago,” I murmured, careful not to disturb the puppy.
“I can’t believe she went to bed over an hour ago and you still haven’t spread those thighs for me.”
I glared at Malachi, eyes flicking to Sonnie’s door. It was the wee dark hours of the night. Not a creature was stirring, besides me, Siggy and Dr. Do-Right. Still, better safe than sorry. “Shh. It’s almost like you want her to hear.”
“Oh no. That would be horrible,” he intoned, sarcasm dripping from his words. If Mal’d had his way, Sonia would have known about ouractivitiesmonths ago. I sighed.
The movement made the puppy wiggle. Mal’s eyes darted to the dog, jealousy darkening his face. I added insult to injury, smooching Sigmund’s scruffy little nose and rubbing under his chin while his tail whipped back and forth. “We’re going to be neighbors, aren’t we little one? Are we going to be best friends? Are you my best friend?”
Mal had planned several surprises tonight, beginning with him flying in after his work meeting, and ending with him breaking the news that he was moving to Chicago. He’d even managed to snag the penthouse unit in our apartment building, so he’d be close while he opened up his new counseling center in the city. I was still reeling at the news, both terrified and thrilled with its implications.
As usual, Mal could read me like a book. “We should talk about what this means for us.”
“I’m hoping it means you’ll figure out some better storage solutions. My bedside drawers are both already full.”
I’d thought a few times about clearing them out. Maybe purging some toys he’d bought me over the last two years that didn’t quite get me there. But I ran into a few problems every time I considered it. First, what does one even do with used sex toys? Was there some sort of recycling program out there?
