Page 11 of Will See You Now
“Miss Walton,” he said, sounding cold and professional even if his face looked conflicted.
“Dr. Sterling.”
We stared at each other as the elevator trundled upwards. It felt like a century passed in the thirty seconds our eyes remained locked, a million words unsaid, a thousand touches untouched. I took a deep breath, preparing to leave the elevator on whatever the next floor was. I was going to be late for my rotation, probably already was, but then —
“Fuck this,” Dr Sterling growled, dropping his cup and eating up the distance between us. In one movement, he had my back against the wall and his lips on mine.
He kissed me hard, pressing every emotion into the touch of our lips. Despite my reservations, I yielded in an instant, opening up and welcoming in his tongue. It was a feral thing, full of hunger and desperation, his hands on my face and my free one in his hair, clawing and pulling, forcing him closer, making him give me more. He growled deep in his throat and his cock thickened against my thigh.
My legs itched to wrap around his waist. My pussy begged to be filled again, to be stretched out so deliciously and used however he wanted. I was about to give him everything, concern be damned. But he slowed the kiss down, bringing it to gentle pecks across my cheeks, along my jaw, down my neck. I shivered, fighting against leaning into him again or pushing him away. I couldn’t be his sex toy, even if my body was yearning for it.
He nuzzled into my neck, inhaling. “I have surgery,” he groaned, his forehead dropping to my shoulder. “Please meet me after.”
I nodded. “Yeah. After.” It would allow me time to calm down and gather my thoughts, my dignity. To figure out how to broach the fact that, although I was gagging to bang his brains out again, I needed to claw back some self-respect. My feelings were deeper than his and it could be dangerous.
He stepped away, adjusting himself in his pants and picking up his coffee, which I was thankful hadn’t spilled.
“I won’t be free until tonight, though,” I added, an afterthought. I was rota-ed in at the hospital all day.
“Your phone?” he asked, holding out his hand. I pulled it from my pocket and passed it over. “I’m typing my address in. Come by as soon as you’re free. I think we should… talk.”
The elevator doors opened and he stepped out, leaving me in the aftermath of the best kiss of my life, and a pit of awkward dread in my stomach.
His apartment was fifteen minutes from the hospital via the Uber I took. It was swanky, too, those gynecologist bucks coming in strong. I didn’t warn him I was coming, or that I was close. I just walked into his building, past the doorman, and up the stairs. His apartment was a few floors up, and I wanted to feel the burn on my legs. A bit of punishment, perhaps. Or maybe it was just prolonging the anticipation. I had no idea what was going to happen next, what he might have in store for me. If I would be able to resist.
He answered the door almost as soon as I knocked, stepping aside so I could walk in. The space was open plan and airy, clean to a fault like he was never there or scrubbed the place like a mad man.
“Hi,” he said, toying with the glass of amber liquid in his hand. We stood a few feet from each other by the entrance.
I smiled at him, full of awkwardness as we struggled to be in each other’s company without the comforts of his practice. There was a strong urge to let him ravage me again, to wrap my legs around him and just go nuts… but that, tangled with how little I knew him, how we were outside of the examination room where we’d met and done depraved things to each other, made things seem strange, stilted, unnatural. Coupled with what I’d overheard, and I was a little frazzled.
“Drink?” he asked, gesturing to the kitchen. I nodded, and we walked in silence across the room, where he poured me two fingers of whiskey and thrust it at me. The liquid burned my throat, making the parch worse.
He gulped his down and slammed the glass on the counter, making me jump a little. “I don’t want to take my time,” he said.
“What?”
“I don’t want to take my time with you, don’t want to waste it. I want you now. Fully. Seeing you in that elevator proved it to me. I want to know you, the love and the pain of it, the good and the bad. Don’t make me take my time, let’s just do this. Now.” His words poured out of him like a sermon, full of reverence and passion, so at odds with the image I’d spent the rest of the day creating. I placed my glass of whiskey down behind me and stepped towards him, my hands landing on his chest. The t-shirt he wore was threadbare and stretched across his shoulders. Pulling as I toyed with the soft material.
“I overheard you,” I blurted, looking up at him. “Talking about the sex club with your…?”
“Brother,” he interjected, looking pissed off, a little resigned.
“… with your brother,” I continued. “So your big words, your sweeping statement about not wanting to wait? Is it for me? Or is it for more of what we did? Could you do it with someone else and find the same…” I froze, the next word not coming to me. I hadn’t moved from my position against him, and his arms had only tightened around me.
“Harper,” he spoke, dipping his chin so we were eye to eye. “I’m sorry you heard me humoring my brother. But it is all you. I thought… maybe, but seeing you in that elevator?” He shook his head, a slight smile on his lips, his eyes bright. “It’s only you I want to explore with.”
“I’m leaving in a week, for an eight-month placement building a medical infrastructure in a post-war-zone. I... I can’t give you right now.” It broke my heart to say it, but I couldn’t ask him to wait for me when we’d barely had a conversation, let alone a date or even a few hours together. This had all been sex. Dangerous, explosive sex that had changed my entire outlook on life and love, but still… only sex. Despite the relief of knowing how he felt, it wasn’t as easy as just falling into bed with him and living in bliss.
He brought his mouth down to mine and pressed a soft kiss to my lips, his hands threading through my hair to pull me closer. This wasn’t like before. There was a tenderness, a soft slide of tongues and lips as he poured his emotion through to me. I moaned without meaning to, my hands roaming down his chest and around to his back, needing to touch him. This kiss didn’t even feel sexual. It wasn’t dirty or leading, it was a simple expression, a declaration.
He kissed down my neck, ran his tongue up behind my ear, and nibbled at my lobe.
“I don’t want to wait,” he whispered, almost to himself. “Let me in. I want to learn you.”
I pulled away a fraction, cupping his face in my palms and studying the look across his handsome features. There was something I needed to know. It had been niggling at me. He’d just been so into our sessions in his place of work, so comfortable using all the instruments, and understood just what he wanted. No hesitation. It had all been new for me, something I’d craved but never dared think possible, but for him, he knew what he was doing.
“Have you done this before? With another patient, I mean. I know you said it was new, but… I just… have you?” I asked, already hating the question as it left my lips.
