Provocative Professions Collection (18 page)

"Eightish," he confirms, then walks over and startles me. I think he's going to take my face in his hands, but instead he places them on the wig, adjusting it slightly. He leans down and presses a kiss to my cheek. "See you then, Ms. Beaverhousen."

At eight o'clock sharp, there's a rasp on my door and I hastily straighten my hair and outfit, suppressing a giggle as I go to answer it.

"Well, hello," I coo. "How lucky am I to have a doctor that makes house calls!"

A frown begins to darken his expression but I quickly remedy it.

"Kidding, kidding. Come in."

Relaxing, he runs his gaze over me then back up to my face with a smile. "These are for you." He hands me a stunning bouquet of lilies and daisies.

"Thank you." I inhale their vibrant scent then close the door after he steps in. "Make yourself comfortable. Dinner is about ready, twenty minutes tops. Something to drink?"

"Whatever you've having is fine. What can I help with?" He follows me to the kitchen, resting back against the counter.

"I got it covered, thanks."

Filling a vase with water, I turn back, finally stopping to take him in. His sultry brown hair is styled as though he ran his hands through every piece. The light grey dress shirt does little to hide the stunning male physique of broad, but not too bulky, shoulders and a wide chest. With his hands braced on the counter, his muscular biceps beg to rip through the fabric.

Taking my time, my searing appreciation travels downward to lean hips encased in dark washed jeans, which I already observed grip his firm ass flawlessly.

Yeah—he definitely turns up the heat in the kitchen.

"Do I pass inspection?" he asks in a seductive husk.

My cheeks blush as I drop the bouquet in the vase and turn away, the food suddenly needing my attention. "Yes," I answer softly.

"As do you, every damn time," he speaks in my ear now, pressed against my back, moving the hair off my neck where he nuzzles in. "Smells delicious," he murmurs, running his nose up my neck.

"It's three cheese lasagna," I reply in a lust-fueled whisper.

"I was talking about your skin."

"Oh." The spatula falls from my shaky hands, making a rather loud clang on the counter.

"Turn around." His sinister command has me complying immediately. "So damn beautiful." He traces my jaw with his fingertip, leaning in to place one soft kiss on my lips. "Perfect."

Anticipation looms until one broad, hot hand slinks down my waist.

"I'm sorry, for everything," I say, needing him to know.

His kiss silences me. It's tender and sweet, his tongue running over my lip seeking entrance, which I instantly grant. He backs me up until I'm flush between him and the wall.

"I need you," I say into his mouth.

His response is a hungry moan, his wandering hands slipping down my thighs past the length of my short dress. My skin tingles under his fingertips as he trails them back up and cups my ass, pulling me even closer, crushing our chests together.

Strong hands grip and lift me up, my legs wrapping around his waist, ankles locking together. My lips glide over his jaw, then gradually up to his ear. "Bedroom," I murmur, needing him, desperate to seal the connection between us.

My hands weave into his hair as he begins to move, turning to turn off the oven—
good thinking
—then carrying me across the room. I dip my head, tilting it to the side, merging our mouths, tongues flicking together with natural passion.

I don't even realize we're near the bed when he bends down, releasing me from his hold as my back meets the mattress. My legs still sealed around his hips, reluctant to let go. He doesn't seem to mind, moving his body with mine until he's standing at the edge of the bed leaning over me.

My hands slide down his back and up underneath his shirt, meeting warm skin, solid muscles flexing under my touch. Slowly he removes my legs, kissing away my pout, and pulls me up to a sitting position.

With a sensual caress over my breasts, tickling slightly along my ribs, he peels the dress over my head. A shiver of pleasure shakes me as I reach for him, deliberately popping each button on his shirt one by one.

Beautiful eyes filled with gentle desire watch me, his head moving forward, dipping down to my bare shoulder, where he presses his mouth. He inhales deeply, his tongue swirling over my skin while I conquer the final button. Opening his shirt, I skim my fingers down rippled abs, smoothing my palms over a strong, chiseled chest, then sliding them back up, appreciating.

Tugging my lips between my teeth, I peer up to eyes glistening with tenderness. He feels it too, wants me as much as I want him. There are no issues, no conflicts, no mess between us. We're in the same arena, but no longer playing any games.

I shuffle back on the bed, leaving him watching me from the end. The air between us is different than any office visits. The intimacy is palpable, and mutual realization of more is understood.

My eyes drink him in as his shirt drops off his broad shoulders and hits the floor. Tugging his belt open, he makes easy work of his pants and steps out, tossing them aside as well until he's only in black boxer briefs, his growing erecting evident, ready for me.

Taking his cue, I reach back and unhook my bra, sliding it down my arms, then raise my hips, hands on my panties, ready to remove them as well when he moves up the bed and catches my wrist, stopping me.

"Let me," he croons.

My smile is relaxed, my heart swelling. He's not just my doctor anymore. He's so much more.

His touch is gentle, feather light, when he parts my legs and settles between my thighs. Leaning down to press kisses over my hips, then lower, to each side of my panties, he worships me with a hot, seeking mouth before hooking his fingers in the tiny fabric and sliding them down.

"Mhmm." My head falls back, spine arching.

The teasing continues, open mouthed kisses raining down my inner thigh then stopping at my knee, moving to the other leg and skimming back up until his lips graze where the throbbing is nearly audible—my sweltering center aches for him, all of him.

The kiss there is brief, a whisper of a touch, and then he's sliding his body back up over mine. He takes my face in his hands and stares down at me as though I'm a treasure, precious and rare. My leg tangles with his, foot stroking up and down his taut calf, hands raking through his hair and trailing down over his back.

I lift my head and skim my tongue over his bottom lip, where he nips it between his lips, inciting my playful giggle. His erection molds into my thigh and I shift under him, maneuvering so it's right where I need it, upon my center, only a single piece of fabric separating us.

His mouth snares mine, dancing in beautiful rhythm while my wicked hands move down his side, past his hips, working at his briefs, my feet meeting them half way down and rolling them the rest the way off.

Together, so close, his swollen cock slides against my core.

He rests his forehead against mine, eyes on me, and I know what he needs to hear. What we both want, both feel. It's undeniable and has been for far too long. They're the easiest words I've ever spoken, honest and raw.

"I love you, Brady," I confess in a murmur, tears prickling. My hand seeks his, fingers entwining.

He drags our joined hands up between us and kisses my knuckles with a sigh. "It's always been you, Moe. I've loved you longer than anything else in my life."

With that, he slips inside me, stretching me, filling me, claiming me as his, which I am.

And always have been.

Epilogue

Six Months Later

"Son of a—"

"Baby," he drops the box he's lugging and rushes to my side, "what happened?"

"I stubbed my damn toe on the table because I couldn't see where I was going. Maybe if I didn't have to take off my damn shoes in your house," I grumble, bending down to rub my foot.

Brady kneels down, taking my foot, massaging the stub, then places a kiss to the top of my toe.

"It's your house too now, love." He stands and moves behind me, rubbing the sore muscles in my neck. "You can wear mud boots if you want." He bites my ear lobe and whispers low, "And nothing else."

"Mhmm," I purr, letting my head fall back against his chest, toe healed. Something tells me living with Brady will be easy, like
giving
candy to a baby.

"Hello? Where do you want this?"

I quickly unpeel myself from my man as my mother calls out, walking towards us with a large box about to fall from her grip.

"I got it," Brady chuckles, hurrying to relieve her. "Mrs. Porter, please stop. We can get it."

"Brady Reynolds!" She lasers motherly eyes at him. "Just because you're shacking up with my daughter, does not mean you will stop calling me Ellen and I mean it! Mrs. Porter is John's seventy-year-old mother!"

"Yes, ma'am." He lowers his head hiding his amusement.

"Good, now kiss me goodbye, Addison, dear. I have to leave for my doctor's appointment."

"Everything alright?" I asked concerned while taking her in a hug.

"Fine, just routine. Tell your father when they get back with the last load that I've gone. I'm sure he's already forgotten. You kids be good." She pulls Brady in for a quick hug then waves and head out.

We walk behind her, grabbing more boxes when at long last I ask, "Brady?"

"Yeah, babe?" He grunts, lifting a heavy one.

"Are you—" I gulp, deathly afraid of the answer. "My
mother's
…gyno?"

The box slips from his hands as he rears back with a barking laugh, shoulders shaking. "Uh no, not a chance in hell." He grasps my shoulders and moves me out of the way when my brother starts to back another load up to the door. "Watch out!"

Ashley, the way too perfect but very sweet glamour-bot, jumps out of the truck, directing Dylan's attempt at staying off the lawn with the truck.

Brady's chuckle against my temple brings my attention from her back to him.

"Not Ashley's either, babe. "

"I didn't—"

He taps the end of my nose. "I saw that brain smoking."

He knows me well.

"What about pizza-thieving Blowjob Blondie?"

"Who?" He pulls me fully into his arms

"Candy,
your student
I met that one night."

"Nope, but I gave her my card."

"What?" I slug him in the stomach and start to huff away. "You wait right there,
Dr. Reynolds.
I'm going to get my yearbook!"

"Moe." He snags my elbow and turns me in his arms, pulling me flush against his body. His arms wrap around my waist and slip into my back pockets, giving my ass a tight squeeze. "Look at me."

I refuse, burying a pouting face in his chest, so he kisses the top of my head and continues. "Addison, I have never, nor will I
ever
, cross a line in that office. It was never because it was in that room or taboo or fun for me. It was because it was
you
. Only you, Moe."

My head moves to the side, still resting against his chest.

"I have always loved you and that will never change." His words are strong, honest, leaving no room for doubt.

I lift my head and peer up at him through teary eyes. "Do you love me enough to always take a nurse in the room with you? Not a choice for them, a set rule for you."

"Will that make you happy? Stop you from wondering about every woman we see?"

"It'll help," I pout.

"Then consider it done." He gently cups my cheeks in his hands. "I'd do anything for you, babe. I love you."

"I love you too."

"Oh, before I forget," he reaches into his back pocket with a clever smirk and hands me a business card. "I went ahead and made your next appointment. Date and time are on the back."

Flipping it over, a blush of anticipation ignites. "Very conscientious of you, Dr. Reynolds. I'll see you there."

And in the midst of several pit stops in dark corners, proving time and time again that we can't get enough of each other…somehow, I get moved into our new home.

About Angela Graham

Angela Graham resides in Tipp City, Ohio, with her three beautiful children. She is a
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author of the Harmony series,
Inevitable, Irreplaceable,
and
Indestructible,
as well as a novella,
Indulge.
Collaborating with S.E. Hall, she has released two erotic short stories and is currently working on the next.

Text SEXYBOOKS to 24587 for text alerts on new releases and giveaways.

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