Page 47 of The Doctor

The Clara I knew I loved.

She shifted in her seat, rolling her head and popping her neck.

“You okay?”

She peered over her shoulder at me. “Just a little stiff. I’ve been studying a lot.”

“Want me to rub your back?” I asked, lifting my hand to her neck and settling my palm against her warm skin. I dragged my thumb along her throat and watched as Clara swallowed hard.

Her lips twitched. “If you want.”

Grabbing the popcorn, I moved the bowl to the table beside me, then spread my legs, patting the couch cushion between them. “Come on over.”

Her face pinched. “Are you sure?”

I took her shoulders, moving her before she was ready, dragging her between my legs. Her skin smelled delicious, and I took a deep hit of her, dragging her sweet scent into my lungs as I leaned closer to her. “I wouldn’t have offered if I weren’t.”

We both watched the screen as I smoothed my hands over her back, then dug my thumbs into the tight muscles of her shoulders and neck. She wasn’t kidding about being stiff. Her muscles were rods of steel that barely gave under the pressure of my hands.

But they did give, eventually. I could feel her relaxing as, on screen, police cars careened around corners and vehicles exploded.

“Does that really happen?” Clara asked, peeking over her shoulder at me. When I lifted my brows, she said, “The chases? The explosions? Does that happen in the Syndicate?”

Pulling her against my chest, I swept a hair away from her face. “In all my years in the Syndicate, the only vehicles that have exploded were ones we made to do so.”

“What do you mean?”

She was so close, I could have kissed her without moving an inch. I lifted my head, directing my gaze to the television, even if my attention was on the girl in my lap.

“A few years back, Queenie was trying to help her friend and her two daughters escape a vicious husband and a horrible home life. They were pursued by a guard, and there was a car accident.”

“Was there an explosion?”

I shook my head, but I knew she couldn’t see me. I slid my hands down her arms, giving her a light squeeze. “Not the way you’re thinking. We loaded the car with dead bodies, then rigged it with explosives and sent it off a cliff. We needed her husband to believe they were dead. The fire consumed enough of the bodies that they were unrecognizable, and there wasn’t enough DNA left to tell the truth.”

She looked at me again, a smile curling one side of her lips.

“What?”

“I like hearing your stories.”

“Do you now?” She shifted, settling back against me. Leaning in like she hadn’t done minutes ago. “The last time I saw a vehicle explode, it was because Queenie’s boyfriend shot a full fuel truck with his sniper rifle.”

Clara let out a noise that sounded like a stifled giggle. “I can see Mateo doing that.”

“But not all cars explode. Santini’s didn’t. He flipped his SUV and landed upside down.”

She rolled her head to one side but didn’t look back at me. “He’s the one you’ve been helping?”

I huffed out a breath. “Trying to help. He’s stubborn as hell.”

There was that sound again, and it warmed something inside me. “I feel like you can handle that.”

Wrapping her up in my arms, I pulled her closer. “I feel like you might be right.”

Clara settled her attention back on the screen, but I couldn’t focus on anything but her. Her weight against my chest. The press of her ass between my legs. The way her skin felt like satin. The way she smelled like a snack.

But then she rolled her neck again, tilting her head to the left as she bared her throat and lifted her chin. It was a blatant tease. Pure temptation riding on a storm of her fresh scent. And not leaning forward to take a taste took every ounce of willpower I had.