Page 46 of The Groupie

I reach up, take his face in my hands, and kiss him. This is what we’re all about. Pure carnal lust and satisfaction. I let my physical instincts take over, breathe him in as I plant myself in the present, with him and his hot sensual mouth.

We’re both panting when he breaks away.

“Not in the car, Buttercup. I want you naked and spread out in my bed.”

His words mix up any residual anger and channel it to the lower half of my body, far away from any thinking.

* * *

Sometime early in the morning, the sunrise wakes me. Or maybe it’s the feel of a hard cock pressed against my rear, fitting perfectly and tantalizing me. Or it could be the heavily muscled arm draped over me, with a large calloused hand clutched to my breast. A light shiver of desire runs through me, and a chuckle automatically escapes before I have a chance to examine my predicament or how I feel about it. I was supposed to go home last night.

“Good morning, Buttercup.” The lazy drawl of his crackly morning voice scrapes over my sensitive nerves, lighting me up like gasoline on embers. My pussy clenches like I’m Pavlov’s dog.

I groan. “I can’t. My doctor’s appointment is at eight, and I need to—”

“Get dressed. I’ll make us coffee and breakfast.”

“You cook?” That’s what I have to say in response? Not, you’re out of your mind. I’m outta here?

“I’m no cook, but I can manage eggs and English muffins.” He leans in and nibbles my earlobe. “Before I cook, how about joining me in the shower?”

“You’re worse than the devil, tempting me every chance you get.”

“No, Buttercup. You have it all wrong. You’re the temptation around here. You’re like a drug, and I’m addicted.” He pulls away the covers, scoops his arms under me, and throws me over his shoulder as he rises from the bed.

You’d think I’d put up more of a struggle, but I fight like a five-year-old girl, mostly giggling and too turned on to resist as he carries me into the shower with his hand on my ass, caressing and making my toes curl.

* * *

Even though I’m wearing my clothes from last night—his jersey because I let Sheila talk me into it—I feel fresh and relaxed from the shower. It’s not until Zak parks the car and we’re walking into the medical building that my nerves seize up in panic.

Zak tugs on my hand. I pull it away.

“We’re not in a hand-holding relationship,” I snap. “Especially not in public.” I pull my hat lower.

He inhales deeply. “Don’t worry, Rylee. You can handle whatever the news is. You’ve handled worse setbacks.”

I look up at him. His face is soft, his eyes filled with compassion. I should never have told him about my past. What the hell was that about?

“Quit it, will you?”

He snorts. “I’m not even going to ask.” He opens the door for me, and we walk into an empty waiting room because I’m the first appointment. A measure of relief loosens me. The receptionist thanks me for filling out the online form and tells me someone will be out in a minute to get me. I pull my cap down.

Standing in the middle of the room, I don’t bother to take a seat. Zak throws an arm around me and nuzzles my neck. He’s hatless, and I frown, pulling away, but not with enough force or conviction because I’m a slave to my greedy sex hormones today. Every day, every time, I’m in Zak’s presence.

“Relax,” he says with a smirk, and I’m about to smack him in the chest when the door opens.

Panic that I’ll be caught grips me almost as hard as Zak grips me, like he thinks I’m going to flee, and maybe he’s not wrong.

Until I see who walks into the room.

Suzie and Sheila. Sheila? Suzie rushes over and gives me a hug and kiss on the cheek. She whispers, “Don’t be mad.” Then she steps away. I’m confused until the door opens again and in walks the last person I want to see.

“Chuck? What the hell are you doing here?”

“I told you I’d be here. When I called the house, I was told you were here.”

“And you took it upon yourself to show up at my doctor’s office?”