Page 47 of Wrong Number Right Doctor

It’s a warning. A weak one.

She pulls back just enough to look at me. Her eyes are dark, wild with nerves and want.

“What?” she whispers.

I press harder between her thighs.

She gasps.

I watch it happen to her. The lift. The loss of composure. The way she tries to hold my gaze and almost fails.

“That,” I say.

Her lips part.

The elevator chimes. The doors open.

For one second, neither of us moves.

Then I lower her to her feet, take her hand, and pull her into the hallway.

* * *

The room door barely closes before I have her against it.

Maggie laughs once, breathless, then the sound breaks when I kiss her. Her hands grab my shoulders, my collar, the back of my neck, as if she can’t decide where she wants me most.

I want her past deciding. I want her feeling.

I push her coat off her shoulders. It drops somewhere behind us. My mouth moves to her jaw, then her throat, and she tips her head back with a soft, helpless sound that goes straight to my cock.

“D,” she whispers.

I bite lightly at the side of her neck. She shivers.

The green top has been a problem since the restaurant. I take the hem in both hands and pull it up. She lifts her arms. For a second she stands in front of me in her bra, hair loose, lips swollen, chest rising too fast.

I stop.

Not for long. Long enough to look.

Her cheeks flush. “What?”

“You’re beautiful.” The words come out rough.

She goes still for half a breath, like she didn’t expect that.

Then her expression changes.

Not shy. Hungry.

She reaches behind herself and unhooks her bra.

Christ.

I drag it down her arms and get my mouth on her breast before it hits the floor.

She gasps. Loud. Immediate. Her fingers dig into my hair as I lick over one tight nipple, then close my mouth around it and suck.