CHAPTER SIX
Ella
“Sleep well?”
Cole’s deep voice made me jump as I exited my hotel room the next morning. He was leaning against the wall, looking unfairly attractive in tactical gear at seven in the morning. The memory of yesterday’s kisses—and the dreams they had inspired—made my panties wet yet again.
“Fine. Good. Normal REM cycles and everything.” I fumbled with my key card. “Though anticipation can cause disruption in standard sleep patterns.”
“Did you think about me?” He pushed off the wall, crowding me against my door. “When you touched yourself?”
My mouth went dry. “That’s... that’s a very personal question.”
“Baby, we’re about to get very personal.” His voice dropped.” I thought about you. All night. About how wet you’ll be for me. How tight. How perfect you’ll feel when I’m buried inside you. So. Fucking. Deep.”
I looked at him, my heart in my throat. Did that mean? “Are you?”
He chuckled darkly. “Oh, yeah, little doctor.”
Relief flooded through me, along with a fresh wave of wetness. “Good, good. I’ve prepared a theoretical framework based on progressive exposure therapy—”
He cut me off, both hands braced beside my head. “No, baby. No lesson plans needed. I’m going to fuck you. Thoroughly. Repeatedly. Until you forget every medical term you know. Until the only word you remember is my name.”
“That’s... that sounds perfectly acceptable.”
He smiled then, stepped back, a professional mask sliding back into place. “Let’s go.”
All I could think about on the way to the office was that he’d agreed to deflower me. I tried to distract myself by reciting the bones of the foot, but then I made the mistake of looking at his hands on the steering wheel and my mind went straight to what those hands were going to do to me.
“You’re thinking medical terms again,” he said without looking at me.
“How can you tell?”
“You get this little wrinkle between your eyes. It’s adorable.” His voice roughened. “Makes me want to kiss you until you can’t remember any of them.”
I huffed. “I do not get wrinkles. Though the corrugator supercilii muscle can cause temporary—”
“Tonight,” he cut me off. “I’ve arranged something special.”
The promise in his voice made me squirm. “Special?”
“You’ll see.” His smile was half indulgent, half satisfied male. “Try not to think about it too much during work.”
Of course, that was all I could think about. That and the goodbye kiss he’d given me. For the first time, I truly understood the meaning of the word French kiss.
“Earth to Dr. Hawkins.” Sally’s voice snapped me back to reality. “You just wrote ‘sexual intercourse’ instead of ‘strep throat’ on the chart.”
“What? No, I didn’t.” But there it was in my handwriting.
She snatched the chart away and quickly corrected my error. “Okay, spill. What happened?”
“Cole agreed to my proposal,” I whispered. “About the... extra lessons.”
“The sex lessons?” Sally practically squealed. “Emergency shopping trip at lunch. No arguments.”
“Shopping?” I blinked. “For what?”
She gave a dramatic eye roll. “What do you think. I know the odds are against you owning anything sexier than those practical cotton panties you’re wearing right now.”
I neither denied nor confirmed her observation. “What’s wrong with cotton? It’s breathable and hygienic.”
“Everything,” she declared. “Everything is wrong with cotton panties for a night like tonight. This is a lace and silk situation.”
And that was how I found myself in an upscale lingerie shop on my lunch break, surrounded by scraps of lace that probably cost more than the textbooks from my last semester in med school.
“But the elasticity coefficient of this material can’t possibly provide adequate support,” I protested as Sally held up something that was more string than fabric. Honestly, I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with it, much less wear it on my curvy frame.
“Stop.” She held up a very lacy, practically see through bra. “No more medical analysis of lingerie. This isn’t about support or breathe ability. This is about making that man’s brain short-circuit.”
“But—”
“No buts. Well, actually, yes butts. This will look amazing on yours.”
I eyed the garment skeptically. “With my curves? I don’t think so.” I reached for a pair of boy briefs that I normally favored.
“Oh, honey. Let me tell you something about curves.” She gestured to her own voluptuous figure. “You see this? I’ve been married five years, and my James still looks at me like I’m dessert. Men like Cole? They want a woman, not a hanger.”
“But in medical school, this one guy said—”
“If you quote one more med school boy who couldn’t handle a real woman, I’m going to prescribe you a reality check.” She sorted through the racks with determination. “Trust me on this. I saw the way Cole looked at you when he picked you up. Like he wanted to take a bite out of that ass you’re trying to hide.”
I felt my face flame. “Sally.”
“What? I’m just stating facts.” She pulled out a navy blue set that made me gasp. “Now this? This is going to make him forget how to speak English. Possibly how to breathe.”
“It’s beautiful, but...” I touched the lace hesitantly. “I’ve always been too... much. The male residents used to say—”
“The other residents,” she cut me off, “were intimidated by a woman who’s both brilliant and beautiful. You think Cole looks at you and sees too much? That man looks at you like you’re a feast and he’s been starving.”
“You really think so?” I hated how small my voice sounded.
“Girl.” She stopped sorting through lingerie to face me fully. “You know what my James says? He says God gave the best women curves because straight lines don’t make hearts.”
Something tight in my chest loosened. “That’s... actually really sweet.”
“Exactly. And from the way Cole was eye-fucking you in the lobby this morning? This lingerie isn’t going to stay on long enough for you to calculate its structural integrity.” She added three more sets to our pile. “Now stop overthinking and start trying these on. We’ve got a man to render speechless.”
By the time the office closed, I was a nervous wreck. I’d read every medical text on first-time intercourse, but none of them prepared me for the look in Cole’s eyes as he waited for me in the lobby.
“Ready?” His voice held such dark promises.
I clutched my bag of scandalous purchases. “First-time sexual encounters often result in—”
“Ella.” He guided me to the SUV with a hand on my lower back. It was such a protective and dominating gesture that of course I creamed my panties yet again. I should have bought more cotton I thought almost hysterically. I wanted this so badly. With him. But I was afraid I’d make a mess of it. “Stop thinking about statistics.”
“I can’t help it. Did you know that the average duration of penetrative intercourse is approximately—
“Trust me, little doctor.” He opened my door with another of those wickedly sexy smiles. “Nothing about tonight is going to be average.”
When we reached the hotel, he took me to my room and ordered me to pack a bag for the weekend. Then, we got on the elevator and headed up. I looked at him in surprise. He didn’t answer, just led me to a suite when the doors opened. Inside, the drapes were drawn, but soft lighting and the glow from an electric fireplace gave the room a warm and cozy feel. Through an open doorway I could see rose petals scattered across a massive bed.
“I thought you’d be more comfortable here than at my place. For the first time.” His voice was gentle despite the heat in his eyes. “Though something tells me you’re about to quote a study about romantic ambiance and oxytocin production.”
I closed my mouth, caught.
His laugh was pure sin as he stalked toward me. “No more studies. No more statistics. Just you, me, and all the deliciously filthy things I’m going to teach you.”
As his hands slid under my shirt, I decided maybe it was time to stop thinking and start learning through hands-on experience.