Chapter 24
Martin
When we leave the restaurant, Jamie walks me to my car.
“So you can be a gentleman,” I tease.
“Sometimes I have to make a good impression, you know.”
“Are you trying to impress me?”
He shrugs. “Maybe.”
“I’m flattered.”
“And is it working?”
I shake my head, smiling. “You don’t need to do much to impress anyone, and you know it.”
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“Just being you is enough.”
“So, I’m just a pretty face to you?”
“All of this,” my gaze drags down his body, “is lethal. Anyone could see it from a mile away, half-blind behind fogged-up glasses.”
He laughs, teeth sinking into his bottom lip.
Ah, for Jesus’ sake.
“Your eyes alone could start a fire. And that mouth…”
“What?” he whispers, stepping in. His palm hits the car beside my head, caging me in.
“Your mouth is…”
His breath scorches my lips.
“Yes…”
“Is…”
Jamie’s hands frame my face, dragging me to him, his mouth crashing into mine.
He’s rough, and I like it.
He’s impatient, and I like that too.
He’s pure demand, and I like that most of all.
He presses harder, bites down, cutting straight through my hesitation, through every last defence.
He doesn’t just kiss me.
He fucking claims me.
I cup his face in my hands, desperate to feel him closer.
And mine.
Tonight, he isn’t anyone Captain but mine.
I slip my tongue into his mouth, and he groans, my body trembling in response. I explore him as he explores me, both of us consumed by the moment as a surge of desire builds intensely within me, concentrated between my legs.
As if sensing what my body is going through, he presses his hips against mine, letting me feel that the same thing is happening to him, too. At the feel of his cock rubbing against mine, I rise from my car and push him towards the one next to it.
I don’t like being still; I don’t want to be his plaything.
I am not a benchwarmer.
I am a front-row player.
My hand slowly slides along the nape of his neck. I press, then bite, then press again. He needs to understand what I want — and exactly how I want it.
How much I fucking want it.
We pause, our breaths mingle, our hands still holding each other, as if either of us might decide to back out and end this unexpected madness that can only lead to trouble.
“Doctor,” Jamie gasps into my mouth. “God, Doctor,” he says again, before biting my lip and slowly releasing it.
“Did you think I would be your inanimate plaything?”
“Fuck, no. I like it. I fucking love it.”
“Good. You’d better know what you’re getting into.”
“You’re talking too much, Doctor.”
“Then you kiss me.”
Jamie doesn’t give me the chance to ask a second time. His mouth finds mine again, his tongue immediately searching for mine, like it now knows exactly where it belongs.
We kiss — fuck, yes — outside the restaurant, leaning against a car. I kiss him, and he kisses me back. We’re on equal terms now, and I love it.
“Fuck, Doctor.” Jamie pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against mine, but he still doesn’t let go. Maybe he’s afraid I’ll change my mind, that I’ll leave him here alone like I did last time. But I have no intention of doing that again.
“Am I testing your self-control?” I tease.
“You have no idea.”
I give him a smug smile.
“Wipe that smirk off your face.”
“Or what?” I push.
He doesn’t answer. He kisses me again, harder this time, showing me exactly how much he likes being provoked — and how much he wants me to keep doing it.