Chapter 48
Jamie
“You’re not coming to mine.”
“You could come to my place.”
“Have you heard my son?”
“Since when do you listen to a kid?”
“Since he made me realise I should actually think things through.”
“You sound like a very serious, very thoughtful guy.”
“I was. Now I’m not so sure,” he says softly, his eyes dropping.
I gently lift his chin with two fingers and tip his face up to mine.
“You know rightly how things are.”
“I can picture it, but I can’t know for sure unless you tell me.”
“I was grand until the Captain came along and turned everything upside down.”
“Is that what I did?”
“What do you reckon?”
I smile. “Good.”
“I knew it. Your ego must be about ready to burst.”
I slide my hand around the back of his neck and pull him closer.
“I can’t just let you go home alone.”
“Are you trying to scare me now?”
“I’ll be gone before dawn.”
“Again?” He raises an eyebrow, clearly annoyed.
“Only so I can go home and get ready for training.”
He lets out a long, heavy sigh.
“All I want is to be with you. I swear, I won’t touch you unless you’re begging me on your knees. Then again, I can already see it.”
“Fuck you.”
I give him a small, crooked smile. “Only if you’re with me.”
When we step into his apartment, the Doctor is even more on edge than before, like he felt he had no choice but to bring me here.
I’m the one who pushed for it; I couldn’t just let the night end like that.
I want more time with him. If he’s left on his own, he’ll start overthinking, convince himself he’s making a mistake, and call it off. I can’t let that happen.
I walk over to him in the kitchen, where he’s fidgeting, and rest my hands on his shoulders. His muscles are tight under my fingers.
“You’re tense.”
“I’m just tired.” He sounds defensive.
“You didn’t want me to come over,” I press.
He exhales heavily and finally looks at me. “It’s not that I didn’t want you here. It’s just that it feels a bit odd after the way you left the last two times.”
“It won’t be like that this time.”
“I’d like to believe you.”
“Ah, give me some credit, will you?”
He gives me a faint smile. “Okay.”
“I guess you had a long day.”
“As always.”
“Then relax. Go on, get comfortable, lie down while I make some tea.”
He eyes me, suspicious. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I want to.”
He studies my face, looking for a catch.
“Come on,” I say, gently steering him towards the bedroom. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
The Doctor heads to his room, and I search for what I need to make tea. I turn on the kettle, open the cabinets, and take out two cups, tea bags, and sugar. Then I open the fridge for milk. Once the cups are prepared, I carry them to his room.
The Doctor is stretched out on the bed in nothing but his trousers.
My gaze wanders over his bare chest, his shoulders, the line of his neck, before finally settling on his face.
He looks good— lean, defined, undeniably sexy.
But it’s his face that ruins me. He looks every inch a man, but he still has that insolent manner that does something to me, that look that…
“Are you enchanted?” he says.
I cross the room and set the cups on the bedside table.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Doctor.”
“You seemed very… interested.”
“Maybe I am.”
“Do you want to come lie down beside me?” he asks, the slightest bit unsure.
“On one condition.”
“Go on then…”
“Would you read to me? If you like, if you’re not tired.”
His smile opens with hope. “Gladly.”
Something in me cracks open.
“Do you mind if I…?” I catch my fingers in the waistband of my jeans.
“Make yourself comfortable.”
“I swear I’ll keep my underwear on.”
He laughs, shaking his head, but when I slide off my jeans, the Doctor isn’t laughing anymore. I fold them over the back of a chair and tug my shirt over my head. His eyes stay on me as I move around the bed, sit down, and lean my back against the headboard.
“Won’t you be cold like that?” he says, teasing.
“I feel like I’m burning up from the inside, trust me.”
“You idiot.” He shakes his head.
I take his face in my hands. “This is all new to me. Just give me a bit of time.”
“I can do that.”
I lean in and let my lips brush his — a soft, uncertain kiss — before I pull away.
“Were you serious about wanting me to read to you?” he asks.
“I was deadly serious.”
The Doctor turns, takes one of the cups, and passes it to me. I leave it on the bedside table while he reaches for the book.
He opens it and says quietly, “I have not moved on.”
“Were you waiting for me to come back?”
“I think I never would have finished it.”
He doesn’t answer me straight, but I know what he means: he was sure I’d never come back.
He starts to read from where we left off. I relax into him and rest my head on his shoulder, drinking in the warm, steady sound of his voice, his breath keeping time with the words, his scent, and the easy hush wrapped around these walls.
And I’m fine. I feel good. I’m in the right place, doing the right thing. And still, somehow, it’s even harder to breathe.