Chapter 54
Martin
In the car, we sit in silence. Jamie stares out the window, his hands resting on his thighs, his fingers tapping in time with the music filling the space, almost matching the rhythm of my breathing.
I wanted to bring him home, but I couldn’t ask. After the way he reacted, I just need him to see he’s the only one for me. He has to know that.
His outburst in the locker room shocked me. In his eyes, I saw hurt and anger — not at me, but at the brothers who mocked me. He wasn’t upset that I was there with the team; he was furious that they’d targeted me, and afraid I might care about someone else.
He still can’t see that I have eyes for no one else. The only way to earn his trust and help him finally let go is to show him the truth and strip away his doubts.
“You’re nervous,” I tell him, no longer able to bear his silence.
“I’m grand.”
Of course he won’t admit it.
“It was a good match,” I say, hoping to make him feel more comfortable.
“Yeah.” He smiles.
“And you were…” I let out a breath. “God. You are a god.”
He laughs, finally looking over at me. “Don’t overdo it, Doctor.”
“I don’t remember you being this modest.”
“No, but you’re hopped up on testosterone. You’re overreacting.”
He’s still holding on to what happened in the locker room.
“Maybe, but it’s not what you think.”
“I believe what I saw.”
“So do I,” I tell him as I park. I turn off the engine and turn to him. “I only saw you.”
He lowers his gaze and gives a little shake of his head.
It’s not enough.
Try again, Doctor. You can do better.
“I only ever see you.”
He looks up, eyes locking on mine with an intensity that almost startles me.
I’m deadly serious, Captain. There’s nothing else in my head, nothing in front of my eyes. It’s only you. I don’t know if this will ruin me, but I don’t care; I want it anyway.
He lifts his hand, fingers sliding behind my neck as he leans in to meet me halfway. “Do you have an obsession with me, Doctor?”
“You tell me.”
He gives a small, satisfied smile. “I like it.”
I brush my lips against his and breathe him in, kissing him slowly, again and again.
Each time I pull away and return, my certainty grows: I want him more.
Jamie responds with a hunger that matches mine, his calloused fingertips trembling along my jawline.
I can feel his longing, as if he’s caught between pain and desire.
When our lips part, a soft, aching sigh escapes him, warm against my mouth.
When we kiss again, he holds his breath — I feel his chest go still against mine — and his hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer until there’s nothing left between us but heat and the promise of more.
“Doctor,” he breathes against my lips. “I don’t want to read tonight.”
I smile into his mouth. “I had no intention of it.”
I close the door and toss the keys onto the table.
Jamie takes a few steps into the kitchen, hands buried in his jeans pockets, his back still to me.
I move in slowly, lay my hands on his shoulders, and ease his leather jacket down his arms, draping it over a chair.
Then I return to him, working the last of the game’s tension from his muscles.
I tilt my head and press my lips to his neck.
His fingers slide into my hair, threading through it, urging me closer.
I bite gently and lean into his ear, listening to his quick, uneven breaths.
My hands glide forward over his marble chest. Jamie throws his head back with a heavy sigh as I trail down his abs to the hem of his shirt.
My fingers slip beneath the fabric in search of his skin, then race upward in a frantic rush.
I stop at one of his nipples and pinch. Jamie thrusts his hips back, pressing against my erection.
I pull him in closer, my fingers digging into his flesh as Jamie turns and catches my mouth with his. His tongue, his want, invades me, and in a heartbeat that want is my own. Then he shifts, sudden and sure, cupping my face in his hands and holding me tight to him.
I’m not going anywhere, Captain. I’m here with you, and only for you.
My hands roam down his back, over the muscles gone taut under my touch, then lower to his firm arse. I give it a good squeeze, dragging him closer, and a moan slips out of me, shuddering through my body and straight into his.
His hands slide from my face to my neck, then over my chest, before slipping beneath my jacket to ease it off my shoulders.
He catches the hem of my shirt, and I lift my arms so he can tug it over my head.
For a few breathless seconds, he just stands there, staring — eyes blazing, chest heaving — until the desire in his gaze rushes through me like heat.
He kisses me again, then moves down my neck and bites my shoulder. His tongue slides over my chest. When he reaches my nipple, I can’t help but moan, almost embarrassed by how loud I am. I feel his soft laugh against my skin before he bites me again, making me grab his hair and hold on tight.
He steps back, yanks off his shirt, and lets it fall to the floor. Then he’s on me again, slamming into my body. This time, neither of us holds back. Neither of us hesitates.
We both crave it.
We’re starving for each other.
Our bodies claim, our mouths devour, and our hands — our hands roam, searching, lingering.
Our hands say everything.
“Bedroom. Now.” I press my palms to his chest and guide him back.
We reach the bedroom, both of us breathless and eager.
At the side of the bed, I push him back onto the mattress.
Jamie stays propped up on his elbows, watching me.
My hands tremble as I reach for the buttons on his jeans and undo them.
He lifts his hips, and I tug his jeans down and let them fall to the floor.
He sits up and grips my waistband, pulling me closer.
He unbuttons my trousers and slides them down my legs.
When they reach my ankles, I kick them off.
“Everything, Doctor,” he says, looking up at me. Behind the light in his eyes, I see the world.
Jamie looks at me, speaks to me, listens to me, touches me, and wants me — only with his eyes.
I slide my fingers under the waistband of my underwear and pull them down to the floor. He bites his lower lip at the sight of my erection, stretched towards him, then slips his hands behind my buttocks and squeezes them, pulling me into him.
I feel his hot breath first, then the slow, wet slide of his tongue.
At the very first touch, my knees nearly buckle.
He tightens his grip, holding my gaze as he teases me with the tip of his tongue, daring me to lose control before he’s even really touched me.
He parts his lips and slowly lowers down my shaft, his gaze locked with mine, desire thrumming between us.
My hands slide into his hair. I tug, needing something to hold on to as he tortures me with the slow movement of his mouth, but I want more — so much more this time. I need to feel him.
I grip his shoulders and pull him away from me.
Then I push him onto the bed. Jamie looks at me, his eyes on fire as I lower myself onto him.
My mouth moves slowly over his body: his lips, his neck, his shoulder blades, his chest. I pause at one of his nipples and feel him contort beneath me.
I take it between my teeth and bite down as I see him drop his head back and exhale deeply.
I continue on my way, my tongue tracing a path to his underwear.
When I reach the edge, I slip my fingers under the waistband and slide them off.
I kneel over him and close my hand around his throbbing cock.
“Fuck,” he breathes, snapping his head up.
His cock pulses between my fingers, his body trembling beneath mine, and the mix of anticipation and anxiety in his eyes only sharpens my craving for one thing.