CHAPTER SIX
CAYLEE
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My eyes blink open before my alarm goes off, and it’s not because it was a deep, healthy sleep. I spent hours dreaming about Jake.
We weren’t strolling through a park or at the movies. We weren’t dining in Paris or skiing in Switzerland. We were in bed—how surprising—and his face was between my thighs.
I’m soaked.
I’m soaked, horny and annoyed.
How can I still be so attracted to a man who was sleeping with me while seeing another woman? I’ll tell you what I am, or at least should be, and that’s ashamed.
Ashamed of myself.
Where is my damn self-worth?
I let out a sigh and reach for my vibrator, almost as if it’s a chore that I need to get over and done with, then turn it on.
As I press it to my clit and slide it through my juices, I close my eyes.
Jake’s large shoulders and bulky arms come into view, and the memory of his tongue flicking across my nub returns with force.
I arch, lifting my hips off the bed, and turn up the speed.
“God damn you,” I moan, circling the device.
Christ, I wasn’t lying to Scarlett; Jake does have a large and very nice member, and he knows exactly how to eat a woman’s pussy.
I guess he was having lots of practice...everywhere.
The jerk.
The memory of his hands on my waist, sliding up to my breasts, has me cupping one of my own and pinching my nipple.
I’m close. Probably because I’ve been having this dream for hours, my body ready for release.
You have the sweetest pussy.
I’m startled, stimulated by the sound of his voice in my head. My core clenches.
Fuck my fingers, Caylee, that’s a girl.
Christ almighty.
How can dream Jake have such an effect on me?
My orgasm slams into me with a force that shouldn’t be possible on my own. I drop the device, my heart pounding as my pussy craves the feeling of his cock sliding inside it. In real life.
No. Bad body.
That is not happening.
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AN HOUR LATER I park my car a block away from my workplace and reach for my handbag. Digging out my lip gloss, I slide a layer of the vanilla-flavored product on and smack my lips together.
I let out a sigh.
I enjoy my job. While I call myself a dental assistant, my correct title is orthodontic assistant. It’s a specialized dental assistant role where you help the dentist with orthodontic treatments like braces and aligners.
Brad, or Dr. Thornton, is the dentist I work alongside every day. He owns the practice. He’s been a great man to work for the past three years. Despite his flirtatious nature, he’s always been professional and a fair boss.
Sliding on my sunglasses, I reach for my white lab jacket and climb out of the car. It’s a sunny day in Los Angeles, and I wish I weren’t spending it inside, but unless someone designs an outdoor dental practice, here we are.
Today is going to be busy, and stupid me, still distracted by my dream, I left my lunch in the fridge. So, I’ll be using my brief lunch break to dart out and buy something.
I run my hands down over my black capris and check that I didn’t spill any coffee down the front of my white tank top, then start walking. Brad doesn’t tolerate tardiness, and it bothers me, too, so I always make sure I’m on time.
He’s married to a nice woman, Cindy, and they have two boys. He’s reasonably private and doesn’t over share any personal details.
How was your weekend usually results in him telling me about some DIY project he worked on. Got the tiling done in the bathroom. Added bunk beds to Charlie's room. Nothing more personal than that.
His wife, Cindy, is rarely seen in the office—I think I’ve seen her three or four times, and that’s it.
Brad usually lets me babble on about my unexciting life to fill the silence in our workplace as patients lie there with their mouths open and teases me wherever possible.
“Thornton Dental, how can I help you?” Amy, our receptionist, answers the phone, shooting me a smile as I walk past her desk, mouthing good morning. “Are you an existing client?”
I head through the door separating the surgical areas from the waiting room and drop my things in my locker. Kicking off my sneakers, I change into comfortable flats and put on my lab jacket.
“Morning, Caylee,” Brad says as I enter the room and start going through my daily procedure of getting ready for our first patient. “Didn’t win the lottery, I see.”
I snort. “Next week.”
I slide out the dental tools and check that we have what we need for our first patient.
“So did you watch the final of the dance competition over the weekend?”
“Come on, you know I don’t watch that stuff. I watch very sensible documentaries about nature or whatever.”
I smile to myself and keep sorting.
“So, you did.”
“If I did, I was forced.”
I chuckle this time.
For the past three weeks I’ve raved about the couples and their performances, the gossip about their love lives and who I think is going to win. Jackson and Mindy, obviously.
“Well, you might have missed a fantastic episode.” I don’t bother naming the show—he totally watched it. “The couple who are clearly having an affair got kicked out.”
“Because of the affair?” His eyes lift from his computer screen, and I want to high-five myself for getting his full attention.
“Hard to know. Either way, my money is still on Jindy. Or is it Mackson.”
“Jindy.” He smirks and returns to the screen.
I bark out a laugh. “I knew it! You are just as obsessed.”
“Not obsessed, I just know when to appease my wife.” Brad winks quickly at me. “And yeah, that other couple is totally having an affair. Also, we never had this conversation.”
I know when to stop.
“I heard nothing.”
“Good girl. I have a reputation to uphold around here.”
I smile to myself and keep working.
He’s a handsome man. A little older than me, but let’s just say almost every woman in the office and every patient has a crush on him.
Brad pushes his chair away from the desk and glides the short distance to the dental chair. “Can you get our first patient?”
The morning flies by, and then finally one of my favorite patients arrives.
Louisa.
She’s been a patient for almost eighteen months, and I know she’s excited to get her braces off today. At fifteen, it’s such a hard age to be messing with appearance, but she’s about to walk out with a perfect smile for the rest of her life.
Opening the door, I glance around the waiting room until I find her. We have five dentists and two orthodontists, so it’s a busy practice.
“Louisa?”
“Hey!” She jumps up, her face lifting from her phone.
I notice she’s alone. “No mom today?”
“She has an appointment, so dropped me off and is picking me up afterward,” Louisa replies quickly in that teenage way.
“Okay.” I lead her down the hall and into the dentist’s office. “Fingers crossed for today.”
She nods rapidly as I close the door.
“Good morning, Louisa.” Brad smiles charmingly. “Today’s the day, hopefully. Let’s get you in the chair and maybe get these things off.”
Louisa blushes. I get it—he’s a mix of Ryan Gosling and Henry Cavill.
Although he’s a penultimate professional who never crosses the line, I have no doubt he’s aware of the attention he gets.
Even young girls like Louisa.
“That would be amazing.” She climbs up onto the chair.
I resist tugging her short dress down and promise myself, when I have a daughter, she will never wear anything above the knee.
When I spot Brad noticing, I remind myself that he might be a dad, a husband and a dentist, but he’s also a man.
Then again...Louise is a child.
As Brad starts work, my mind drifts to the weekend, and for the umpteenth time I wonder why Jake never pursued a conversation with me at the wedding. I said no, and he accepted my response.
I am disappointed.
Then again, I should have expected it.
Men like him have commitment issues, and I need to forget him.
And stop dreaming about him.