JENNIE

I stirred awake, and it took me a moment to place my surroundings. It was brighter in the room than when I'd fallen asleep—the light was on in the bathroom and streamed softly across the bed.

I shifted, drawing up onto my elbows, and blinked quickly to adjust to the glow.

The stark white of Lisa's coat stood out first, and my gaze traveled upward to meet her eyes. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, leaning against the doorframe and a pensive look on her face.

I'd slept like the dead, and the corner of my mouth was wet. I quickly wiped the drool away with a hand, playing it off like it was a yawn and I wasn't embarrassed. "Hi. What time is it?"

"Quarter to three." Her arms came down to hang awkwardly at her side. "I'm so sorry. I thought it was going to be quick. A few hours. But we had a hard time keeping him stable, and . . ." Her gaze moved away from me, drifting to stare off at nothing.

I straightened and tried to steel my reaction. The hurt in Lisa's eyes was unmistakable. Oh, God. She'd spent all night battling for her patient—

And she'd lost.

A hole opened in my chest, and I bit down on the inside of my cheek. I was dying to say something, to offer comfort somehow, but my brain failed me. I couldn't come up with a single sentence that wasn't trite or a tired platitude.

"How much trouble are you in?" she asked. "It's so late, your mom must be worried."

I shook my head. "I told her I was staying over at a friend's."

"Oh. Good." Relief spread across her expression. Her voice was soft and light, masking her desperation. "Can you stay?"

Very little on earth could force me from this bed right now. "Yeah."

She drew in a deep breath and pushed it out, like she was cleansing her emotions. The wrinkles around her eyes were more pronounced now, and she looked exhausted as she moved toward me.

"How long have you been up?" I asked.

Her warm fingertips caressed my cheek, moving to cup the side of my face and draw me into a kiss. "I don't know. Twenty-five hours, maybe?" Her mouth tasted like coffee. Faint amusement darted through her weary eyes. "I thought I told you to get naked." She toyed with the collar of the shirt I was wearing. Her shirt, technically. "But I like this."

I warmed, trying to match her mood shift. "You told me to take off my clothes . . . which I did."

I threaded my fingers through her hair and tried to pull her down to sit beside me on the bed, but she resisted. She captured my wrists in her hands and freed herself from my grasp, straightening and giving me a studious look.

"Are you still experiencing discomfort?"

Confusion flooded me. "What?"

"Your problem earlier." Her expression hinted at the game. "Do you still have symptoms?"

My mouth rounded into an "oh" as I got it. Our scene from before, the fantasy I'd asked for. I softened. "Lisa, you've got to be exhausted. We don't have to—"

A sad smile curled at the edge of her lips. "You're always thinking about other people and never yourself. That ends tonight. Jennie, you want this, and I want to give it to you."

I frowned and opened my mouth to tell her she was being silly. It was three in the morning, but she cut me off.

"What if I tell you I need this?"

I inhaled sharply at her confession and understood instantly. Hadn't I texted her earlier tonight for a similar reason? To use my time with her to forget the heavy, emotionally draining day? I pushed my hair back, tucking it behind an ear, and struggled to refocus.

"Yes," I announced in an unsteady voice, "I have this ache that won't go away."

Gratefulness ringed her eyes, then vanished as she settled into her role. "Can you lie back? I'd like to take a look."

Just like that, the sexual charge between us was back. It snapped taut, making it hard to breathe. I leaned back into the pillow and let my hands fall to my sides, staring up at the gorgeous woman looming over me. Her scrutinizing, thoughtful gaze swept over me in the moments before she reached for the sheet and slowly peeled it out of her way. Down her attention went, taking in my bare legs, and then her attention returned upward, tracing the line of buttons on the oversized dress shirt covering me.

Perhaps her exam was clinical, but my skin burst into flames the second she touched me. Her warm fingertips pressed gently to the lymph nodes in my neck, but her touch on my throat was sensual. She trailed her fingers down, gliding them to the hollow between my collarbones.

Her hands on my body seemed to melt her exhaustion away and turned her voice into gravel. "Where does it ache?"

The muscles deep in my belly clenched. "Lower," I whispered.

As she eased back the sides of the open collar of my shirt, the steel of the stethoscope hanging around her shoulders glinted in the low light. I trapped my bottom lip between my teeth and tucked my fingertips beneath my thighs to keep my hands to myself. I wanted to snare her tie and haul her down to me, but I also didn't want this scene to end. It'd barely started, and I was already panting.

Her dark eyes turned somehow darker as her fingers located the top button and pulled it free. "I'll have to undo this to continue the exam."

The white coat, matched with her soothing doctor's voice? I didn't stand a chance. I swallowed a ragged breath and hoped she didn't notice how furiously my chest was heaving. Although I was sure she did. It didn't seem like anything got by Dr. Manoban.

She shifted the open neckline to the side, just enough to expose my bare, extended nipple. She grazed over it with her knuckles before turning her palm over and gripping me. "Here?" She looked so serious. So committed to her role. "Is this where it aches?"

I trembled under her watchful gaze, loving every second of this. I shook my head minutely. It drove her to the other side, and she repeated the action. The pad of one fingertip swirled a circle around my nipple, and then she pinched it between her thumb and the side of her hand. It was an electric shot straight to my clit, and I jolted.

"Lower," I gasped.

Her half-smile was indecent. She liked what she was doing as much as I did.

She popped the buttons on the shirt one by one at a painstakingly slow tempo. I had my knees pressed together, squeezing against the anticipation of her hand running between my legs. My heart galloped and skipped along, making the blood rush loudly through my ears. God, I wanted her so badly, but the scary thing was I wanted to please her even more.

I shivered when Lisa opened the shirt and exposed me completely. Goosebumps burst over my flesh, dotting my skin, and she coasted both palms over my trembling belly. Her eyes were half-lidded and heavy with lust while they followed the path of her hands descent to my hips.

"Here?" Her hands slid inward, her thumbs brushing lightly over my mound. "Or here?"

I arched upward. "Oh, God. There."

"Try to stay still." She was teasing and commanding in the same instant. Her hands—her fucking hands—they moved so slow. One fraction of an inch at a time, until finally, she grazed my clit. A single stroke. That was all she gave.

"It hurts there?"

"Yes," I hissed. "Yes . . . Dr. Manoban."

She sucked in a sharp breath, and my head lolled to the side to take her in completely. She was standing at the edge of the bed, and I could see the swelling bulge in her dark slacks, well within striking distance for me. I reached out and ran my palm up her inseam, cupping her through her pants, only for her to swivel her hips away.

"That's not appropriate," she said, and sweet baby Jesus, I threatened to liquify under her intense, scolding stare. Nothing about this was appropriate, and I fucking reveled in our naughtiness.

Lisa shifted on her feet, adjusting her stance so she could touch me with ease. She slipped her hand between my thighs and dragged it upward, all the way until the side of her index finger brushed against my throbbing center.

"Part your legs, please," she said.

My trembling legs fell open, giving her more room to explore. A moan ruptured from deep inside my chest, and she cocked one eyebrow, studying me. Without even trying, the throaty moan was just right. The sound I made was the same for pleasure or pain.

"On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your discomfort?" As she asked it, the pads of her fingertips massaged my clit, and I clenched my teeth so hard, I wondered if I'd split my jaw.

"Eleven," I groaned.

"Well, that's definitely a problem." Her gaze flowed down my bare body and zeroed in on her hand that stroked tiny circles where I was impossibly wet. When my hips flexed, rolling in time with her manipulations, she set the palm of her free hand flat on my belly and pressed down, pinning me to the mattress. "I can help alleviate your symptoms, but you have to hold still. Understood?"

I breathed out the words. "Yes, Dr. Manoban."

It was a million degrees in the room, and a bead of sweat trickled down my hairline. Staying motionless while I was essentially naked and she was fully clothed was a challenge, and it became a thousand percent worse as her hand increased both pressure and speed. I balled my fists into the open shirt at my sides, squeezing until my hands ached.

The sensation built with each stroke of her fingers, and I threatened to fly apart. It felt so good. Whimpers leaked from my mouth. I tried my hardest to stay still, but Lisa obliterated that option when she sank her middle finger deep inside me, all the way to the last knuckle.

"Fuck," I whispered, bowing up off the bed.

Only for her strict hand on my belly to shove me back down. Her gaze locked onto mine and her expression was firm. "Quit squirming," her eyes said. But I couldn't help it. As she pumped her thick finger in and out of me, growing slicker with each decadent thrust, my hips undulated to match her movement. It was uncontrollable. My body was in command, and I was merely a slave to it. A passenger along for the crazed, exquisite ride.

And the view. God, she looked amazing. So professional in her fitted doctor's coat and tie. She looked like a woman who'd finish surgery and then enjoy eighteen holes of golf. Instead, she'd come home to a naked nineteen-year-old girl waiting in her bed for her to fuck her senseless.

As long as I was disobeying her and not being a good 'patient,' I figured I'd cross the line completely. My hand shot out a second time and I skated my palm over the thick line of her erection, caressing and stroking the hard muscle beneath the fly of her pants.

Her expression went razor-sharp, and it squeezed the air from my lungs. But instead of pulling away, her hand came off my stomach and ripped at her belt, trying to undo her pants one-handed. "You want to behave inappropriately? Let me give you a lesson in how it's done."

My pussy clenched down on her finger as she freed her hard dick from her pants, pushing the sides of her underwear down and out of our way. She had to hold her shirt and the end of her tie up, flattening it against her defined stomach with a hand. I barely got a chance to swallow a breath before the head of her cock was in my face, pressing against my mouth and demanding entrance.

She shivered as I parted my lips and welcomed her inside. A second finger from her pushed into me, stretching my body and moving at just the right speed to send quivers along my spine. The way her rough fingers fucked me mirrored the way she did it to my mouth. Our scene together was rapidly devolving, but I was swept up in the urgency. My fantasy wasn't breaking down—it was simply changing. Morphing into something unexpected and exciting.

I swirled my tongue over the hard column of flesh filling my mouth, using the tip to trace each protruding vein. She groaned in satisfaction, and heat swelled low in my back, rising upward as I neared an orgasm. Her thumb flicked over my clit, strumming me as she jammed her fingers deep inside.

She could touch me a million times and I was sure I'd never get used to it. It'd always feel this amazing. It'd always cause my toes to curl and my heart to beat wildly.

Going down on her was like drowning, only in a way you enjoyed losing the battle. The struggle to breathe, the desperate movement to keep up. I wanted to push myself and see how much I could take. I opened the back of my throat and let her drive further—all the way until my eyes watered and a horrible choking sound ripped from the back of my throat.

Lisa retreated in an instant, withdrawing completely. As she pulled away, I was left feeling impossibly empty, hanging right on the edge. My eyes went wide, and I reached for her, but her expression froze me in place.

She looked . . . unsure.

"Is everything okay?" My words were raspy, my throat raw.

A shift went through her, and the cool, confident doctor persona snapped back into place. "Can you turn over, please? Onto your stomach."

I really, really wanted to resume what we'd been doing just a second ago, but I was so close to coming and desperate for release, I was willing to do anything she asked. I turned onto my side, then rolled onto my stomach, pressing my breasts into the mattress. The pillow was cool against my cheek as I turned my head to peer up at her.

"That's good," she said. "Perfect."

She adjusted the waistband of her underwear, tucking herself away. Her fly was yanked up, but the button at the top was left undone, and I frowned in my confusion. Were we taking a step backward? Had I done something wrong?

Lisa's focus turned to her left. She leaned over, pulled open the drawer of her nightstand, and jammed a hand inside. Items rattled around, and then she dropped something onto the top of the nightstand with a crinkle of wrappers and a distinct thud. It was dim in the room, and before I could get a good look, she turned and blocked my view. She gripped the hem of the dress shirt I was wearing, drew it up, and cool air wafted over my newly-exposed ass.

Warm palms smoothed over my curves, sliding across my skin like it was made of silk. Any other time I would have found this sensual massage relaxing, but not now, not when my heart threatened to leap from my chest. My impatient body demanded satisfaction. I could barely tolerate it when she began to knead my cheeks, working her way down to my legs, rubbing the backs of my thighs.

"You're tense." Her tone was reassuring. "Try to relax."

Was she kidding? I was tense because she'd left me in this worked up state half the damn night—

Thoughts scattered when her hand veered up between my legs, running through my cleft, and then continued its indecent path up, slipping shockingly between my cheeks.

Holy fuck.