Kimberly

Tonight was everything I didn't know I wanted. Being with Tommy makes me feel like I'm a whole different person. It makes me want to dance in the dark and sing in the shower. I don't think I've laughed this much in one night in… maybe ever.

When I see my room number come into view, I know that it's the signal that one of the best nights of my life is now over. Who knew I would have so much fun with Dr. Flirt?

"Thanks for tonight," I say, my heart threatening to beat right out of my chest, "Believe it or not, I did have a good time… you're something else, Tommy."

His head tilts towards me and I find it hard to not swoon. "Is that a good thing?"

"Yes," I laugh, "It is."

"Does that mean that you're gonna invite me in?"

I freeze for a second. Do I want him to? Short answer: Yes. Long answer: It's a complicated yes. But when I really think about it, I know that giving him that invitation might lead him to think that the door for something else is open. I'm not a one-night-stand type of gal. Being with Tommy will just about ruin me. I know it will. So while I would love to not go to sleep alone tonight, I just can't do it.

"Definitely not," I whisper. "I can't let you think that your so-called confidence can get you everything you want."

No! That's a lie. Damn it!

Tommy narrows his eyes ever so slightly as if he's studying me and then leans back and gives me a small and undeniably sexy smirk.

"I think we both know that if I really wanted to, I could have you begging for me to come inside."

I think I've lost my ability to breathe. He's absolutely correct. Hell, I have no true objections besides what my stupid mouth is saying. Please make yourself at home.

"Is that so?" I lift my brow.

"Yes," He answers, calmly.

That straight posture and square jaw might just be my undoing, but I have to be stronger than that. I have to stand my ground, although it's sinking below my feet.

"Goodnight, Dr. Oliver."

With that said, I turn around and head inside my room. Immediately my back goes against the cool metal door separating us and I use it to prop myself up. My legs quivered like a leaf in the breeze. Pretending that he doesn't get to me is becoming harder and harder the more time we spend together. Tommy Oliver is under my skin and I need to bleed him out.

I patiently wait for a knock on my door after just slamming it on Tommy's face but I hear nothing. I let a beat go by and then two… still no knock. Did I leave him that stunned?

I push myself on the tips of my toes to look out the peephole and I don't see him. Did he leave? I put my hand on the doorknob to open it and then pause.

This is just what he wants, isn't it? To have me chase after him after all of this time. He wants me to want him to want me… I'm not making any sense anymore.

Too bad Dr. Oliver. I am not like the millions of people on your little Instagram page. One kiss from you isn't going to have me begging for more. No matter how good it was or how fast my heart was beating. But it did remind me how good it felt to be wanted again, to be desired, to feel like a woman.

There's an attraction there, I can't ignore it. He's gods gift to women and I'm no one special. I can understand why I'm so drawn to him, but what is it that he sees in me? Maybe I've allowed the words of my ex-husband to haunt me for too long, maybe I looked at myself in the mirror too long for his infidelity when I never should have. Either way, I have a long road to go until I feel comfortable in my skin again. Healing takes time.

Trying to put the night behind me, I dig through my clothes and find something clean to sleep in. I shower quickly and slip into my dry clothes and hope that I can get through tomorrow so that I can go home and see my children. This was a nice break from the normal, but life has to get back on course. As much fun as this was, I don't think I'll be taking Trini's spot in any more seminars. One for a lifetime is fine by me.

The light from my phone on my nightstand draws my attention.

A message? I look at the clock on the wood table and it reads 12:15. Who the hell is texting me at this hour? Oh my god. Did someone die? Surely they'd call, right? A text is just so impersonal.

Come to my room, Freckles. The night isn't over.

I stare at my phone with my lip sandwiched between my teeth so hard I begin to taste metal. It's him. But, what? The night isn't over?

"Huh?" I whisper.

I look at my phone again and again, making sure that I'm reading the message correctly. This can't be real, can it? I knew I shouldn't have given him my phone number.

Tommy: Or I guess I can make my way back to your room.

A soft smile crosses my face. The three little dots at the bottom of the screen tell me he's writing another message.

Tommy: but I'll be loud getting there and then everyone will know.

My fingers tremble over the keyboard. Quickly, I type out a reply.

Me: Know what?

Damn it! I just gave him an opening.

Tommy: That you're my girl, of course.

"What?" I breathe.

Tommy: I have the top floor to myself.

There's a part of me that knows that I shouldn't be doing this. Continuing this conversation will tell him that I'm a participant in his little game. But as hard as I try, I can't help myself.

Me: Meaning?

A reply bounces back almost immediately.

Tommy: We can be as loud as we want.

A breath trembles out of me as I type up a reply.

Me: Why would we be loud?

I wait patiently for his reply and I feel like an idiot. This is just what he wants, isn't it?

Tommy: It's lonely.

Me: I'm sure you have a little black book for the city. Why not call one of them?

Tommy: Not interested.

So he's not denying it.

Tommy: I need to please a woman tonight, freckles.

I swallow. How vague.

Tommy: and only you will do.

My heart thunders and I can practically see the smirk on the other end of the message. I'm sure he's so proud of himself. Am I really that desperate that I'm falling prey to the likes of Tommy Oliver? I'm sure he does this shit as a second career. I know men like him.. I work with men like him. They think the sun shines out of their ass because they're brilliant. Well I'll have you know, Tommy fucking Oliver, I am not like the other girls in your life. I don't care about your fancy designer suit, your thirty-thousand dollar watch, or that your shoes were imported from Italy. That doesn't impress me. I have self-respect and a few suggestive texts and a lopsided smirk will not have me sneaking up to the top floor.

The ride up to his suite was quiet as I contemplated my decision. There are a million reasons why this is so wrong… but there are a million-and-one reasons why I don't give a damn. One night won't kill me, will it? This is just so unlike me. Too late to turn back now.

I chose to not reply to Tommy's ridiculous text, instead opting to leave him wondering if his lame pick up line worked or not. Needing to make him sweat is my game, even if just for a moment.

The ding from the elevator breaks me out of my trance and I cautiously step out. I know he said he's the only one on the floor, but what's to say that he isn't lying and I'm about to run into one of the many women that have been throwing themselves at him? For all I know, the door to his suite could be revolving.

My gaze falls to the flooring that's lining the halls. It's different than the one on my floor. Where I had low-piling carpet with a modern twist, his had white marble with gold veining throughout. Quickly, I become conscious of the sound my heels make when I take each step. It was like a countdown, ticking down to his room. I had decided to change into what I had worn to the conference earlier today, sleek and down to business.

But a woman like me had no business with a man like him.

When I finally reach his room, I let out a deep exhale and give two soft knocks on his door. I tell myself that if he doesn't answer within five seconds then I'll leave… Tommy answers in two. He was definitely expecting me, as if there was never a chance that I wouldn't show up at his door.

He stands tall and tempting in front of me, his gorgeous grin curved to the right. His typically styled hair is untamed and I'm dying to run my fingers through it. Unable to help myself, I take him in. The wet clothes that had been clinging to him earlier were gone, replaced with a plain white T-shirt and loose shorts. I like casual Tommy a lot more. Suddenly, I feel overdressed.

"Ms. Hart," He smiles down at me.

Moving to the side, he allows me to step in and I have a small moment of panic when I hear the click of his door. I can feel him behind me as I take step after step, my heart clashing like cymbals in my ear. When I make it to the living quarters, I stop and take in the massive room. It's like five times the size of mine. There's a full-sized living room with a fireplace and a functioning kitchen in here, with marble lining all surfaces. Who the hell needs a room this big?

"Fancy seeing you here, Freckles."

I try to keep my cool by giving a casual shrug, "There was nothing on TV."

He throws his head back laughing so loud and carefree. "You know how to humble a man, you know that?"

I snicker to myself.

He holds his arms out wide to the grand room and gives a little spin, "Well…what do you think?"

All I can notice is the width of his wingspan and how his shirt strains around his biceps. In another life, this man could play centre for the LA Lakers.

I pretend to take an unimpressed look around. "Your room is a little bigger than Stuart's."

He comes behind me and grips my waist with his strong hands. The scent of his crisp body wash is driving me wild.

"And how would you know that?" He whispers in my ear.

My smile turns innocent, "I just came from there."

His grip tightens just a little as he laughs in my ear, "He couldn't satisfy you correctly so you decided to come to the room of a man that properly could?"

I know that this is a game and we're joking around but doubt makes its way through. He doesn't actually think that I'd be capable of doing something like that? Did coming here give him the impression that I do this all the time? I don't. The last time I had sex was… well… Travis. It's been years.

"I… well…" I don't even know what to say. "Tommy," I sigh, "you need to know that I'm not the type of woman that does this on the first date."

"Good thing it's our second," he says.

Is he even listening? "I mean, I'm not the type of girl that does this."

"And I'm the guy that does… so it evens out."

He has to have sensed my shift because before I'm able to say any more he brings his hands to my shoulders and gently rubs my arms, "Relax, freckles. I'm kidding."

I take a small step forward and turn around to face him, "Is that what you really think, though? That I do stuff like this all the time?"

His eyes lock with mine and he gives a single shake of his head, "I think that you are a classy woman, Hart. That this is a first for you and that I must be the luckiest man in New York right now."

My anxiety falls from panic to mild.

Way to ruin the mood, poser. Why did I make this a thing? So uncool.

"You should play the lottery," I say, trying to bring back the playfulness of our previous conversation.

"With you here, I feel like I've already won." He stares at me, and for the first time, I truly believe it. I feel like a prize but not in a possessive way. Like I truly am worthy of being sought after.

I bite at my lip and he takes a few steps backwards towards the bar, "I love it when you do that."

My cheeks burn and I avert my gaze. This. Man.

At the bar, he pulls out a bottle of champagne and two thin glasses. The pale-colored liquid gets filled halfway and Tommy walks back towards me.

"Are we celebrating?"

"It settles the nerves." He extends the glass.

I take it and take a small inhale. The bubbles crackle on my tongue as the liquid moves past my lips, our eyes lock behind our glasses.

Fear creeps up my spine that perhaps we've built this up too much, that maybe once this is all over, he'll be disappointed.

And as if he had a sixth sense, he takes the drink from me. Without a solitary word, he takes my face in his hands and kisses me. I do the only thing that comes to mind and reciprocate. His hands move down towards my waist and pulls me towards him, allowing me to feel him stiffening beneath his pants.

I tremble in anticipation when his tongue slips past my lips.

This is just too good… it's intoxicating. This is so not me. But maybe that's what I need. A diversion from the same routine. Somehow we're stumbling through his suite, hands roaming, chests rising, electricity crackling.

We make it to his bedroom, which I'm thankful is only somewhat illuminated, and he throws me on the bed. In one quick swoop, he pulls his shirt up and over his head and tosses it at my face.

I giggle as I pull it down and my breath catches as I see his chest for the first time. He has a broad and thick chest, with a light scattering of hair that runs down the middle of his muscular abdomen, and skin that's painted with the most beautiful tan I have ever seen. It's almost un-fucking-real. No tan lines.

"Do you get a spray tan?" I say the first thing that comes to mind.

"That's what you want to say to me right now?" He laughs as he stares down at me.

I smile, "I don't see any tan lines."

"And a spray tan is the only way to achieve that?"

I brush my legs together, "Is that a yes?"

He gives me a lopsided smirk and an answer that leaves me breathless. "I tan in the nude."

I suddenly have no words that won't make me look like a desperate catholic school girl. I've already lost most of my cool points, better not make it all of it.

The next thing to go was his shorts and it was then that I realize that Tommy Oliver likes to go commando. My mouth goes dry as I stare at all that there is to stare at. I mean, what can I say? I'm impressed he doesn't trip over it.

He lifts a brow at me, awaiting my appraisal. "Well… what do you think?" He says just like he had earlier.

"How does it all fit in your pants?" I ask, genuinely curious.

As if tormented, he sighs, "It's a curse, unfortunately. Leaves no room for underwear."

"Or tan lines."

I catch his smile from the corner of my eye.

"On the one hand, I can see where your arrogance comes from," I whisper.

His grin turns bashful. "Confidence."

And he is. I can see why now. Everything about him is dripping with it.

He drops to the bed and kisses me softly, he's warm and naked and everything a man should be above me. Dominating me.

"Now you," he says against my lips and he flips us over so that I'm on top of him. "And slowly… I want to enjoy this."

I… was not prepared for a fucking performance. I thought this was just a hook-up… there's a show? I… I don't think I'm ready.

"Relax, freckles," He says, against my lips again "Get out of your head. No pressure. This is supposed to be fun."

This is fun… I mean, it was when I was just an observer.

I stand where he was just moments ago and I look down at the gorgeous man with his eyes fixed on me.

My eyes close as I begin to undo the buttons on my top.

"Slower," he commands. "You can't rush a marinate."

"Marinate?"

"Some call it foreplay, I call it marinating."

I am about to be his biggest disappointment. Tommy must have an insane work schedule. He likely lives at the hospital when he isn't at conferences, yet he manages to still rival Chris Hemsworth in the muscle department. I, on the other hand, haven't had the chance to hit my local Zumba class in over two years. I don't have the body of those twenty-something Instagram influencers, my breasts are no longer on their A-game. My body has grown three beautiful children and done about nothing else for me. I am not top-tier filet mignon.

The whole 'imagine the audience in their underwear' routine doesn't really apply to this situation, does it? The cold air hits my chest as I drop my top and faint bumps ripple through my skin. I slip my skirt and underwear off like a damn bandaid, just wanting this moment to be over with already. There's nothing but the sound of my heart beating in my ear for a moment. Silence isn't what I want.

"Open your eyes, Hart." He murmurs darkly, "Look at what you do to me."

I have no other choice but to obey. When my eyes spring open, I see Tommy slowly stroking himself while he watches me. His jaw is tight and his legs are spread, but what really gets me are the protruding veins on his right arm as he continues working on himself. As a nurse, I have to say that there is nothing more attractive than a good, thick vein… and Doctor Oliver has plenty. It's like nurse porn.

Oh. My. God.

I can't look away… I mean, I don't want to. What a sad life I've lived, to be thirty-six, have three children, and be inexperienced. Never have I been with someone so comfortable in their sexuality. In my ear, the sound of my drumming heart is slowly replaced by Tommy's raspy groan, and knowing that I'm the cause of it nearly throws me over the edge.

Seeing him like this, so focused and determined, muscles flexed, abs rippled, only reminds me that the two of us are polar opposites.

I unconsciously move my arms to cover my body and Tommy stops what he's doing and props himself up on his elbows. "What are you doing?" He asks, his voice husky.

"Nothing," I whisper, a little embarrassed at making this a bigger deal than it is.

He sits up fully, his feet firmly planted on the floor.

"It doesn't seem like nothing," He pulls my hands from my body and gives a kiss to each palm. "Did I get too carried away?"

My heart races at this small affection and then I realize just how much of a jerk I'm being. He thinks he did something.

"It's not you."

He kisses my hands again, "Ah, the whole 'it's not you, it's me' excuse."

"But it's true," I give him a soft smile, "You… you're perfect."

"Watch what you say. It might give me a big head," he winks.

"Stop," I push at his chest playfully, "even what you say is perfect. I… I'm inexperienced and insecure… my body is nowhere near your standards… none of that is sexy."

"Standards?" He looks at me, puzzled. "Kim," he uses my name and my eyes widen. The games have stopped. "I don't know what kind of asshole you think I am, but you are the most beautiful woman I have ever had the honor to see."

He pauses, as if to collect his thoughts. "I don't have standards. I love all women… I'm an ally," he gives me a sheepish grin. "Big fan."

I don't know whether to kiss him or smack him.

"Although, now that I've seen perfection…" he runs his hands down the back of my thighs, "I may now have to have some."

He plants a soft kiss to my abdomen that have a few faint and lingering stretch marks from my pregnancies. Another to the scar where I had my appendix removed a few years ago. His large brown eyes look up at me, bringing a sincerity I had never seen in him before.

"Every inch of you is beautiful," he continues planting kisses up my body. My heart pounds against my chest with every kiss. "And I can't wait to spend all night proving it to you."

His hands travel up my body until they cradle my face. He kisses me again, softer than before.

We fall on the bed together as his soft lips continue to take mine.

This is the most gentle we've ever been. I can tell that he wants me to believe him and I surprisingly do. There's something about Tommy that just makes you feel special, that makes you feel worthy. Maybe it's how much attention he actually pays to you. Right now, I feel like the star of the show.

"Let me worship you," he whispers. I move to bite my lip but he beats me to it, sandwiching my lower lip between his teeth until I fear it will leave a mark.

Just for tonight, get out of your head.

"Tell me, what makes all the girls go crazy for you?" I breathe.

His lips begin to make a trail down my body, but he stops and looks up at me, "Isn't it obvious? It's my big… brain."

I turn my head to the side and laugh

"And my hands," he says, swiping his fingers through my center. "And my tongue," he continues, giving me a slow and sensual lick.

My hands fall into his dark hair as I revert back to the last time I was touched by a man. God, this is the worst time to be thinking about this, but how can I not when I feel like I'm finally being touched like I should? Travis would never do this. He was as selfish as he had always been. Why did I put up with his shit for so long?

That thought rightfully went away when his thick tongue swiped through my flesh again. My back arched slightly off the bed and a smile spread across my face.

When he did it a third time, a loud yelp fled my lips and I quickly threw a hand over my mouth.

Tommy pulled my hand from my face," We have the whole floor, remember? Scream all you want."

It was like the largest green flag I had ever seen. "Thank you," I say, suddenly, unsure of why I feel the need.

Tommy's laugh tickled my thigh, "Don't thank me yet."

I move my hand over my mouth once again to contain my laughter, "I'm sorry but I have to. Thank you."

His lopsided smirk returns, "Never had a girl thank me before I made her finish. It's kind of nice. A guy could get used to that."

I look down at him, "Consider that my parting gift to you."

"What? Creating an unfillable void? You might just ruin me after this, freckles. I have a reputation to uphold or did you forget?"

My goodness. He's so damn fun to banter with.

The opportunity to reply to him disappeared, because in the next moment he was sucking at me like I was the best tasting thing he had ever had in his life. My head fell back into the pillow as he twisted his fingers inside of me. He was playful, he was hungry, he was every way that a man should be. My hands fisted the expensive sheets beside me, not giving a damn if they may tear.

When my whimpers turned to pleading gasps, his licks turned ravenous. He hooked my thighs over his shoulders, pinning me to bed, giving me no escape— not that I had any plans to. An eruption was building up inside of me and I shut my eyes at in attempt to suppress it, but the explosion billowed out of me, bringing with it a fog of stars.

I tried to gently push Tommy's head away, but he was cemented in place. It was almost like he was doing this for himself. He needed this more than I did.

"So good," he murmurs on my skin. "I can't stop."

My mouth falls open as I watch him devour me like he'd never get the chance again. To all the women that have come before me (literally), I get it now. This man deserves to be worshiped, he deserves his reputation, he deserves to be on every cover of People's Sexiest Man Alive. And if this is what he considers marinating, I can't wait for the fucking meal.

A cry escapes me once again as his fingers work some kind of magic inside of me. Trying to be the cool girl has never been my forte, and at this moment, I don't care. So I'm loud, I'm expressive, I give him everything he wants because he's giving me everything I need to feel alive again. When I shudder, he moves back up my body and plunges his tongue in my mouth.

I'm inebriated by our combined taste. Things will never be this good again. Wanting o return the favor, my hand slips between us until I take all of him in my hand, thick in my fist. His head falls to my neck, where I hear his euphoric groans at their full capacity.

We're working on some kind of primal instinct where we don't even have to speak to know what the other wants. I've never been more sure about anything in my life than this moment right now.

"You've got to slow down there, freckles," he rasps into my throat, "I don't think I can hold off for much longer."

"I can't," I tell him. "I can't control myself."

Why am I telling him this?

"If we don't the night will end in approximately ten seconds."

I laugh. "I'd think with your history you wouldn't be a minute man."

"I thought I wasn't, but I'd never been touched by you before."

This is too fun to end now, but if I want to experience all that Tommy has to offer, I need to control myself.

"Condom," I growl.

Tommy jumps out of bed and fumbles through his hamper to retrieve the wet clothes we had soaked through earlier. His clothes fly across the room like fireworks and I throw myself into the pillow and laugh. I stare up at the ceiling as clothes continue to be scattered and I take a deep breath. I honestly cant believe that I'm here and that this is going to happen. Finally, after so many years, I'm going to have someone take care of me the way that someone should. It doesn't have to be rushed, we don't have to worry about getting a wet spot on the mattress, or that the kids will cry in the middle of the night and we have to stop. He isn't a two-pump chump that only cares about pleasing himself. Tomorrow I'll head back to Angel Grove feeling ready to take on the world, but tonight… there's only us.

"I…" he fumbles some more with the clothes, "Fuck!"

I prop myself up, "What is it?"

More clothes go flying as he digs through his luggage.

He turns towards me, his lips slightly parted, "I think I lost my wallet… my… my condoms were in there…" and then realization hit him "along with my fucking cash, credit cards, and ID. I took it out of my pocket before I threw you in the fountain."

"And you forgot to pick it up when the cop showed up?" I say, piecing the event together.

"I just quickly grabbed my phone," he ran a hand through his hair and then tossed his luggage, "Fuck! Fuck!"

Well… there goes my night. "Can you call the credit card company? I know it's late but maybe they have like a 24-hour hotline or something."

"Who gives a fuck about the credit card," he looks at me like I'm insane. "The condoms!"

I cover my mouth to stifle a laugh. "That's what you're concerned about? Not that there could be someone maxing out your cards and having a very lucky night?"

"The only luck I care about is mine… and that ended approximately two minutes ago when I realized that my condoms were missing."

"You don't keep extra? I mean, you expect to hook up with people, don't you?"

He flared his nostrils, "I'm going through a cleanse, okay?"

"A cleanse?" My brows rise.

"Yeah, I was only carrying what was in my wallet in order to control myself."

"And that backfired."

His lips curl, "Evidently."

While I am disappointed things can't progress, I'm not going to let this ruin our only night. When Tommy sits on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped, posture and ego deflated, I can't help myself but smile. Damn is he cute. So everything doesn't always go his way, hmm? Wanting to cheer him up, I do the only thing that I can think of... crawl up behind him and throw my arms around his neck.

"Paging Doctor Oliver," I bite his ear, "Your shift isn't over yet."

Author note: Hey guys! Long time no see! I am currently on summer break until I return to my final semester. I'm hoping that I can use this summer to relax, but also get some unfinished stories completed. I thought that this story would be one that I could finish by the summer, but this is one that I want to explore further. I have so much fun writing this Tommy/Kimberly and there is no way that I can get it done in a few more chapters… I need A LOT! I mean, Tommy hasn't even met her kids. The story hasn't even really begun. So while maybe my other three unfinished stories might be completed by the end of summer, I don't think this one will. However, it doesn't mean that I won't be updating this one. This one has my heart and its my current favorite. So I'm hoping for an update on this soon and an update on my other stories as well. Please let me know what you think of this. This is probably one of the most fun chapters I have ever written and I really want to know what you think. See you next time.