Dr. Hottie: Bad Boy Doctors Book 2 Page 7

  “Yes, her lover’s name is Noah, and we came on this trip to heal together after her infidelity.”

  “Oh my,” a woman in the back said.

  I shook my head dramatically. “I’d appreciate some time to speak alone with my wife, please.”

  “But the tour just started, and—”

  The tour just started? All I wanted was for it to end. And to be alone with…uh…Barb. I glared at the tour guide. I was seven inches taller and had a good thirty pounds of muscle on him.

  “I said I need some time alone with my wife,” I repeated, my voice soft yet firm.

  He shifted uneasily and stuffed his hands into his pockets. At last, he shrugged and avoided eye contact with me.

  “We can take the horses back to the stable,” Barb-Not-Barb said, grabbing the reins of the mad beast who’d dumped me.

  The tour guide shrugged. “Fine.”

  “Great, thanks.”

  He gave one sulking, defeated glance at “Barb” and got back on his horse. Soon, he and the rest of the group headed off.

  She managed to keep a straight face until the rest of the horses disappeared around the bend of the beach.

  Finally, she knelt beside me in the sand where I still sat on my bruised ass and caressed my cheek with the one hand not holding the Vicious Beast One and Vicious Beast Two’s reins. “Baby, about Noah—”

  I pulled her down and pressed her face close to mine. Our lips smashed together. She melted against my chest, our legs intertwined, and I kissed her until we were both gasping for air.

  Her hair curtained around us as she looked down at me, stunned, pressing her finger to her lips as if she couldn’t believe what just happened.

  “What’s that about Noah, now?” I asked.

  It took her a few tries to find her voice before she said, “Noah who?”

  I kissed her nose. She rolled off me and helped me sit up.

  “Maybe I should check you for injuries,” she said.

  “I didn’t know you had medical training. Married for ten years and I had no idea.”

  She tapped her toes in the sand. “Does lifeguard CPR training count?”

  “Eh.”

  “Well, one girl in my dorm slammed her head on her bed frame while having sex with this asshole named Greg, so I got her a pack of frozen peas from the freezer.”

  “Hell,” I said. “Why didn’t you say so?”

  We were both joking, but she tucked the reins under her knees and ran her gentle hands up and down my legs, surprising me with how medical her exam seemed to be. “What exactly do you do again, Barb?”

  She frowned. “Did you hit your head too, Bub? I volunteer at the local library, and the rest of the day I cook stew and every variety of pie known to man for you.”

  “Right…”

  A smile hovered on her face, but she immediately stopped checking for broken bones and dusted her sand-covered hands on her shorts. “Well,” she said, “I don’t believe I’m going to be able to cash in on that life insurance policy today.”

  She wrapped the reins around her hand, then tugged me to my feet, and the ache in my ass made me wince. At least I no longer felt the raw skin on my balls from our delightful horse ride. Another positive? I was finally alone with her without other tourists and the creepy eye of that tour guide.

  “So…should we walk back to the stable now?”

  “Who said we’re going back?” I pointed to the horses. “My lady wanted to ride horses and I’ll be damned if she ain’t going to ride horses.”

  She glanced at the horses and then back toward me. The horses, me. The horses, me. “Really?” she asked. “Even though you...”

  Even though I fucking hate it, she meant. Even though I’d rather poke needles in my eye than get back on that beast, she meant. But for her...

  “Yeah,” I said.

  I’d admired the beauty of her smile before, but the one that brightened her expression made me catch my breath. I knew we were pretending to be different people, that she didn’t want me to get to know her true self, but in that moment I glimpsed a sliver of who she truly was. A spark shimmered in her beautiful blue eyes—an appreciation. An affection, even. It didn’t feel like an act. This wasn’t a character choice for her portrayal of a library-volunteering, stew-making housewife.

  That smile was a piece of who she really was, and I held onto it like I’d gripped those reins earlier: tightly.

  “Do you want to?” I asked. And it was Noah—not Mr. Erikson, not Bub—who asked it.

  “Yes.”

  “Cool.” I stepped closer to her and said, “You know…” I murmured as I slipped my hand around her waist. “...we could make this more interesting.”

  She grinned. “I’m listening.”

  When I suggested we ride naked, I half expected her to slap me. Instead she just said, “Bub, you’re an absolute animal.”

  She gathered her things while shaking her head and clicking her tongue. I laughed and shrugged, but a certain sadness weighed me down. Those masks were back on, the act back up, the play pretend back in gear. I was Bub. She was Barb.

  “I can’t get over it,” she said as she mounted her calm white horse. “I can’t believe you suggested we ride around this beach naked for anyone to see.”

  I thought I caught a smirk on her face, but I couldn’t be sure because I was too busy struggling up into the saddle of my mean, rambunctious, wild-eyed beast. Actually, the thing stood there with its eyes half-shut like I was boring the shit out of it, but still.

  “I mean, really Bub. It’s highly likely that someone would come along the beach and see us.”

  I wiggled in my saddle, and not because of the leather chafing against my thighs.

  She mounted her horse and came up beside me. “Bub, would you really want other people to see my breasts bouncing up and down as we rode by?” she asked casually, as if she had no idea the effect she had on my dirty thoughts, on my heart rate, on my cock. “They’d stare at me. They'd want me.”

  She continued to ride next to me, close enough that I could see the gleam of sweat along her muscular, long thighs. My eyes drifted to her chest, even though I knew she’d been hoping for exactly that.

  “Bub, baby, they’d see me naked, my hips moving up and down atop this horse, and they’d fantasize about having sex with me.”

  It was what I was doing. Fantasizing.

  I could see her nipples straining against the skimpy material of her bikini. If I reached out, if I fell off my horse doing so, she’d lean over me again, wouldn’t she? And this time maybe her tits would skim my chest... I’d already known horseback riding to be massively uncomfortable, but I’d never imagined how much more painful it could be with a growing erection.

  “But then,” she continued, “they’d look over and see you.”

  Her eyes were focused on mine like a whole ocean to stare at, a whole wide open blue sky to study, a whole jungle, wild and lush, to explore didn’t lie before us.

  “They’d see you, and they’d know immediately that all their dreams had been shattered, all their fantasies destroyed, all their wildest desires stomped and crushed in the sand.”

  I waited for her to continue, leaning closer to her even though I risked falling out of the saddle.

  “Because they’d see you, and they’d know I was yours.”

  For several seconds we held each other’s gazes, and that connection between us grew again. A real connection.

  But then she nudged her heels into her horse’s flank, and I was left behind as her horse cantered a few strides. Blast that girl—she knew I couldn’t keep up with her.

  Finally, she tugged her horse back to a walk, flipped her braid over her shoulder, and looked back at me. “So really, Bub, I can’t believe you even suggested that your wife ride around naked on a public beach.” She turned back around, then reached behind her to tug at the string holding her bikini top together. It fell, and she flung the skimpy thing over her shoulder. It landed in the
white sand and she continued to ride on.

  I looked longingly at her bikini as my horse walked past. I cursed the day I declined my parents offer for horseback riding lessons. Because now I was forced to ride behind my exceedingly frustrating wife as she galloped away, her bare breasts bouncing gloriously in the sun. At least, I figured they were bouncing gloriously—all I saw was her ass, which granted, was no small consolation prize.

  Tomorrow, I told myself. Tomorrow there would be no fanny packs. No horses.

  Tomorrow we’d play out one of my fantasies, and I knew exactly who we were going to be.

  Chapter 8

  Raegan

  * * *

  When I woke up, Noah was propped on one elbow staring down at me. Instantly, memories of our horse ride on the beach swamped me—we’d managed to catch up to the tour group in no time, and to Noah’s combined relief and disappointment, I’d had an extra T-shirt in the fanny pack. But he hadn’t been disappointed when we got back to his hotel suite, and images of the passionate ride we gave each other in this very bed after we came back swarmed my mind. To say Noah was a better lover than he was horse rider was an understatement. By the time he was done proving exactly how demanding a lover “Bub” was, I was a sweaty, limp mess barely able to catch my breath.

  “Good morning,” he murmured.

  “Good morning,” I whispered back.

  He leaned in and gave me a slow kiss that instantly had my pulse pounding.

  More. I wanted more of him—more than three days in paradise could ever satisfy. This thought troubled me, however, and I instantly drew away from him, blinking in the dim light and stretching my arms over my head.

  “Stay like that.”

  The bed shook as Noah quickly jumped to his feet and grabbed something from the dresser. Quickly, he lifted an expensive-looking camera, and gave me a look.

  “Digital?” I asked. “Can we delete all the photos after we’re done?”

  “Absolutely. What happens in this suite stays in this suite.”

  I gave him a lazy smile. “In that case, click away.”

  He raised the camera to his face and clicked a succession of several photos. I arched my back to stretch, giving him a tantalizing view of my naked body half-covered by the sheets.

  He lowered the camera to his chin. His eyes, seductive and hungry and more lustful than I’d ever seen them, almost stroked my face. It sent a thrill through me.

  I stayed still, loosely holding the bed frame behind me as he moved around the room. His camera clicked even as the fingers of his other hand lingered just above my skin, but never touched. I watched him, memorizing every inch of his naked body, and I was sure he was doing the same with me.

  I didn’t have a picture like the ones he took. But after we parted ways, in the days, months, and years to come, I knew I’d close my eyes and see this moment: him naked, taking pictures of me naked.

  As he continued to move lazily around me, I finally gave in and asked, “Who are we today?”

  He grinned and pulled down the silk sheet, just low enough so that the curve of my hip was visible. “We’re world-famous photographers for National Geographic,” he explained. “Right now, we’re traveling around the world to document the planet’s most beautiful waterfalls. There’s one up a mountain that locals say is unrivaled.”

  He raised the camera to his eye. I stared into the lens as he clicked. He looked at the small screen and then pulled the blinds back from the floor-to-ceiling windows to let even more morning light fall across my bare chest. He checked the lens, adjusting it a few clicks, and then the camera clicked again.

  “I didn’t know National Geographic photographers shot bedroom nudes.” My voice was thick, less from sleep and more from how turned Noah’s studious, admiring gaze made me.

  “A fair point I suppose.” He ghosted his fingers over the swell of my breast, and all I wanted to do was arch up towards his touch. “Touch yourself.”

  Keeping one hand wrapped around the bed frame, I walked the fingers of my other hand down my chest and under the sheets. The whole time, Noah’s camera clicked enthusiastically. I slipped my finger into my vagina and dragged the wetness to my clit. My eyes fluttered closed under my own touch. The camera continued to click, click, click.

  “We’re forbidden lovers,” Noah said.

  “Hmm?”

  Through half-open eyes, I saw him lick his lips. He grabbed the sheet to pull it down even further, exposing the top of my hand as I pleasured myself.

  “It was on our first assignment,” he whispered.

  I sighed when he laid his hand on my thigh and rubbed his thumb along my hipbone. He took a picture of his hand on me, making me moan. He was claiming me. In that moment, as my finger moved in quicker and quicker circles over my clit, I wanted to be claimed.

  “We’d never met, but we were both assigned to shoot a dormant volcano in Iceland. Just the two of us. Alone in a remote, wild landscape with just the wind and endless sky.”

  My nipples hardened and I bit my lip, forcing myself not to move my hand from the bed frame to pinch them. It was torture, like a brand. Noah’s hand skimmed across my stomach until he brushed his finger against my wrist. Goosebumps erupted along my forearm as I grew closer to climax.

  “What happened next?” I whispered as he again raised the camera to his eye.

  “At first, we tried to fight it.” He was trying to keep his voice steady. “We were colleagues and it would be unprofessional. Despite how clear it was that we wanted each other, if anyone found out we’d be fired.”

  His hand moved next to my inner thigh, slipping the sheet down even further to expose me fully to the lens of his camera. I groaned. Heat pooled between my legs. I could feel how wet I was and how close I was, and I just wanted Noah to keep talking. Lost in my haze of pleasure, his words were like my lifeline.

  “We tried,” he said softly, “to keep our hands off each other. We really tried. But when we were alone inside the volcano, entirely by ourselves, we couldn’t avoid the temptation any longer.”

  My breath was coming in little gasps. Noah must have known I was close because his fingers dug into the soft flesh of my thigh. I imagined what the photo must look like with the indentations of his fingers on my skin.

  “Inside that volcano, the cold was savage. But we needed our naked skin against one another, so I stripped you and laid you down on our clothes.”

  “Yes,” I mouthed, so aroused I was unsure if the words fell from my lips. “Oh, yes.”

  I hoped his camera caught the flush of my cheeks, the hard peaks of my nipples, the sheen across my chest. All for him. All for his intoxicating words in the hazy morning light.

  “We couldn’t look away from one another as I entered you for the first time on that freezing stone. I fucked you under the dawn light, high above us in the volcano entrance. We came together. In that moment, we both knew all we wanted to do with the rest of our lives was find every hidden beauty in the world and fuck.”

  I was there. Every inch of me tensed, ready for the ultimate explosion. But I forced myself to wait.

  “What’s your name?” I breathed into the space between me and his camera lens.

  The moment he took to think about his answer seemed like an eternity. All I wanted to do was let go for him.

  “Phillip,” he said.

  I opened my eyes to stare into his. Then, pressing down on my clit one final time, I came with his name on my lips. “Phillip.” Even in my pleasure-soaked haze, however, the name didn’t feel right. I wanted to say Noah. I wanted to scream it so badly that I bit my lip hard, tasting blood.

  He held the camera still as he rubbed his hand up and down my thigh through my orgasm. Finally, my eyes closed and I sagged back against the sheets, blissfully spent and drained.

  His voice was like a lighthouse in the fog. “Open your eyes.” When I did, he smiled and grazed the back of his hand against my cheek, then gently touched my bruised lip. Again, he raised the camera
. He clicked and looked at the picture in the screen. Then he leaned over and kissed me gently. “Perfection,” he whispered against my lips.

  An hour later, we were holding hands as we climbed the challenging trail to the waterfall. Since most of the tourists came to drink on the beach, not hike up a 45-degree incline, the path was abandoned except for us.

  “I guess that’s why we have separate rooms,” I said.

  Noah held a branch aloft for me to duck under, the camera swinging around his neck. “What’s that, lovely?”

  Lovely. Dearest. Perfection. He’d been calling me endearments all morning, as if I were the only woman in the world.

  “We have to keep up the charade for National Geographic,” I explained. “They’d catch on if we suddenly decided to share a room.”

  He chuckled, lifting our clasped hands to kiss my knuckles. “In hotels all around the world, the maids marvel at how neat and tidy you are. It looks like no one even enters your room.”

  I grinned. “Because no one does.”

  He helped me up over a large rock in the middle of the path, and we continued together, hand in hand, shoulders brushing, smiling at one another every few steps.

  For a second, my inner voice warned me I was losing track of what was real and what was play pretend. Even worse, I was caring less and less about the blurring of that tricky line.

  But Noah’s scent mixed so perfectly with the scent of the jungle. His hand fit so perfectly in mine, too. And the way he smiled at me made me so perfectly happy I pushed the voice down deeper and further away.

  We came to a fork in the path and paused. Noah checked the battered, old signs written in Spanish. Then he tugged my hand and I followed him to the right.

  “Where else have we gone?” I asked. “Remind me again of all the different places we’ve been together, love.”

  “Well, of course we’ve been to Croatia. The coastline is filled with the most beautiful waterfalls. We spent three months there alone, backpacking from town to town.”