“Thanks,” she says, still not looking at me.
“Your tits look fucking delicious,” I say, amping up the tension and causing her eyes to snap to mine.
“Excuse me?” she asks, crossing one arm over her cleavage.
“You heard me,” I say, leaning forward and narrowing my gaze. “You wouldn’t wear that dress unless you wanted me to notice them.”
The dress is black, falling softly off one shoulder. It’s simple and understated but beyond sexy—tight and short, showing off not only her sculpted ass and thighs, but her delicate shoulders and ample breasts.
Her breathing has quickened. She doesn’t deny my comment and I see her pupils dilate as I lean in even further.
“What would you do if I leaned in all the way right now, Leigh? Would you let me kiss you?” I drop my hand down and run a single finger up her leg from her ankle, stopping at her knee. “Would you let me bite this lip?” I lift my hand and run my thumb along her lip. I’m about to lean in all the way when I see her eyes dart to look over my shoulder. I glance back and see Steph and Marlaina returning to the table.
“We’ll finish this conversation later,” I whisper.
“Ladies, what are you drinking? I’ve got the next round.”
“Cosmo for me,” Marlaina says with a smile.
“Vodka soda with a twist,” Steph adds.
“Same for m—”
“Oh, just these two ladies.” I smile at Leigh, who looks at me in shock.
“Why?” she snorts, clearly offended.
“Because you’re going to buy me a beer. I think it’s the least you can do. You owe me.” I can see the confused look on Steph and Marlaina’s faces as I give Leigh my million-dollar grin she’s grown to hate so much.
“I owe you? For what? Having an attitude at the hospital? Come on, grow up.” She rolls her eyes.
“No, I’m very accustomed to your constant attitude toward me. It’s endearing, actually. I’ve grown to love it. I’m talking about breaking up my would-be marriage.”
Her face contorts from annoyance to shock to utter distaste as Marlaina and Steph both gasp. If they weren’t sitting here right now, I’m 99% positive I’d have Leigh’s handprint across my face.
3
Leigh
“Are you fucking serious right now?” I want to punch that perfect, stupid grin off his chiseled face. “You’re such a dick. You know that, right?”
Gah! Why do I let him get to me? Why do I still wonder if he would’ve finished what he started a second ago if Steph and Marlaina hadn’t walked up and interrupted us?
“One hundred percent,” he says nonchalantly as he flags down a waitress to put in the drink orders. “And I’ll have a Stella, on her tab.” He points to me and the waitress looks over.
“Yeah, it’s fine.” I wave.
“So, ladies, you look absolutely stunning again tonight. What else you have in store for the evening?
“I can’t stay out too late, I have two little girls at home and I’m sure my husband will be covered in glitter and bows before the night’s over,” Marlaina says with a smile. He cocks an eyebrow toward Steph, who glances at me nervously, unsure if she should tell him if we have other plans, which we don’t.
“Back to what you said a moment ago . . .” I start, but then our waitress reappears, placing the drinks on the table and double-checking if we need anything else. I start back up where I left off. “What did you mean by that? I didn’t ruin your would-be marriage, because the fact is you’re the one who broke things off with August. Nobody dumped you.”
“Yes, I am the one who broke things off, but not before you got to her and Remington first.” He leans back in his chair, casually tossing his ankle over his knee, his hands folded in his lap. He looks like he’s kicking back on an expensive yacht, taking in the scenery. I glance down at the exposed skin on his ankle. It’s olive, and for some stupid reason, I immediately imagine taking those pants right off his long, toned legs.
“I got to them first?”
“Yes, that’s what I said. You told Remi to follow his heart, and then he ran off to August and did just that.”
I stare at him for a second before shaking my head. “You know what? I’m not doing this. This is stupid. It’s in the past. They’re married now, so move on.” I’m trying to keep my cool, but I’m doing a shit job of it.
“Wait, I don’t actually know the full story. What happened?” Steph says, with Marlaina chiming in to agree.
“You know what?” I slam my hands down on the table. “I’m done rehashing this bullshit. I dated Remi, and he was in love with August, who was also in love with him while Grant dated her. They both finally realized it, admitted it, and got married. End of story. Stop blaming me for shit that was completely out of my control and not my business.” I stand up, pushing back so hard my chair almost falls over. “I’m going to the restroom, and you,” I thrust my finger in Grant’s face, “better be gone when I come back.”
I storm off to the bathroom on shaky legs, holding my breath and only releasing it when I’m behind the door. I lean against it, closing my eyes and hanging my head in my hands.
I don’t know why I want him. I hate that I do. He’s arrogant, entitled, and so fucking full of himself with his doctor God complex. I walk to the sink, turning the water to cool and running my hands through it. I look up, staring at myself in the mirror and absentmindedly running my thumb over my bottom lip like Grand did just moments ago. A tingle runs through me and I close my eyes again, imagining his lips pressed against mine.
This isn’t the first time I’ve allowed my mind to wander through this fantasy—to know what it would be like to be at the mercy of Dr. Grant Rossi. To have his hands caressing my naked body. To feel his warm breath against my skin. Goosebumps spread across my arms at the thought. I imagine his tongue doing small, lazy circles around my clit and I grip the edge of the sink. I glance at the door. It’s a single-stall restroom, and before I can talk some sense into myself, I walk over and turn the lock.
I turn back to the mirror, staring at myself again as I slip my hand down the front of my body, beneath my dress, and into my panties. I close my eyes, letting my head fall forward as I picture Grant standing behind me, gripping my waist tightly with his arm as his fingers part my slick folds. I imagine the filthy things he would say to me, the way his breath would puff against my curls, and how his tongue would snake out to tease my earlobe.
I feel the warmth building between my legs—traveling upward to my lower belly and then my chest. My breathing is growing rapid, with a pink blush breaking out across my neck as I grip the edge of the sink with one hand while the other brings me to the edge.
“Let go, baby,” I hear Grant say in my head. “Come on my fingers. I want to taste you.” I let out a soft cry as pleasure tears through my body. Mere seconds later, I’m ripping my hand away from my body and jerking my dress back down my thighs. I can’t even look at myself in the mirror as I wash my hands. I feel shame overtaking my body at what I just did—at the thought of how badly I want this man I’ve grown to hate to my very core.