My Bad Boy Doctor

8

Blake pulls into my driveway, and as I reach for the door, his hand closes over my wrist. I turn to face him as his hand slides back into mine. Heat that has nothing to do with the summer spreads through my body, and my heart skips a beat inside my chest.

He looks nervous; his gaze is focused downward, and he's running his bottom lip through his teeth, chewing on it like he wants to say something, but can't.

So I release the door handle and wait, fascinated by the slight tinge in his cheeks. "Bad boys aren't supposed to be nervous," I blurt out.

Blake snorts, watching me with a twinkle in his eye. "You're obsessed with bad boys, aren't you?"

I shrug. "I've seen my fair share of them, but a true bad boy isn't an asshole. They're confident without arrogance and don't treat their partners like shit, but I haven't seen one of these guys in any recent books or movies."

Scratching his beard, Blake looks thoughtful before saying, "Hm...I guess you could say Greasers in the 60s were bad boys. They didn't quite fit societal norms, and they were fun to watch in Grease with my cousin."

I can't help but laugh. I haven't seen Grease since I was a kid, and I never liked that Sandy and Johnny both tried to change who they were to be together. Then again, the Outsiders also comes to mind. They were edgy, sometimes breaking the law, but they were good guys from the wrong part of town. Blake doesn't seem to fit that criteria at all.

"You ever break the law?" It's totally inappropriate and not my business, but it's too late to take it back now.

"What makes you say that?" he asks, scratching the back of his neck.

I smirk at his obvious tell. "Well, the guys in the Outsiders did. You have tattoos, you're confident, you pose with motorcycles... Guess that makes you a bad boy."

He brings my hand up to his mouth and kisses the inside of my wrist. My heart skips well past a hundred beats a minute as tingles zing through my arm and shivers rock my body. The way he does it is slow and sensual—if he doesn't stop, I'll orgasm right here in the front seat of his car. And if that isn't enough, he cups the back of my neck with his hand and pulls me forward, pressing his lips against mine.

My mouth parts in a gasp, inviting him to explore my lips with his tongue before biting my lower lip. I feel as though my body was set on fire as every part of me goes into overdrive. He tastes like beer and...what's the word I'm looking for...I can't think of anything except for how soft his lips are or how much I want to kiss him back, so I do.

Our noses touch and I tentatively deepen the kiss, meeting his tongue with mine. Before I know it, he's shifting his seat back and pulling me onto his lap while he plants his hands on my hips. It's so hot and erotic, and I know he's turned on because I can feel him hardening beneath me.

I'm so shy—I've never made a move on anyone, but he makes me feel desirable, and I'm emboldened enough to thread my fingers through his soft hair and pull. He groans, shifting beneath me as a warm hand slips beneath my shirt. Then his teeth are suddenly against my ear as he slowly trails his lips down my neck and ends on my collarbone.

We're not even having sex, and a strong orgasm is already building at the base of my spine, sending hot currents of electricity to my breasts. Every muscle is pulsing with anticipation.

"Blake," I gasp. "I'm... I'm... oh, my God, I'm going to come right now if you don't stop."

When he pulls away, he has an almost sheepish expression, but his eyes are telling a different story. They're dazed and full of the same fire threatening to melt me into a puddle. His breathing is shallow, and his cheeks are red—he looks every bit as shocked as I feel. He also looks at me like a predator ready to devour me at any moment. "I... Would that be so bad if you did?"