That Night Ten Years Ago
“Jesus. You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?” He ran a large hand from the spot right in the middle of my shoulder blades past the small of my back before landing on my ass where he squeezed hard enough to make me giggle.
“Less talking, more petting, Doctor,” I said through laughter.
“Not a doctor. Yet.” His voice was cocky, and it made me hot. “Still a ways to go before that happens.”
I could hear the smile in his voice even though I couldn’t see his face. I was lying on my stomach on top of his white plush down comforter naked as the day I was born. And not shy about it at all. He’d just laid his mouth, his tongue, his hands over every inch of this body several times and he’d seemed to enjoy every second of it.
I looked out the small window next to his bed while he was propped up on one hand beside me and using the other to rub every available surface of skin on my body he could find. It was phenomenal. I wanted to purr like a damn cat, but instead I stretched out further along his bed.
“I can’t believe you came home with me tonight,” he husked out.
I couldn’t believe it either. I wasn’t the type of girl who did one-night stands. I didn’t really have boyfriends, either. I was married to the music. Anthony Jackson wasn’t even really my type per se. I liked moody guys with tattoos and piercings. Boys with darker eyes and even darker souls. I was a walking cliché, but I liked the tortured musician types. After all, we were kindred spirits. Me and my hard, banging drums, them with their soft guitar riffs and raspy lyrical voices.
I rolled to my back and gazed up at Anthony. He waggled an eyebrow at me, and I bit my lip to hide my smile. He may not have been my type, but I was positive there wasn’t a girl out there who’d turn him down. Vivid and inquisitive green eyes stared down at me and God, I wanted him all over again.
And I’d had him plenty that night. We’d met at the club only hours ago. I was visiting my friend Ainsley in Columbia, South Carolina, and we’d run into Anthony and his college friends at a nightclub. Ainsley introduced him as an old friend. He’d come on strong. I’d come on even stronger. Hardly any alcohol in my system and yet I’d let him drag me back to his small apartment, between my legs aching with want. We’d barely made it through the door when he picked me up and placed me on the entry table and pushed his massive body between my thighs. Slick skin, hot hands, wet mouths. And the rest was history. Or maybe not.
No, Anthony Jackson wasn’t my type. He was every girl’s type.
Chiseled to perfection face.
Wide smile complete with full pink lips and deep dimples.
Square jaw that somehow managed to be both soft and hard.
Blond hair that was so thick and shiny I wanted to ask him what shampoo he used.
Not a tattoo or piercing marred the bronzed skin of his muscular body.
For fuck’s sake, even the man’s cock was pure perfection. Thick and long and cut just as beautifully as the rest of him.
He was surprised I’d come home with him. I couldn’t believe it, either. I realized in that moment, him over me. Me under him. The sweat still glistening on our bodies. His ruggedly handsome good looks beaming down at me like the sun on a bright day. For the first time in my life, I’d had a man. An actual real man. Not boys playing men. No, Anthony was all fucking masculine beauty and he’d picked me at the bar. I was one lucky girl.
I ran a finger down the middle of his chest, and when I reached his abs I felt them jump under my hand.
“Well, are you gonna feed me, Doc, or are you going to sex me to death?” I breathed out. I could feel the pink on my cheeks, but this man made me feel bold. Beautiful and wildly sexy.
Leaning over, he pressed a kiss right between my breasts and whispered against my skin, “Can’t I do both?”
“Mmmhmm.” I stretched again. “But first you have to feed me.”
And before I knew it, I was up and off the bed and being carried wedding style to the little kitchenette that sat in the corner of the apartment. Anthony sat me gently down on the counter, bare bottom and all, and I startled at the cold against my ass.
Pushing his body between my thighs, he pressed his lips to mine. “What do you want?”
“Now, that’s a loaded question,” I said, my grinning lips pressed to his. Because it was. A girl could learn to want a lot from a guy like Anthony.
He backed away and opened the compact refrigerator a few feet away, and I took in the small apartment. It wasn’t dirty or old looking, just bare, like a bachelor lived there. Just a couch and a large TV with a comfy king-sized bed pushed up against the opposite wall. The small kitchen was along the back wall. A tiny studio apartment was all a college guy like him needed.
“Eggs?” He held up a gray carton and I nodded, but I wasn’t looking at the eggs. I was looking at his beautiful and still very much naked body. I guess we were doing some birthday suit cooking. It should have felt ridiculous, him standing there, naked in the fluorescent lights of the kitchen, but it didn’t. It just felt comfortable. Easy.
He had breakfast going at 3:00 a.m. and I had a lot of questions.
I pulled an apple out of a basket on the counter and asked, “How long have you known Ainsley?”
He was stirring the eggs, but his eyes looked distant like he was lost in a memory before he answered. “I guess most of my life. We grew up together.”
I smirked. “Did you date?”
He looked back at me, surprised. “No, she’s always had a thing for Adrian. As long as I can remember, anyhow. I was never on her radar.”
“But you wanted to?” I crunched into my apple.
A bark of laughter flew past his lips. “Maybe. At one time. She was always nice to everyone. I liked that about her. But when I realized she only had eyes for Adrian, I mostly just flirted with her to piss him off.”
“Why?”
“Because I was an asshole when I was a kid.”
“And now?”
He grinned charmingly at me while stirring the eggs. “I like to think I’ve toned down the asshole.”
I nodded. “So why a doctor?”
“You sure do have a lot of questions.”
“What can I say? I’m inquisitive.” I was, too. It drove my mother nuts when I was a kid. I was always the girl with a million questions. I still was.
Spooning eggs onto two plates, his face looked serious. “I’ve always wanted to make a difference.”
God, this guy. He was perfection.
“What kind of doctor?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’m thinking the heart.”
“A heart doctor.” I nodded, thinking on it. “Yeah, I could see that.”
“Grab some forks and meet me in bed.” He winked and took off toward the bed with our plates.
With two forks in hand, I climbed into bed beside him, his naked hip pressed to mine. We sat propped against the pillows, white duvet covering our laps, the plates on the bed between our legs. I passed him his fork and we dug in.
We were sitting in relative silence when he looked over at me and asked, “Why could you see it?”
My eyebrows furrowed as I looked over at him. “See what?”
“See me as a heart doctor?”
I smiled and looked away shyly before answering. “It would take somebody brave, bold, yet tender and caring to hold someone else’s heart in their hands. Someone special.” My face flushed hot before continuing. “I think you could be that person.” I felt my lips tip up at the thought of gorgeous, blond and beautiful, God-like Dr. Jackson going around saving people’s hearts. Like some kind of superhero in a white coat giving people second chances at life.
I shrugged, playing it cool. I’d known him only a few hours and already I was smitten. “Yeah, you’d make a great doctor, granting second chances all over the place. I can already see it.”
His smile fell and the laughter slipped out of his gaze. His face was too serious when he asked, “Second chances?”
Feeling my head tilt to the side, I studied his grave face. “Yeah, Doc, I believe in second chances. Everyone deserves them. Even hearts.”
His facial expression was tight, his eyes too intense, so I looked away to the half-eaten plate of eggs in front of me.
“And what about you? Would you trust me with your heart?”
I smiled despite myself even as I blushed. I cleared my throat before answering. It was chock-full of feelings. “Yeah, I might,” I whispered.
He didn’t say anything, so I looked up, anxious and nervous. And out came his dimples in full force, almost knocking me clear off the bed with their perfect sweetness.
“You’re pretty smart for a drummer girl, you know that?”
I nudged my shoulder against his and glanced up at the starry green-eyed gaze I’d decided I’d never get enough of. “And you’re pretty cool for a smarty pants doctor.”