Filthy Doctor(26)

And now that she was an attractive young woman – a young lady of legal age, intent on getting me into bed – there was a big part of me that didn't trust myself around her. I was, after all, a newly divorced, warm-blooded man with needs and desires. And she was a curvy, attractive young woman who was literally throwing herself at me. I would be lying if I said there hadn't been a fantasy or two floating around my mind about bending her over my desk and fucking her good and hard. I'd be lying if I said that there hadn't been a time or two I hadn't jerked off thinking about having those big, beautiful eyes looking up at me as those soft lips were wrapped around my cock.

Which was why it was better to keep my distance, lest I do something stupid. Something that I'd regret. And something that would most assuredly, impact my relationship with Dave.

I didn't hear her at first as I was busy peering down the steps, hoping Dave and Miranda had come home, but I turned when I heard Sabrina's soft footsteps on the floor behind me. She moved like a cat, that one. I hadn't heard her step out of her room. Dammit.

“Dad just called,” she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “Said they're almost home now. Should be here any moment.”

“Thanks, Sabrina,” I said.

My eyes fell upon her lips, which were a soft pink and oh so plump and felt the familiar stirrings below my belt. The last thing I wanted was to get hard standing in front of her. She had her mother's perfect cupid's bow pout. She could have easily followed in her mother's footsteps and tried her hand at modeling. But instead, she'd gone to college and had gotten her degree. Wanted to do something different and something with a little more substance with her life, she'd once said. Smart girl, that one.

She was curvier than the last time I'd seen her – which only added to her appeal. She'd never been a stick thin girl, but she'd always been blessed with a womanly body. And now that she was older, it was even more pronounced and more – alluring.

I cleared my throat and tried to focus on something else. The last time I'd seen her – yes, when had that been? Christmas, almost a year ago? But I couldn't keep my mind from straying and cataloging the changes I could see in her. Her hips were fuller, her breasts were larger – and yes, I mentally kicked myself for thinking of my best friend's daughter's breasts. But how could I stop it? I was a man – she was a gorgeous woman.

I tried to tear my focus away again, think of something else, but it was too late and I felt a bulge growing in my slacks. As soon as I realized I was looking and felt myself getting stiffer because of it, I tore my gaze away, turned, and walked down the stairs. Sabrina, of course, fell into step beside me. It was almost as if she knew she was having this effect on me and was enjoying herself. Enjoying teasing me, flirting with me – enjoying the fact that I was quite obviously noticing the beautiful woman she'd grown into.

“How's work these days? Dad said you recently expanded into France?” she said, her tone light and conversational.

“Uhh, yes. We have a few hotels over there now too – mostly in Paris for now, but we're looking at other sites around the country.”

“That's fantastic,” she said. “Have you ever considered expanding into the Asian markets? My understanding is that they are very easy to work with and actually provide incentives for Western companies to set up shop over there.”

“It's something we're considering, actually,” I said. “But we're leary of expanding too fast. We want to be deliberate and smart about it.”

She nodded as if she understood. Perhaps she did. “That's probably a good idea,” she said. “Make sure the brand takes hold before growing it too much.”

It was surprising to have such a grown up conversation with her – which again, reminded me that she wasn't a child anymore. She was a woman. A very smart woman.

“I'd love to visit Paris again someday soon,” she said. “I haven't gone since our family trip a few years ago. I think I was too young to fully appreciate it back then, but now that I'm an adult, I really need to see it for myself. Really need to immerse myself in the culture and absorb it all, don't you think?”

We'd reached the bottom of the stairs by that point, and as we stood in the foyer, I heard her parents at the door. I breathed a sigh of relief and looked for anything to hide the bulge in my pants – the last thing I wanted was for Dave or Miranda to see me standing next to their daughter with a raging hard on. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Sabrina looking and a smirk painted upon her face. She'd noticed. God dammit, she noticed.

Hopefully her parents didn't. I would have to deal with the fact that Sabrina knew she'd given me a hard on later. Hopefully, it would be one of those things that was just never talked about and allowed to die.

“We don't need a new painting in the dining room, Miranda,” Dave said, arguing with his wife as they stepped inside. “The one we have is just fine. Besides, if we got the painting, you'd want to remodel again and – ”

“What's wrong with that?” Miranda pouted. “Don't you think it's about time to freshen things up a little bit? I read somewhere that rearranging and remodeling your home every now and then helps stave off boredom and even Alzheimer's.”

Dave rolled his eyes. “Oh, dear God,” he moaned.

Their eyes fell on me as they stepped inside, and Miranda looked exceptionally pleased with my presence. Her smile was wide and genuine.

“Here, let's ask your friend,” she beamed. “Julian, do you think it's too soon to redecorate the dining room?”

“Uhh, what's it been? Two years?” I asked.

“Three,” she said.

I looked at Dave, then back at Miranda.

“Come on, you're remodeling your entire house,” she said. “Surely you're on my side on this?”

“I'm not on anybody's side here, Miranda,” I said with a laugh, stroking my chin. “I don't see a reason to meddle in your relationship. Or your redecorating plans.”

“It's not meddling if you agree with me,” she said with a wink.

Staring at Miranda Evans-Prescott, I was struck again by the fact that her daughter was a spitting image of her – except about twenty years younger. Miranda was at one time a high fashion model. She often used to grace the runways of Milan and other fashion hotspots across Europe. But then David Prescott, CEO of his own software company – empire, really – managed to sweep her off her feet. Not long after that, she had given up modeling and pursued other artistic endeavors. Apparently, her latest passion was for home décor and remodeling.

Miranda’s long, dark hair was currently pulled back in a high, tight bun on her head, and she was wearing bright red lipstick that showed off that perfect pout. The same pout her daughter inherited.

And there I was – thinking about Sabrina again.

Dave and Miranda were now walking away from me, still playfully bickering about the painting and redecorating the dining room, leaving Sabrina and I alone in the foyer. Sabrina was grinning at me and shaking her head. My eyes fell from her eyes down to her cleavage, which was peeking out from her low-cut dress.

“Those two,” she said, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Huh?” I said, totally getting lost in the sight before me and forgetting about anything else.

Sabrina pointed toward the living room, where her parents had retreated. I mentally slapped myself. I couldn't be thinking about Sabrina like that. Especially not with Dave and Miranda in the house. Not ever, really. I had to stop it. Had to get my mind off of Sabrina and what a knockout she'd become. It wasn't just inappropriate, it was – wrong. Wrong on so many levels, in so many ways.

“Oh yeah,” I said, feigning a laugh as I scratched my head, doing everything in my power not to look at Sabrina. “We know your dad will give in. He can never say no to your mother. I think that's why she stays with him.”

“Of course,” she laughed while winking at me. “We Prescott women always get what we want. Eventually.”

With that little quip, she retreated, following her parents, swishing her hips as she walked – quite a bit more than necessary. But it was a glorious sight, I had to admit. She knew I was watching and she put on a show for me.

I was doomed.



Chapter Three

SABRINA



That night, I heard Julian moving around after everyone else had gone to bed. Well, everybody but me. I was awake, lying in bed, touching myself and thinking about the first time Julian and I would make love. It was a foregone conclusion in my mind. When I heard his bedroom door open, I held my breath and waited, hoping he'd come to my room for a quiet midnight tryst.

But I exhaled and felt disappointed as his footsteps retreated and went downstairs instead.

I was wearing nothing but a tiny little nightgown that clung to my curves. It covered just enough to not get me in trouble with my parents if they saw me walking around in it – but it barely covered the necessary bits. It fit more like a t-shirt than a standalone nightgown. I thought I looked hot in it.

And it was all the better for what I was about to do, too.

I was feeling a bit emboldened. After seeing Julian standing there with a very obvious hard on, looking every bit the awkward teenager, I was feeling powerful. I was feeling in control. I knew that I needed to take the bull by the horns if I was going to get the satisfaction I wanted.