Even the women at the few conferences I attended throughout the year were snobby, intellectual, elitist gold diggers. Okay, maybe not all of them. But that’s the vibe they put off to me anyway. I wasn’t the typical doctor type. I was more comfortable in a pair of worn jeans than I was in chinos on the golf course. I couldn’t hobnob with these people as was expected, so finding someone to tag along and wallow in the torture with me sounded like as good a plan as any.
Where could we meet? I didn’t want to bring her to my place, did I? What if this all blew up in my face and I had a stalker on my hands? I couldn’t risk her knowing where to find me.
Coffee shop on 7th in an hour?
I hit send before I could second-guess myself.
To hell with playing by the rules. I’d done that my whole life, and the only thing it’d gotten me was a great job and a big house. Sometimes I wanted someone to share it with. Every now and then the feeling of loneliness set in, but it was always extremely short-lived. This girl, however, she piqued my interest.
An alert chimed, and I glanced at my phone. Her reply simply read:
OK.
I swiped a hand over my face, feeling a little astounded I’d done this at all, before heading into the bathroom to jump in the shower and clean up.
I had a date…sort of…in an hour.
I flipped on the water, waiting as warmth and steam filled the bathroom.
What in the hell had I just gotten myself into?
Forty-five minutes later, I was waiting patiently at the quiet coffee shop around the corner from the hospital, the one I visited every day for my quad-shot dark-roast coffee. Dumbass idea number one, because if she was a stalker, she could find me right here at half past six every morning.
I looked up just as the front door swung open, and the same girl who’d popped up on my phone earlier entered the coffeehouse. And though it seemed impossible, she was even more beautiful than in her picture. The way her eyes rounded wide, luscious locks of waves curling around one shoulder, the soft slope of her cheekbones. Everything about her was complete perfection.
This girl was it.
Complete fucking perfection.
I would have been content to sit there and stare from across the room, but then I thought that would make me the stalker. So instead, I shot to my feet and crossed to her.
“Lookin’ for someone?” I hovered over her shoulder.
She whirled around, eyes wide as they burned up and down my body then landed on my face. “No. Yes. Um…”
“I’ve got a feelin’ I’m him.”
Her eyes popped open, lips parting softly before her gaze averted and she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She was embarrassed. She was so fucking sweet. Christ, I wanted to ruin her already.
“As you can guess, I’m Thorn.” I placed a hand at the dip of her back. “Nice to meet you, Carly. Have a seat.”
“Ah, well…okay,” she stammered, allowing me to guide her to the table I’d been at. Jesus, I loved my hands on her. And what the hell was that feeling deep in my gut every time I looked at her? Like a punch to my stomach. Like someone lighting a match to my balls.
“Nice to meet you too, Thorn.”
I pulled the chair out for her, and she sat. I sat across from her, the table for two suddenly feeling impossibly smaller than it had just a minute ago. She was so close, her hand draped across the edge, dainty little fingertips and creamy skin…
“I feel like I should tell you,” she started, eyes holding mine for a beat, “I’ve never done this before.” She shifted in her seat. “This isn’t really normal for me.”
“So why did you do it, then?”
She opened her mouth, pausing as if at a loss for words. “Why does anyone do it?”
“There are a lot of reasons, I guess.”
“Well, I did it for the most obvious one.”
“Sex?” I prodded.
She didn’t answer; only a blush crept up her chest and neck. A blush I wanted to follow with my tongue. My original intention hadn’t been sex at all—it’d only been for a friendly date to that stupid doctors’ ball. But now here I was, sitting across from the most stunning woman I’d ever seen, and she was telling me she was here for sex?
Holy fucking shit.
“Why are you here?” She found her voice, her chin up. So, she had a strong stubborn streak, even more interesting.
My cock throbbed in my pants, the slow ache in my balls turning into a flaming fucking inferno.
How long had it been since I’d gotten laid? I couldn’t even recall.
Too fucking long.
Way too fucking long.
I shifted in my seat, instantly regretting this line of conversation if the pressure building behind my zipper had anything to say about it.