Drawn Deeper (10 page)

“With the right man, I love it,” I said. “It’s very sexy to be on your knees in front of a man and know it’s really him on his knees.”

Kyle’s erection was like steel beneath my toes. He exhaled softly as I caressed him. I felt dizzy with the rush of making him feel this way.

“Thank you for telling me that,” I said softly. “It means a lot that you trusted me enough.”

His lips parted and he groaned. “That feels fucking amazing.”

“I could just keep doing this instead of telling you my secret,” I said playfully.

“How about both?”

“Mmm . . . okay.”

I took a deep breath and decided to dive right in. “I have three vibrators.”

He arched his brows, a light of interest dancing in his eyes.

“Three?”

“Yes. And I use them very regularly. Probably five or six nights a week.”

“Wow.”

“And . . .” I felt my cheeks warming with a blush. “I named them.”

His deep notes of laughter made desire for him swirl in my belly. “Well, let’s have it. What are they?”

I covered my eyes with my hand, then took it away. “Hickory, Dickory, and Dock.”

“Oh, hell.” He laughed and returned his hand to my foot, rubbing it against his erection.

“And obviously, my favorite is Dickory.”

That made him throw his head back and laugh hard. “Obviously.”

I felt warm and a little lighter after sharing something so intimate with him. He’d stopped laughing now, his expression serious as he pressed his big, powerful fingers into my insole to massage it.

“Meredith, it’s a crime that a woman as spectacular as you would ever have to use a vibrator.”

I shrugged. “It’s not my first choice, but I don’t have casual sex.”

He smiled. “Me either . . . obviously. I’ve only been with one woman.”

My breath left me in a whoosh I hoped he didn’t hear. Only Kim. This glorious, warm, sexy man had married his high school girlfriend and stuck by her as she spiraled out of control. It was common knowledge she’d screwed the contractor who built the addition on their house that she’d insisted on. And still, Kyle had stayed true. She’d walked out on him and their boys, and he’d picked up the pieces.

I officially had a huge crush on this man.

He eased my feet out of his lap and sat forward, putting his palms on either side of me on the seat of the hot tub. As he leaned closer, I wrapped a hand around the back of his neck.

This time, his kiss was less tentative. He brushed his tongue against mine, and I moaned into his mouth softly.

I was hot and achy all over, my body reveling in the closeness of him. When he pulled back, I missed his mouth on mine immediately.

He wrapped his hands around my waist and eased himself back onto the hot tub seat he’d been sitting on before, taking me with him and putting me on his lap so I straddled him.

“Perfect,” he said, running his fingertips down my spine.

Water dripped from the ends of his dark hair. I ran my fingers through it and tugged gently as I crushed my mouth against his.

His hold on my waist tightened, and he groaned. He matched my hunger for him, kissing me hard.

I wanted to drink in everything about this moment—burn every sensation into my memory. It was a once in a lifetime feeling of complete bliss and contentment.

He moved his lips down my neck, taking his time to kiss every inch of my skin. The scrape of his stubble over my skin made me break out in goose bumps yet again.

“I love that,” I whispered in his ear, nipping at his earlobe. “The way you kiss my neck.”
His tongue traced across a tiny ridge of my collarbone, and he pulled my hips tight against his, his erection grinding into me.

“You feel so good,” he said against my neck.

He ran his fingertips back up my spine, and then I felt him tugging at the tie of my bikini top at my neck. Slowly, he loosened it until the straps fell down my back.

“Am I moving too fast?” he whispered in my ear.

“No,” I whispered back. I sat up straight in his lap and let my bikini top fall down to my stomach.

His eyes widened as he took in my breasts. He hadn’t been kidding about not paying attention to them that day in his office—it was like he was seeing them for the first time.

After a few seconds of just staring, his eyes flickered to mine and then back down to my breasts. I loved his boyish uncertainty.

Reaching behind me, I took his hands from my hips and guided them to my breasts.

Kyle needed no further encouragement. He cupped them and pinched my nipples gently between his thumb and forefinger.

I let my head fall back so I could just soak in the sensations. Soon his warm breath on my nipple made me moan with desire.

He was deliciously slow and deliberate, tracing the tip of his tongue over my nipples until they were hard, then swirling his tongue around them again in circles.

I held on to his biceps, grinding my hips against his.

“Fuck,” he said with a groan. “You feel so good.”

I leaned forward and kissed him, my breasts pressing against his bare chest. He wrapped his arms around my back and kissed me with a fervor that felt like possessiveness.

We stroked and tasted and explored each other until pitch-black darkness had fallen. I was on the edge of an orgasm the whole time, my body wound tight with desire.

When the pool lights went out, Kyle laughed softly. “Two-hour timer.”

When I sat back on his lap, I wavered, my head spinning.

“Whoa,” he said, steadying my hips with his hands. “You okay?”

“I think . . . maybe just a little bit drunk still.”

He stood and stepped out of the hot tub, keeping one of my hands in his. Then he helped me up and supported me while I stepped out.

“Will you stay the night?” he murmured, putting his arm around my waist.

“Sure . . . but—”

“Not for sex. I want you so bad I may need to put an ice pack on my balls, but not tonight. Not when we’ve been drinking.”

“Good. Me too.” I shook my head and laughed. “I mean . . . you know what I’m saying.”

He opened a deck box and took out a towel, wrapping it around me. We both dried off and then went inside, where we shared a piece of the apple pie in the fridge and changed into dry clothes.

Kyle gave me a T-shirt from his college basketball days. It was worn thin and soft, and it just covered my ass. I was tall—not one of those women who looked like she was wearing a dress when she put a men’s shirt on.

I liked the way he looked at me in his shirt. But it was getting late, and the alcohol was making me sleepy. I’d gotten up at six to do yoga before work.

“Bed?” he asked, yawning.

“Yeah.” I laughed. “I feel old. Half a bottle of wine and two beers and I’m out.”

“Me too.”

His bedroom just had a king-size bed and a large dresser with a framed photo of the boys on it. The walls were bare.

Once we were in bed, he looked over at me in the darkness. “You like your space while you’re sleeping, or can I, you know—”

“Yes,” I said quickly. “Snuggle the hell out of me. I’d love it.”

He spooned me, his chest warm and hard against my back. When he kissed my jawline softly before laying his head down and drifting to sleep, I stayed awake, willing myself not to cry.

It had been the best night I could ever remember having. Everything about Kyle was good and right and hopeful. I hadn’t felt imperfect or wounded all night.

But he was Reed’s brother. My first love. My only love. I didn’t want that to be an issue, but it was. It had to be. Not just for me, but for him.

I was Meredith Hobbs, after all. The woman who could never outrun her reputation. At least, not in Lovely.

Kyle

The boys were still asleep when Stephanie arrived to babysit Monday morning. She looked like she’d just woken up herself, her T-shirt and sweats rumpled.

“Don’t let them play their tablets all day,” I told her. “They have to play outside for at least two hours. And can you guys walk Hagrid?”

“Sure, Dr. Lockhart.” She yawned and gave me a puzzled look. “Can I ask you a doctor question?”

“Sure.”

“Is there a prescription for really bad cramps? Like really, really bad.”

She looked so earnest that I felt for her. Poor kid. Sixteen was a rough age.

“Give your doctor’s office a call and ask them what your max dosage of ibuprofen is,” I said. “You can usually take more than it says on the bottle. But make sure you ask them for the right dosage.”

She nodded. “Okay, thanks.”

“See you this afternoon,” I said, grabbing my car keys. “Or I guess . . . tomorrow morning since you’ll leave when Meredith gets here.”

“Is she your girlfriend? She’s really pretty.”

“Ah . . . no. Just a friend. Have a good day, Stephanie.”

“Thanks.”

She curled up on the couch with her phone, and I left.

I’d had the best weekend I could remember in a while. Meredith and I had woken up slowly Saturday morning, both of us sneaking off to brush our teeth before another make out session that left me uncomfortably hard again. Then we’d made bacon and eggs together before she left.

If she’d used my toothbrush, I didn’t mind. I kind of liked the idea, actually.

I’d picked up the boys from my parents’ house and had taken them on a spur of the moment trip to St. Louis for the rest of the weekend. We’d had dinner with my youngest brother, Justin, and the four of us had gone to a Cardinals game. We’d stayed the night in the city and spent Sunday at a museum.

Before I’d insisted on changes to my work schedule, I’d been on call at least half the time on weekends. That meant no drinking and no traveling on those weekends. Now I was only on call one weekend a month, and I enjoyed the freedom to go places with my kids.

When I walked into my office and said good morning to my scheduler Marla, I felt her eyes studying me.

“How was your weekend, Dr. Lockhart?” she asked.

“Great. Took the boys to the Lou. How about you?”

“Good. I did some quilting and gardening.”

The two nurses and two nursing assistants who worked in my office wouldn’t be in until later, when I had office hours. After checking in with Marla, I went to the hospital for my scheduled surgeries.

It was almost six thirty a.m., my favorite time of the workday. I liked seeing the hospital shifting into motion. It was almost time for a shift change. I’d start my surgeries as soon as the operating room team was ready, right at seven.

I saw several familiar faces as I rounded on patients. Trace Hunt, the owner of the local hardware store, had gotten an emergency appendectomy over the weekend, and he’d insisted on seeing me when I returned.

“Where were you?” he demanded as soon as I walked into his room, his beady eyes narrowed. “I come into the hospital needin’ surgery, I expect to see Kyle Lockhart standin’ over me with a scalpel, not some out-of-town hack who don’t know shit from shinola!”

“Dr. Tenleigh works here, Trace. He’s a very good surgeon.”

“He’s not from here, though. How’m I supposed to trust some guy to cut my gut open when I ain’t never even met him before?”

I pulled back the bed sheet and pressed gently on his round belly. “Any more pain?”

He gave me a reluctant look. “No.”

I sat down in the chair next to his bed. “I read over your chart thoroughly. It was a very clean procedure. You were probably a good forty-eight hours into the appendicitis when you came in, so your appendix needed to come out before I got back.”

He grunted. “Thought it was just the worst bellyache of my life at first. Then I come in here sure I’m dyin’, and I see some stranger.”

“I’d trust Dr. Tenleigh to operate on me.”

“Guy’s an asshole.”

I couldn’t keep the hint of a smile from my face, because that was true. “You’re on the road to recovery now. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Where’s my appendix?”

I furrowed my brow. “Where is it? It was removed.”

“I want that shit in a jar to put on the counter at the store. I told Dr. What’s His Name, and he didn’t even answer me.”

“Uh . . . your appendix is long gone, Trace. It went to a medical waste disposal facility.”

“Goddammit!” He shifted with agitation in the bed and then cringed from the pain. “My insurance is gonna have to pay a shitload for this, and if I want my shriveled up appendix, I should get it.”

“It was actually inflamed, and we don’t give patients their medical waste.”

He leaned in closer and gave me a serious look. “You woulda given it to me.”

“No, I wouldn’t have.”

“You remember who sponsored your high school basketball team so you could go to that fancy tournament in Indiana that time? Hunt’s Hardware, that’s who. And this is how you repay me.” He shook his head with disgust.

“I wasn’t on call last weekend.”

“Off runnin’ around with that Hobbs girl,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Well, that Jeep of hers was in your driveway from Friday night to Saturday morning. Billy Carmichael came into the store and said so.”

I rolled my eyes. Billy Carmichael was my nosy neighbor. “Trace, do you have any questions for me about the appendectomy or your recovery?”