The Procedure (14 page)

“I want…” I panted.

I wanted him. On me. In me. All around me. I needed him.

He worked his fingers in and out, circling my clit and drawing me into a frenzy.

“You’re so small here,” he said, pressing his fingers in deeper. “When’s the last time?” he asked.

I knew what he was asking, but my brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders. Opening my eyes, I looked up into his. “A year,” I squeaked.

It was the answer he wanted. I could tell by the look of triumph on his face.

“When’s the last time you came, love?” he asked.

His thick accent dripped with need as he continuously plunged his fingers deep into me over and over again. When he picked up his pace, the sounds of my wet body filled the room—louder than our breaths.

“So long…” I panted.

Was that really me? The woman who sounded seductive and full of need couldn’t possibly be me, but it was. Roman brought her out of me and was holding her on a tight leash with his two long fingers.

Reaching out, I pulled at the strings holding his scrubs up. I no longer cared about what was right or wrong. I wanted to feel him deep inside of me. I wanted to explode all around him the way I never had with Michael.

He stopped me with his other hand and made a ticking noise with this tongue. “No, beautiful. Let me pleasure you.”

He pressed his forehead to mine, his lips brushing mine occasionally as he continued to twirl my clit with his thumb and penetrate me with his fingers.

His breath rushed against my lips and mine on his until I felt myself unraveling inside of my stomach.

“So close,” I panted. “Please, Roman. So close.”

He kissed me again and then responded, “Come on, love. I’ll catch you.”

His words sent me over the edge. I cried out, and he quickly covered my mouth with his. I came hard and long, my body shaking against his as I moaned my release into his mouth.

He continued his sweet torture until I was sure I couldn’t take anymore before he pulled his fingers from me. Cold air rushed in, filling me and making me shiver. My stomach ached from holding myself in that strange upright position, so I let go and collapsed with my back onto the bed.

I breathed deeply, trying to catch my breath, and felt the loss of him when he stepped away from me and went to the other side of the room for a box of tissues.

When he held them out to me, I looked up to find his expression full of guilt. Reaching out, I plucked a few tissues from the box. Sitting up, I looked at him and saw a mix of emotions move over his face. He was regretting me, and I wasn’t sure I could handle being anyone else’s regret.

“FORGIVE ME,” I
said out loud on a deep exhale.

I was asking forgiveness from her and in general, for what I’d done. It was wrong. So bloody wrong, but she felt so amazing and smelled so sweet. Even afterward, the way her big, dark eyes were staring up at me, I wanted to push her back down and lose myself inside of her. But I couldn’t. I’d already let it go too far, and I knew that I had to quit seeing her.

I was jeopardizing everything I’d worked so hard for. Samantha was a married woman. Unhappily married, but still married. I’d never been one to step on anyone’s toes, and there I was with my hand up her skirt and her sweet, honeyed juices on my fingertips.

I didn’t even wait for her to say anything. Instead, I shoved my arms back in my coat and left the room. When I made it to my office, I shut the door behind me and leaned against it. Taking in big gulps of air, I breathed deep. I was still sporting a raging hard-on for Samantha, and no matter how hard I tried to take my mind off her, she was everywhere.

The quiet, shy woman was gone in an instant and in her stead was a seductress. She moaned and moved against my hand like her life depended on it. I’d never get her face out of my mind. The way she looked when she came apart in my hands. Her mouth open in ecstasy and her eyes closed as if the sweet torture was too much for her.

TWO DAYS LATER
, and I still couldn’t get Samantha off my mind. I’d spend my days at work, seeing patients and doing surgeries, and then I’d go home and take a hot shower with her on my mind and my cock in my hand.

But worse than that, I was starting to get jealous. Just thinking about her going home to Michael would make me crazy. Thinking of her sleeping with him would put me in a rage that I hadn’t felt since I was a young boy. He wasn’t good enough for her, but then again, neither was I. I was a wretch who put his hands all over another man’s wife.

“So how are we feeling today, Miss Tori?” I asked as I reached out and ruffled her dark hair.

She smiled up at me, gauze hiding half of her face.

“Today’s been a good day,” her mother said, exhausted.

It wasn’t fair. Such a young soul going through so much. It hurt every time I visited her, but I couldn’t help myself. She reminded me so much of my little sister. It was one of the main reasons I’d agreed to do her surgeries, even knowing the risk that came with them.

My sister, Rachel, was in an accident when she was four. My mother had a hot teapot on the stove, and my sister pulled it over on herself. The right side of her face was burned pretty badly, and she was left with a terrible amount of scars.

She grew up just like any other kid, but once she got up in age, the kids became cruel. I could remember her begging our father to take her to a plastic surgeon. We had the money to have any surgeries she might have needed, but Father simply said it was unneeded.

It was needed.

Rachel wanted to look like everyone else. She used to cry about how mean the kids were and the things they’d say. Until finally, when she was seventeen, she couldn’t take it anymore. Finding your baby sister dead on her bedroom floor wasn’t something you ever got over.

I decided then that when I was done with school, I’d go to university for plastic surgery. I swore that I’d always help those in need.

Samantha Aldridge wasn’t in need—she was beyond perfect, but she wanted. She wanted her husband to look at her the way he looked at other women. She wanted to be someone she wasn’t, and I couldn’t, no matter how much she had begged, even think about the possibility of changing her.

After doing surgery, and visiting Tori afterward, I washed up and went back to my office.

STEIN CONVINCED ME
to attend another gala, and I grudgingly went. Charity benefits and things of that nature I was totally fine with attending, but going somewhere to watch rich people try to outdo each other in groups was always such a bore.

Sitting at the bar, I ordered another drink and smiled at the bartender. She was a nice lady, and I could tell she didn’t want to be there anymore than I did.

“Thank you, love,” I said, taking a sip from my glass and watching the light blush run up her cheeks.

Turning to face the crowd, my eyes landed on Michael Aldridge. He was in his usual spot among the masses, making a group laugh at whatever he was saying. A young brunette moved up beside him, and I watched as he whispered something sweetly in her ear. She licked her lips and smiled before stepping away.

The bloody bastard.

I wasn’t sure if it was the drinks or everything from the last few weeks pushing against my back, but I moved in his direction. He turned to face me when I moved up next to him, and his eyes sized me up.

“Can I speak with you for a minute, Michael?” I asked politely.

Distrust moved over his eyes before he turned back to his audience, grabbed his drink, and stepped away.

We moved to the bar, where he silently ordered another drink with a flick of his finger.

“What can I do for you, Blake?” he asked, aggravation thick in his voice.

“Well, you can start by keeping your hands off Samantha,” I said sternly. I took a swallow from my drink, my eyes staying on his above the glass. Red marked his cheeks, and his brows pulled down.

“Excuse me?” he asked innocently.

“Don’t play stupid with me. I ran into Samantha the other day, and I saw the bruise on her arm. The funny thing is that it looked remarkably like a man’s fingerprints.”

He adjusted his tie and took a big gulp from his drink. Before he could say anything, I continued. “It’s no secret the kind of life you lead, Michael. Different women without regard for your wife. Your admirers over there look up to you, but we real men know the truth.”

“And what truth is that?” he asked.

“You’re a piece of shit who isn’t good enough to kiss your wife’s toes, much less her lips. However, your relationship with you wife is none of my business.”

“You’re right. It’s not,” he responded.

The fact that he hadn’t denied my accusations about Samantha’s bruises didn’t go unnoticed.

“Do what you will with your little whores, but make sure you keep your hands off her. Got it?”

I didn’t wait for him to respond. Instead, I stepped away from the bar and made my way across the room to Stein and a group of my colleagues. I felt her eyes on me from where I stood, but I kept my eyes fixed on Stein as he spoke of his latest patient and her procedures.

Even though I tried to keep my eyes to myself, they instinctively roamed across the crowd looking for Samantha. And then I saw her. She was moving across the room toward the alcove that housed the bathrooms. Her dress was low, showing off her elegant back. Squeezing my fist, I closed my eyes and imagined kissing my way down her back and slowly undressing her. I had yet to see her completely naked, but I could only imagine how glorious she looked.

Setting down my drink, I left the group and made my way across the room just as she disappeared around the corner. Already, my knickers were feeling tight. Just thinking about being near her was getting me hard. She had woven some strange spell over me. It was the only way I could describe how she made me feel.

Stepping around the corner, I found her standing there, waiting. Her skin glowed under the overhead lighting. Without a second thought, I reached for her without care of who would see.

I DIDN’T REALLY
have to use the bathroom, but I couldn’t sit there anymore and watch Roman. Not when everything inside of me begged to be near him. I’d even turned my head without care when Michael was openly flirting as usual. The fact was that I didn’t care what he was doing anymore.

Leaving the stifling space and being away from where I could see Roman, I felt as if I could breathe better.

I pulled on the bathroom door, only to find it locked. So I stood there and waited. That was when I felt the familiar touch of Roman’s fingers across my back. He worked them up my arm slowly, goose bumps following his fingers like a wave in the ocean. Closing my eyes, I took the moment in… relishing in the touch of another human being.

When he reached my shoulder, he cupped it with his warm palm before softly massaging. His other hand followed on my other shoulder, his hot breath tickling the back of my neck.

“Samantha.” My name rushed past my ear.

At first, I couldn’t respond, but once I was able to make my vocal chords move, the only sound that came out was, “Hmmm.”

“You should tell me to stop,” he said.

The thought of him stopping was unbearable. My body begged for his touch—my center was molten lava and ready to erupt. I hadn’t felt so connected to another person in so many years, and I wasn’t ready to let that feeling go.

“No.” My voice was stern.

“No? Why not?” he asked.

Using his own words against him, I said, “Because I deserve this.”

A soft chuckle lifted the hairs on the back of my neck, making me shiver.

“Is that so?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, in that case, what else do you deserve?”

Turning in his arms, I crushed myself to him. He leaned down at that exact moment to press his lips to mine. His tongue swept across mine, filling my mouth with his taste and the drinks he’d had at the bar. Instantly, I felt drunk on him.

He moved me against the wall as he slowly began lifting my long dress. Anyone could have walked into the alcove at any time. Not to mention there was a lady in the bathroom who could have stepped out, as well. Everyone knew I was Michael’s wife, and they also knew that Roman wasn’t Michael.

Pushing against him, I looked around the alcove for a place for us to go. Spotting a third door, I pulled him with me.

“In here,” I said, pushing the door open and pulling him into a second celebration space.

The door slammed loudly behind us. Roman shoved his hands into my hair, pins flying, like a man possessed as he began to kiss me again.

“I can’t…” he started with heavy breaths. “I can’t get enough of you.”

Again, he began moving my dress up until the hem was resting just below my hips. With the dress out of the way, I was able to wrap a leg around his hip. He took the opportunity to press himself into me, making me break the kiss to release a sigh of pleasure.

He shifted, lifting me like I weighed nothing, onto a cloth-covered table. The unused table wear jingled loudly. Reaching down between us, I went to work on his button and zipper. I wanted him. No, I needed him. When I pushed down his pants and boxers, he sprang free into my hand, warming my palm with his hardness.

He threw his head back on a hiss before planting hard kisses down the side of my neck. I moved my hand over him, his breath shaky against my neck.

“Samantha,” he whispered. “Don’t stop, love.”

I hadn’t planned on it, but I was sick to death with being teased. I was very married, and I knew it was so wrong, but I wanted him. I needed to feel him inside of me. A hand job wasn’t on the menu tonight—I was.

“No. I want you, Roman,” I said, my voice full of need.

He leaned back and looked into my eyes as if to make sure I was positive I knew what I was saying, and then he nodded his agreement.

Reaching down, he pushed his fingers inside the side of my panties before ripping them from my body and stuffing them in his coat pocket.

“Forgive me,” he said out loud to no one.

Then he moved between my legs and positioned himself at my entrance. Suddenly, the door flew open and a staff member walked in. Thankfully, we were in the darkness and had time to adjust ourselves before he could see us.

“You can’t be in here,” the guy said as he flipped on a switch, swathing the room in golden light.

Grabbing my hand, Roman pulled me toward the door. “Our apologies,” he said as we passed the guy.

Once we were in front of the bathrooms again, he pulled me to him long enough to whisper in my ear. “Mama Maria’s. Tomorrow at noon. Meet me there.”

And then he walked back into the ballroom with the stride of a man on a mission and my panties in his pocket.

THAT NIGHT, I
went home alone. Michael never came home, and I couldn’t find it in myself to care. I hated it, but after so long with him being the way he was, I decided I no longer cared about what he did or who he did it with. Either I’d really hit my breaking point, or I was falling for Roman. Either scenario was a bad one.

The following day, I sat at a quiet table in the corner of Mama Maria’s and waited for Roman. I was excited to see him and after the way things had been between us the last couple of times we met, I figured it was time I found out exactly what it was we were doing.

The minute he walked in, my eyes were on him. He looked sexy in a pair of dark denim jeans and a button-up shirt. It was a major change from his usual doctor wear or suit. His hair was untamed as usual and his whiskey-colored eyes sparkled when they met mine from across the room.

My breathing accelerated when he came my way, slipping by tables without taking his eyes away from mine. A knowing grin stretched his thick lips, making his dimples pop, as he sat across from me.

“I’ll have whatever the lady is having,” he said to the waitress when she stopped by the table.

The waitress blushed with his words. Apparently, I wasn’t the only woman in the room who thought Roman’s British accent and good looks were a complete turn on.

Once the waitress left us, Roman sat in silence while he stared at me. I turned my head and tucked a few strands of hair behind my ear. His eyes followed my movements, making me nervous. My many faults moved to the front of my mind, and I tried to figure out which one of them he was noticing.

“You’re staring.” I stated the obvious.

Another wicked grin worked its way across his lips as he sat back in the booth, throwing an arm over the back.

“I’m sorry. I can’t seem to help myself with you.”

Again, his eyes devoured my face, and I felt the rush of heat move onto my cheeks.

I was thinking maybe we would come to lunch and pretend that the few times we had touched each other had never happened, but apparently, Roman had other plans.

“Don’t apologize. It makes me a bit nervous, but I like that you like looking at me,” I said into my glass of water before I took a quick, refreshing swig.

My throat was dry with nerves, and my pulse was banging hard and fast in my ears.

“I don’t like it.”

Embarrassment crept in. I’d spoken too soon. I always felt more confident when I was with Roman. He was always such a sweetheart that I hadn’t even considered the fact that he was being rude.

“I love it,” he said in a whisper as he leaned across the table, reaching for my hand. His warm fingers enveloped mine, sending sparks up my arm and down into my core. “I love looking at you. The responses I get from you. You’re so sexy, and you’re clueless to it.”

Heat moved over me. I’d never felt more wanted. Not even when Michael and I had first started dating. He was always so slow to touch or compliment, but Roman laid it all on the table, and I was reaching for his words in total desperation. I loved every minute of his flirting. It was different from when we originally started, but I couldn’t deny he made me feel womanly.

I looked up at him from beneath my lashes and smiled. The room around us blurred and in that moment, there was only us. Roman and Samantha. It was completely against the rules. It was breaking several of the commandments, but I couldn’t stop myself from feeling the way I felt, and I didn’t want to stop him from looking at me the way he was.

The waitress stopped at the table, breaking us from our spell, and sat his food in front of him. Still, he looked at me over her while she worked. I could practically hear his thoughts. He wanted to get out of there. He wanted to take me back to his office and throw me over his desk. And I couldn’t lie to myself. I wanted those things, too.

As soon as the waitress left, he moved his food to the side and reached out to take my hands.

“Go away with me this weekend,” he said, effectively changing the game and adding his own rules.

“What?” I choked.

“I have to go to New York this weekend for a conference. Go with me.”

Going away for the weekend was a massive step. I had to decide what I wanted to do before then. Did I want to make my marriage with Michael work? Because if I did, there was no way I was going away for the weekend for what was sure to be mind-blowing sex. But if I decided that what Michael and I had was long gone, a weekend of mind-blowing sex with Roman was exactly what I needed.

My mouth started before my mind was done drawing its conclusions, making the decision for me. “When do we leave?” The words slipped from my lips, shocking not only Roman, but me as well.

His grin was sexually charged and sinful. “Tomorrow.”

MICHAEL’S CAR WAS
in the garage, but the house was empty when I got home. Except for Duke, who nearly toppled me over when I came through the front door. He jumped on me, bathing my face with dog kisses.

“Down, Duke,” I chuckled.

Now that I wasn’t in front of Roman and completely mesmerized by his smile and eyes, my decision was looming over me. I couldn’t go away for the weekend with another man. I was a married woman. Even if I decided to leave Michael, which was in the back of my head, I was at least decent enough to wait until we were legally separated before I got in bed with another man.

Moving up the stairs, I slipped off my shoes and dangled them from my fingertips as I took each step at a fast pace. Ever since I’d gone running in the park with Roman and I saw how therapeutic it was, I’d gone every day at least once. I need to run in that moment. I needed to think.

Reaching up, I ripped my hair from its bun and ran my fingers through my strands. I was going to change into something comfortable and run until I figured out how to get out of the ridiculous decision I’d made.

Throwing open the door, I was met with Michael and a raven-haired beauty going at it in our bed and, sadly, I wasn’t the least bit shocked. Moving across the room, not even bothering to disturb them, I pulled open my closet door and reached for my suitcase. There was no need for running. My original decision was the correct one. What I had with Michael was gone, and I was no longer worried about what I was doing while I was married to him. He obviously didn’t give two shits about our marriage or me.

The bed creaked, and all the movement in the room stopped. I heard their bare feet on the hardwood behind me in frantic movements, but I ignored it as I tossed all the clothes I’d need and more into my suitcase.

“Sam? What are you doing?” Michael asked from behind me.

There was a hint of panic in his voice, but I ignored it. I was no longer going to make out things in my mind that weren’t there.

“Packing,” I simply stated.

My words weren’t angry because honestly, I wasn’t mad. I didn’t care, and I knew in that moment that any love I had for Michael over the years was thoroughly squashed. He’d done it. This wasn’t my fault. I had done everything I could to save what we had, but it was obvious he did not intend to do the same. We were over.

I’d go with Roman and have a weekend away having what I hoped was amazing and much-needed sex, and then I’d come home and deal with the rest.

“I can see that, but why?” he asked.

Swinging around, I burst into laughter as if I’d just heart the funniest joke. It was the laugh of a crazy woman who had snapped.

“You’re kidding, right?” I asked.

My eyes moved around the room, seeing that the dark-haired beauty was long gone. The bed was a mess and when I closed my eyes, I could see his face in rapture as he slammed his body into hers.

And then a calm moved over him, and a cocky grin moved across his face. “We both know you’re not going anywhere. Quit being ridiculous and let’s talk about this.”

Again, I laughed out loud. The entire situation was completely ridiculous and hilarious. I had been so dead set on fixing what was wrong with me to save our marriage, but for the first time, I could see that the problem was never me. Michael was the one in need of fixing… not me. I was far from perfect, but I was still me. Maybe a little more confident, thanks to Roman, but I was still me.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

And there wasn’t.

Turning away, I continued to pack my clothes and a few personal things.