"That's it, baby," he continues, his tone almost soothing, despite the filth spilling from his lips. "Take my cock. Take all of it."
Baby.
My belly flutters, my heart soaring like a fool even though I know it's a runaway utterance. A thoughtless spi...
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Frost continues to remain silent as well, much to my surprise. I was certain he was going to drill and interrogate me to no end from the looks he'd given me back at the mansion when I ran into him.
I should really be happy he isn't saying anything, but for some reason, his silence—or perhaps refusal to talk about the very obvious pink elephant in the room—is somehow more disturbing than any yelling or blackmail he might have had in store for me.
The silence continues to stretch on between us, and I can't stop shifting in my seat at the discomfort I feel. I'm letting a stranger drive me home. I don't understand how I can feel both so uncomfortable and safe with him at the same time.
We finally arrive at my apartment, and the engine dies down, leaving us in complete silence. It's even more awkward now even though I'm in familiar territory now. I decide not to put myself through this unbearable awkwardness a second longer.
"Well, thank you for bringing me home, Doctor Frost," I say, unfastening my seat belt and taking off his jacket as quickly as I can. For some reason, I don't feel like it's appropriate for me to call him by his first name, even though he insists on it.
He pulls the keys out of the ignition and pops his door open.
"I'll walk you to your door," he says, looking at me intently again. It's a definitive statement and I know it, but I really just want this night to end and I certainly don't want him following me up to my apartment.
I shake my head. "That's fine, you don't have to."
"I insist," he says, making no attempt to stop what he's doing.
"Really, that won't be necessary—" I try to convince him, but he doesn't listen, and he heads out of the car before I can even finish what I'm saying.
He swings his door shut and walks around the car to mine again. I'm already opening it and trying to get out by the time he gets to me, but I'm having serious trouble doing so thanks to this ridiculous dress, yet again. I feel the damn thing shutting off my oxygen supply as it squeezes me mercilessly when I try to bend to retrieve my shoes or each time I shuffle in my seat in an attempt to get out.
Ugh! This dress is complete shit. It seriously should never be this hard to get out of a damn car. I swear I'll jump into a large pool full of piranhas before I ever agree to wear anything of Nicole's ever again.
Frost reaches for me, and I think he's going to take my hand, but instead, he grabs each side of my waist and hoists me into the air, pulling me out in one effortless motion.
I make a startled sound, feeling totally shocked by the abrupt and unexpected act. I didn't expect to feel his hands on me again, at least not tonight, and certainly not in such an intimate way.
I want to protest and tell him to put me down, but then I realize that most of the sidewalk and the other pathways are still wet and muddy from the snow, so I let him carry me all the way to the main landing.
My arms instinctively go around his neck before I can even realize what they're doing, and I can feel wisps of his thick, dark hair caress and tickle my skin as I do. It feels so soft and lush, and I have to ball my fists to stop myself from just taking liberties with it and running my fingers through his silky tresses. He really does have the kind of hair that's perfect for playing with—especially during sex. Heck, it's perfect for playing with before and after the act, as well.
I try my hardest to block out the incredible sensations his sure and assertive hands elicit from my body, and the deviant thoughts that they're instigating in my head.
I'm still in awe even though I remain silent. This man seriously just picked me up like I'm made of the world's tiniest baby bird feathers.
God, why the hell does he have to be so sexy and strong and intriguing and a host of other things that make me—and my recently hyperactive pussy—so damn restless?
He's also very married, Ramona, the more reasonable part of me scolds. And that means he's very unavailable, you gushing idiot.
I have to sigh at myself. I seriously need to get my mind right and stop acting like some thirsty groupie chick whenever I'm around this guy.
We get to my door, and suddenly, for some reason I can't even begin to understand, it only occurs to me right in this moment that he knows where I live.
That he knows exactly where I live!
I'm not really sure how I feel about that. Given the way my body seems to abandon any and all self-control whenever I find myself around him, having more knowledge of each other's personal lives is clearly a very bad idea, and may prove to be troublesome. Keeping as much distance between us as possible would be the smart thing to do—if only I was actually doing that.
What the hell was I thinking? I guess the problem is that I wasn't thinking at all. Being around him seems to do that to me a lot. I don't seem to make the best or the smartest decisions whenever he's near, and that's definitely a problem for me. A big problem.
It's so aggravating that I can't seem to function normally at the mere sight of him, and I barely even know the man!
But it'll be fine. After tonight, I won't see him again.
It's not like he's the only physician in the world—even if he is one of the best. I can always consult with a different doctor, and soon enough, Dexter Frost will be out of my life for good and nothing but a distant and very brief memory.
***
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