Page 10 of Blind Date with a #Doctor (Love Canyon: Blind Date #3)

Carter

Aspen stands in my doorway, holding a basket of popovers and a smirk, and I already know I’m in trouble.

She looks so damn good—jeans hugging her curves, a soft, oversized sweatshirt that drifts off one shoulder just enough to make me crazy, and her hair loose and wavy, like she didn’t put in too much effort but still somehow looks perfect.

The second she steps inside, the whole house feels different. Lighter. Warmer. Like it’s been waiting for her to show up.

She holds up the basket. “I come bearing gifts.”

I take it from her, lifting the lid. The smell alone is enough to make me groan.

“Jesus, Aspen.”

She grins. “I figured I’d distract you with desert in case my assistant chef skills turn out to be subpar.”

I shake my head, already reaching for one. “You could burn the entire meal, and I’d still keep you around just for these.”

She smirks, toeing off her boots. “Duly noted.” And that’s how it starts. Just the two of us, in my kitchen, cooking like we’ve done this a hundred times before.

I chop vegetables while Aspen stirs the sauce, and we fall into our usual rhythm—talking, teasing, letting the conversation drift wherever it wants.

She tells me about her latest case—some disaster of a real estate deal involving a couple who broke up but refused to back out of their house contract—and I tell her about a kid at the clinic who asked me dead serious if I could install laser vision in his glasses.

“And?” Aspen asks, raising an eyebrow.

I smirk. “Told him I’d need a different degree for that.”

She snorts, taking a sip of wine. “Smartass.”

“You like it.”

She smirks but doesn’t deny it.

Dinner is slow and unhurried. We sit at the small table in my kitchen, plates between us, glasses of wine half-drained, and at some point, the conversation shifts. We get quieter, more real.

Aspen traces the rim of her glass, eyes focused but distant.

“I used to think being a lawyer was all I wanted,” she murmurs. “Like if I could just get to the top, make a name for myself, I’d feel satisfied.”

I watch her, waiting. She exhales softly.

“But sometimes, I don’t know. I think about what’s next. If this is it, or if I’m supposed to want more.”

“Like what?” I ask.

Her lips press together. “Like slowing down. Finding something that feels more like me.”

Fuck if that doesn’t hit me square in the chest, because I know exactly what she means.

I take a sip of wine, rolling the glass between my palms. “You ever think about walking away from it?”

“Not yet,” she admits. “But maybe someday.”

I nod slowly, staring at the candle flickering between us. “Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve done something else,” I admit. “Not medicine. Or at least not this kind.”

Aspen tilts her head. “You don’t love it?”

“I do,” I say, and I mean it. “I love my patients. I love helping children. But some days, it’s a lot.”

She doesn’t rush me, doesn’t try to fix it. She just listens and I don’t think she realizes how rare that is.

I lean back in my chair, watching her. “What about you? What would you do if you weren’t lawyering?”

Aspen smirks. “Lawyering?”

I grin. “You know what I mean.”

She hesitates, then, answers softly, “I used to want to write.”

I blink. “Yeah?”

She nods. “I mean, I still do. I just never make time for it.”

I watch her, seeing something raw and real flicker in her eyes. And suddenly, I want nothing more than to make space for all the things she’s ever wanted, because Aspen Hayes deserves that. She deserves everything.

The meal ends, but neither of us moves. We just sit there, eyes locked, wine forgotten and I swear, the air shifts. Thickens.

My fingers drum once against the table. “Aspen.”

Her breath catches slightly. “I know,” she whispers.

Then we’re both moving. I push back from my chair just as she stands, and we meet halfway, crashing into each other like we’ve been waiting for this exact moment.

Her hands clutch my shirt.

My fingers tangle in her hair.

I kiss her like I don’t ever want to stop.

Like I won’t ever stop.

She melts against me, her body pressing flush to mine, fitting perfectly, like she’s supposed to be there. I don’t think, I just move.

Lifting her out of her seat and into my arms. She wraps her legs around my waist, and I let her feel exactly what she’s doing to me.

She moans against my lips, and I swear to God, I lose my mind.

I trail kisses down her neck, savoring the way she gasps when I reach the hollow of her throat.

“Carter,” she whispers, fingers dragging over my back, my chest.

“We should slow down,” I murmur against her skin.

She tilts her chin up, pulling me back to her lips. “Don’t you dare.”

I chuckle softly. “Yes, ma’am.”

I carry her to my bedroom and we are both messy and desperate. Clothes everywhere. Her laugh in my ear as I fumble with the zipper on her jeans. My pulse pounding so loud I’m half convinced she can hear it.

She’s gorgeous.

The way she looks at me, like she trusts me, like she wants this just as badly, it damn near undoes me. I take my time. I kiss every inch of her.

I learn the sounds she makes when I touch her just right, the way her breath catches when I push her thighs apart and taste her like I’ve been starving for her since the second we met.

Her thighs tighten around my head as I run my tongue up and down her slick pussy lips. When I gently suck her clit into my mouth, she arches beneath me, hands in my hair, back bowed, whispering my name like a secret she’s finally ready to share.

I gently insert two fingers into her wet channel. I need to have her fall apart on my tongue. I curl my fingers to touch that super sensitive wall as I once again pull at her tight bundle of nerves with my mouth.

“Carter…Carter…Carter,” she repeats my name over like a mantra. “Carter!” she screams as she reaches her peak and it’s the best damn thing I’ve ever heard.

Slowly I pull my fingers out of her body and as she watches me intently I put both into my mouth and suck off her essence.

“Fuck, you taste so good, Aspen. I could stay between your thighs forever and die a happy man.”

She blushes and it spreads down her breasts. I wrap my lips around her berry-colored nipple and suck it into my mouth.

Again, Aspen moans my name. I want a recording of her saying my name in this way.

I move to her other breast and give it the same attention.

“Carter, I need you,” Aspen says as she pulls my head up to hers. My lips find hers and I let her taste herself. The kiss turns frantic and wild.

Aspen grabs my cock, rubs my pre-come along the tip and down the shaft. It feels so good that I forget my name. Then she lines my dick up against her slit and I slide the head into her warm body.

When I finally press into her, slow and deep, her fingers dig into my shoulders, and she exhales this soft, perfect, wrecked sound that feels like mine. We find a rhythm, it’s lazy at first. Exploring each other’s responses. Then faster, harder, like neither of us knows how to stop anymore.

I hold her as close as I can. Like if I let go, even for a second, this whole night might disappear.

I feel her walls tightening around my cock and know that she’s about to orgasm again.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” I whisper in her ear.

She nods and then screams out as her body finds release. I quickly follow over the edge and it’s never felt so good.

When it’s over, when we’re tangled up in the sheets and her head is on my chest and my heart’s still racing, all I can think about is how badly I want to do it all again.

Later, she’s curled against my chest, my arm wrapped around her like I’m never letting go. The room is quiet. The air is warm.

She sighs softly, fingers tracing lazy circles on my skin. I press a kiss to her temple, pulling her closer. Neither of us says anything, because we don’t have to.