Page 19 of Claiming Ours (Anchor Bay #2)

BAYLEE

I blinked at the computer screen, reading the same schedule that I’d been staring at for the last ten minutes. Who knew multiple orgasms by one man’s talented tongue and fingers could scramble one’s brain like this.

I sure as hell didn’t.

Until now at least. Which was crazy, since Dean and I weren’t completely innocent when we were together.

Many times he’d done just as Liam, yet the results were vastly, magnanimously different.

And I sure as hell didn’t remember feeling like my brain was scrambled eggs after.

Did that mean Liam was that much more talented than Dean, being older and having more experience?

I ground my back teeth as a flash of jealousy flickered at the thought of Liam giving that kind of pleasure to someone else despite knowing the reality. He was married once and had multiple partners before me.

I just didn’t want to think about it.

The truth was, Dean and I were so young, together since high school, so maybe that was the difference between my lackluster response then and explosive reaction now.

He hadn’t had time or multiple previous partners to grow his skill set like Liam.

Which somewhat made me feel like shit for comparing them, considering my insides were still turned inside out from the mind-blowing orgasms he pulled from me hours ago.

Soul-shattering, knee-weakening orgasms that Liam easily wrenched from me.

That alone was a shock. There were many times when Dean and I had fooled around that I never fully got off, just enjoyed the overall experience of playing with him. Back then, I assumed there was something wrong with me, but now I wasn’t sure.

Guilt filled my chest with the familiar dull ache.

With a hard headshake, the tip of my ponytail flicking back and forth, I shoved those negative feelings away.

Not now, not today. I wouldn’t allow my regrets and past to diminish what Liam and I did before the shower, during the shower, and again after we were clean by feeling guilty about it.

I could move forward with my life and still miss Dean.

Those two did not have to be mutually exclusive.

Or so I hoped.

Blowing out a steadying breath to clear my mind of those distracting thoughts, I rubbed the heels of both hands against my eyes and refocused on the schedule for the day.

It was a light one, thankfully, because I had little energy after waking up hungover, stuffing my face with crispy bacon, and then, well, the aerobic shower.

The first appointment was someone visiting Anchor Bay and his companion coming in for a basic wellness visit.

Why he couldn’t wait until he went back home, I wasn’t sure, but I would do the checkup all the same.

It was a nice change of pace, like the husky I saw a few days ago before he and his owner went out on the trail, considering most of the locals didn’t bring their animals in for regular care, only basic vaccines or if they were injured.

Grabbing a new patient chart from the file cabinet, I slid the paperwork inside. Once everything was ready, I pushed off the armrests to stand only for black spots to dot my vision.

The entire room spun, and my hearing faded. I stumbled to the desk and gripped the edge to keep me on my feet. I squeezed both lids shut and opened them wide several times, hoping it would help remedy the unexpected wave of dizziness.

Between the lingering hangover and the active morning, my equilibrium must’ve been off. That was the only logical explanation. I ate more for breakfast than I had in months and was on my second Stanley of water for the morning.

Vision back to normal and balance restored, I grabbed the file once again and moved to the exam room to get it ready for the first patient. Lost in the list of things that could’ve caused the random dizzy spell, I almost missed the ring from the bell above the front door.

Time to get to work. Slipping on a clean lab coat, I headed for the front to meet my first patient.

Focus on the chart, I started to welcome the client to Anchor Bay, but the words froze in my throat when I finally glanced up, finding the hottest real-life bad boy standing in the middle of the room.

My brain went offline, and my lungs forgot their one job, making a stalled breath burn in my chest. I swallowed hard, hoping that would kick me out of my frozen state.

My calculated, slow inspection started at his edgy dirty-blond hair, the long portion on top slicked back, exposing the tightly shaved sides.

An eyebrow ring snagged my focus to his mint-green eyes that swirled with so many emotions, I had the urge to drop the chart and hug him until he couldn’t breathe.

With a broad nose, full lower lip that shone like he’d been licking it, and sharp jawline, he was a perfect balance of masculinity with a dash of softness that clashed with the dark tattoos decorating his skin.

The detailed designs curved down his neck, shifting as his Adam’s apple bobbed with a thick swallow.

He wore a lightweight Army green jacket that didn’t appear nearly warm enough for the cooler morning and a black shirt beneath.

Dark wash jeans hung on his narrow hips and hugged his thick thighs, the bottoms tucked into unlaced black combat boots.

His style was a unique mix of edgy grunge and trendy that you’d never see around Anchor Bay.

As I was checking out his cool-as-hell boots, the other set of feet—paws, rather—caught my attention. Apparently, I was too busy ogling the owner to notice the gorgeous yellow lab sitting beside him, tail swishing along the lobby floor.

Clearing my suddenly dry throat, I slid my gaze back to the man’s, casually wiping at the corner of my mouth since it was literally hanging open.

When our gazes met, unexpected recognition swirled.

I squinted as if that would help place the stranger.

My heart squeezed painfully, almost making me gasp, but I didn’t understand why.

This time I scanned his striking face to determine how I knew him rather than admiring his sharp, model-like features.

When I came up blank, I shook my head in annoyance with myself and forced a smile, clutching the chart to my chest.

“Hi, welcome in. I’m the veterinarian here, Dr. Baylee Smith, but please call me Baylee.

” I couldn’t help but gawk at the sexy-as-hell tattooed hand and fingers he stretched out between us.

Swallowing hard, I slid my much smaller hand into his and squeezed before pulling back quickly.

My heart raced, breaths turning choppy at the small touch, which made little sense.

When he didn’t offer his name, which I had already forgotten even though it was on the appointment booking, I turned a strained grin to his adorable companion. Finding the large yellow lab practically smiling at me, my own turned genuine, the tension and confusion melting away.

“And who do we have here?” I squatted low, putting my face right in front of his.

“Elvis.”

I shivered at the mysterious man’s deep voice. Tipping my chin up, I found him staring at me with an intense expression that I didn’t understand.

Shit, maybe too many orgasms scrambled my brain.

Oh well, it was worth it.

Another wave of recognition, a little tickle in the back of my brain hit me then, making my smile drop.

“Do I know you?” I asked before I could stop. Fingertips to the floor, I pushed to stand. “Sorry, I just… it feels like….” I stared at him, slowly shaking my head in confusion. “Anyway, sorry, I’m not feeling great this morning?—”

A squeak escaped, and I clutched the folder tighter to my chest when he cleared the distance between us in a single step. The toes of his boots stopped a centimeter from the tips of my tennis shoes. Staring at his chest, I tipped my face up, finding his green eyes full of concern.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured, hand hovering beside my face as if tempted to touch me.

“What?” I breathed. I was certain I should feel uncomfortable or scared with a stranger standing so close, but I didn’t.

I really, really didn’t. The way my pulse raced, and my stomach trembled with desire and not unease spoke to a very different feeling than fear.

If I had more than a few seconds to process it all, I’d probably feel terrible at being attracted to the stranger after my morning with Liam.

“You said you were sick. What can I do? Do you need to sit down?”

Before I knew what was happening, his hand pressed to my lower back, and I was guided to a basic plastic chair in the waiting room. Eyes still locked on his, I lowered into the seat, and he followed, crouching in front of where I sat.

“What is going on?” I couldn’t even react when he grabbed my wrist, pressing two fingers to my pulse while lifting his other wrist, exposing a traditional watch.

“Tell me your symptoms. Did you eat something this morning?” he asked while staring at his watch, lips faintly moving as he counted my pulse. “You should drink some water. I’m sure you’re dehydrated after last night.”

“I had?—”

He froze when I did, and his green eyes caught mine. This close, just a short distance separating our faces, that flicker of recognition turned into an unrelenting beat.

“Who are you?” My voice shook, but it wasn’t exactly from distress, more confusion and worry.

A soft tongue swiped at the back of my hand, drawing my attention to Elvis, who laid his large head on my thigh and whined.

“What is going on?” I repeated a little more urgently. The longer this went on, the more freaked out I became.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath at whatever he saw flash across my face. Sighing, he gently laid my arm down on my thigh, his fingers sliding away like he was reluctant to stop touching me. “Your pulse is fine, though a little weaker than I’d like. We should get you something with electrolytes.”