Page 101 of Fixation

I won’t. But still I say, calm as anything, “We’ll talk about it over breakfast. Not before you ask your first question, though. So, I’m listening.”

For a moment, it looks as if she’s going to withhold it from me. Until she sighs. Her shoulders drop. “You’re in here with me just because I might faint? You wouldn’t be here otherwise? Or…are you manipulating me?”

The showerhead returns to its place on the wall. Hot water cascades down our bodies.

I level her with my coldest stare.

“Yes and no. Hold on to me. Tighter.” She does, and I get shampoo in my hand and run it through my hair.

“Yes, you would’ve and no, this isn’t a game?”

I nod. She huffs.

“Why are you doing this, then? The real reason this time. You owe me that.” Her hands rise to my head, about to help me with the shampoo. Her body craves it. My girl, though, she’s stubborn. Confused. They fall at her sides. “None of this makes sense. You still haven’t told me why me.”

“I saw you. I wanted you. I stalked you.” I lather my body in soap, eating up the sound of her gasp. “Fast forward two months, you needed me. So I took you in.”

“You’re hiding things.” Her forehead creases. “What won’t you tell me?”

The water rinses the soap off my body1. Nothing can clean the dirty thoughts in my head. Which, at the moment, centeraround fucking the precious attitude out of her mouth before riling her up all over again.

“Now’s not the time. My shift starts in an hour.” I turn off the water, guiding Harper out of the shower.

She fights me every step of the way. Tugs at the towel. Scowls when I eradicate the distance between us.

Good girl.

Pride radiates through me. I pushed her in the right direction, and she’s following my lead.

“Let me. Please. For the last time.” A lie that narrows Harper’s eyes. “I’m going to dry you off.”

Despite her defiance, she holds still. With her feet planted on the white rug. “You aren’t going to let me go.”

“Yes, I am.”

Once I’m done running the towel over her body, I wrap her in it, tying a knot over her breasts, brushing my knuckles over her smooth skin while I do.

Fuck, I’ll miss her.

I’ll have her, soon. I’ll have her every day for the rest of my life.

Using the brush I bought for her, I untangle the knots in her mass of red locks. I’ve never done this before, for anyone.

Harper is silent. A single complaint doesn’t leave her lips.

“You helped me,” she whispers eventually, as I guide her to the bedroom. I’ll never forget this, her feet padding on my hardwood floor. She lets me remove her towel, then sits tall and naked and proud on the edge of my bed. “You—Dr. Maguire, I was in terrible shape.”

A pang of electricity zaps my heart, kicking it into action.

I slide a new pair of boxers over my hard cock. Put on the green scrubs over my strained muscles. “I did what any other doctor would.”

While I get her clothes from my closet—the outfit I picked from her house—I feel Harper’s stare on my back. Hot and questioning.

At my own pace, I turn to look at her over my shoulder and find doubt in those large green eyes.

“Other doctors wouldn’t have…” She’s conflicted between accusing me and thanking me.

It gets me so fucking hard.