Doctor Charmer (Doctors of Eastport General)

20. Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

Ivy

T he clink of silverware against china causes me to rip my gaze from the winter wonderland I’ve been staring at. Reggie is stirring a spoon in a coffee mug, and the scent of warm chocolate reaches me.

“That smells amazing. I can’t believe you make hot chocolate from scratch. You are a man full of surprises.” I take the cup and saucer and curl on the couch to face him as he slides in next to me. I press my wool sock-covered feet to the cushion and steal a quick sip.

“This is heaven.” I bat my lashes up at him and am rewarded with a sexy smirk. “All of it.” I jut my chin over the couch at the incredible view that has mesmerized me for the last five minutes. Reggie’s condo is on the ninth floor of an impressive building on the outskirts of town. His living room overlooks a forest with hiking and bike trails. At this hour, the lights from the building light up the falling snow like stars in the dark night sky. The snow-covered forest is a winter wonderland.

I take another sip, and when I look up, Reggie’s intense stare shifts the temperature in the room from hot to intense. His hand reaches toward me, the tip of his finger brushing a tendril of my hair from my face. His touch is brief, tender, and I tilt my neck to give him easy access. He cups my face, and I close my eyes.

“I’m glad you asked me here.” I say the words I’ve been feeling since I walked in. After the kiss in front of the hospital, we stopped at my hotel for me to grab an overnight bag. Reggie refused to run up to the room with me, afraid if he got me in a room with a bed, we’d never leave. I didn’t test him on it.

“I’m glad you’re comfortable.” His words catch me by surprise. I work hard to project confidence and comfort. Most days, it’s easy because people rarely bother to look much past the facade.

“It’s because of you.” He doesn’t dismiss my words. Instead, he gives me a brief nod, taking the cup from my hand and placing it on the coffee table in front of us. Then, his hand is back on my face, his body leaning toward me, and before I can take a breath, his lips are on mine.

A soft kiss that is filled with a gentle tenderness that forces me to slow down. We’re not hormone-driven teenagers fumbling on a basement couch, half listening for the sound of parental units above us. We are both experienced adults with histories and reputations.

We take our time. We appreciate the moment. His heated breath warms my neck as he speaks. “I’ve wanted to kiss you from the second you were no longer my patient that first night.”

I pull back just enough to meet his gaze, which is clouded with heat. “I know.” I give him a quick ghost kiss. “Another victim of Coach Flirt-a-lot.”

Fire ignites in his eyes, and he slams his lips into mine. Hand in my hair, this kiss is on the opposite spectrum from tender. It’s hungry. It’s ravenous. It’s an I’ve dreamed about this for too long and need it now kiss. I match his intensity to let him know he’s not the only one feeling this way.

I fall back onto the couch, and our magnetized lips pull him forward. He peppers kisses down my collarbone, and I arch my back. His hand moves from the back of my head to my sides, not stopping until they land on my hips. That’s when I freeze. My body stiffens, and he notices immediately.

“I’m sorry.” His bashful words are an apology he doesn’t need to deliver. “I didn’t want to be in your tiny hotel room for this very reason. And yet… we’re here…” He sits upright on the couch, putting distance between us, his hands adjusting his bunched-up T-shirt.

I push up, straightening the blouse I changed into when I stopped back at the hotel. “You have nothing to be sorry about.” I slip my hand into his. “You didn’t do anything I didn’t want.” These words aren’t enough to explain my reaction.

He avoids my gaze, instead focusing his attention on our tangled fingers. I gulp, not believing I’m about to say what I’m about to say. “I haven’t been with a man in over three years.”

His gaze snaps to me, a scrutinizing glare that looks as if he’s a second away from calling BS on me.

“I know what you’re thinking.” My pulse races as I wait for his judgment.

“Trust me, you don’t.” His tone is soft and compassionate.

“You think I’m all talk. All tease.”

He raises his hand, palm facing me as if he’s in elementary school asking his teacher to speak. “Two years here.”

No freaking way. “Bullshit.” I don’t share his compassion. “Dr. Charmer?” I call him on it.

“Coach Flirt-a-lot.” He tosses my nickname back at me. Eyes locked, I brace. For what, I have no idea. Are we about to curse at each other, or…

His lips burst open with laughter, and I immediately follow suit. Water blurs my vision as I rest my elbows on my knees and let wave after wave of laughter take me away.

“What a pair we are,” I say, wiping tears from my cheek. I sniff and lean back on the couch. “Whew!” I exhale, not believing how good it feels to come clean.

Reggie’s shoulders press into the cushion next to me, his arm resting on the back of the couch. He strokes a finger across my shoulder. Sparks race through me as I drop my head and lower one of my last remaining shields.

“I’ve made mistakes in the past by moving too fast.” My voice goes flat as a whirlwind of memories swirls in my head. “After my injury, I was lost for a bit. Volleyball had always been my sanctuary. My safe space. My world. There, I was always on top. People looked up to me, cheered for me. Went out of their way to be close with me. Saving seats for me in the cafeteria, scoring extra tickets to concerts for my favorite artists when they performed in town.”

I pull my knees to my chest and squeeze. “It all seemed to stop after the injury. Suddenly, I was just another student on campus, no longer the campus superstar being recruited for the Olympic team. For the first time in my life, I didn’t have volleyball to fall back on. To pick me up.”

Reggie strokes my lower back, not saying a word. Listening. Learning my history the way I did the other night in the back of his SUV.

“I used what I thought was the only other thing I had going for me. My looks.” I bite my lower lip, debating how much of my broken past I will share. “Guys are easy. A flirty smile, a swing of the hip, a touch on their arm.” I close my eyes, not wanting to see Reggie’s face when I say the next part.

“I thought I’d get back on my pedestal by being pulled up next to men who were already high up on their own and would make room for me. The popular boys on campus.” I twist away from Reggie, pressing my cheek hard against my knee, my arms wrapped tight, eyes still slammed shut.

“Apparently, guys aren’t the only ones who carry the label ‘easy.’ They got what they wanted from me and moved on.” I pause, expecting the wave of regret to overtake me. It doesn’t. Instead, a sense of relief washes over me with my declaration.

“Not one sharing their shine with me. Not one deeming me worthy enough to stand next to them. By the time I realized what they were doing, it was too late for me and my reputation.”

“So, you embraced it?” Reggie’s words do for me what my story didn’t. It extracts a reaction. I twist to face him, tears in my eyes. I bat my eyelashes and wait for the blur to clear. He’s staring at me with a look of admiration that causes the tears to return. “I get it.”

Three words. Words I never thought I’d ever hear from someone after hearing my story. Especially from a man. I get it. He sees me. He sees behind the bluster, past the sexy retorts, past the surface to see the complicated woman beneath.

“We all try to shield our scars from the world. Exposing our vulnerabilities is an act of bravery. Thank you for trusting me. I see you.”

He pulls me into a tight hug, his words of reassurance validating my instinct to speak. “We are taught from a young age that we need to be perfect to be loved. It’s not true. It’s our imperfections that make us unique. It’s the wounds we carry that make us beautiful. You are beautiful. All of you.”

I take the lead this time. My lips on his. My hand in his hair. I shove him on his chest, forcing him backward, and climb across his lap, straddling him. The next wave of kisses is a reward. Hungry pants fill the heated air between us, and my heart races to a speed it’s not reached in years.

Foreheads pressed together, ragged breathing in my ear, I lean back and hook a thumb behind me. “Carry me to your bed,” I order, and he stands. Strong arms hold me up, his hands squeezing my rear. He turns and lowers me to the couch.

His gaze locks with mine, freezing me in place. A look of care and sincerity floods my senses. “I’m not ready.” He delivers the declaration with an earnestness as pure as a child’s first promise.

I settle into the couch and give him the space to explain. “Every fiber of me wants to do that.” He juts his chin toward the bedroom doorway. “But I can’t. Not tonight.” He plops his rear onto the coffee table in front of me, hands in mine, eyes locked. I breathlessly wait, forcing myself not to jump to conclusions.

“I don’t want to rush something so special based on us getting caught up in emotions. You’re not the only one with a reputation. I don’t want you waking in the morning and wondering if my words were used to charm you into my bed.”

“I don’t,” I protest. The thought never crossed my mind.

“Good. Because I meant every one of them.” He lifts our hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of my hand. “But I’m still not going to sleep with you. Tonight.” His eyes return to mine as he lets his words marinade. I’m not the only one with insecurities, whose reputation has messed with their head so much they have trouble separating the man from the myth. “You take the bed; I’ll sleep on the pull-out.”

He’s serious.

While part of me wants to jump his bones, a bigger part of me recognizes this for what it is. My lips purse as I speak. “I understand.” I squeeze his hands, the weight of this moment sitting heavy in the air. “What if I slip on the pink silk two-piece lingerie I brought from my hotel room?” I paint on a smirk to lighten the mood.

He hangs his head, shaking it. “You trying to kill me?”

“I know CPR. A requirement for coaching.”

He snickers. “That will have to be a hard pass. I’ll take the pull-out.”

I stand, pulling him up by the hand. “Reggie, I’m a grown woman with some level of self-control. We can share a bed without anything happening.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about—it’s me.” He runs a hand through his hair before continuing. “I know myself. I knew I couldn’t trust myself to be in your small hotel room together without pressing you against the wall and claiming you. And I know if we shared a bed tonight, there is no power on this earth that will keep my hands off you. From crossing that line.”

Passion radiates off him like a strong ocean current. It would be so easy to give in and get pulled away. Even if it was something I wanted, it’s not what he wants. Not what he needs. I must respect his words I’m not ready. Words I wished I had learned to use back in college. “Should I lock the bedroom door?” I tease. It’s what I do. It’s how I disarm and diffuse situations. “Maybe prop the dresser against it too?”

The heat in his eyes doesn’t dissipate. They continue to burn bright enough to melt all the snow in the forest below us. “No power on earth.” He repeats his words from before, and this time, I believe him. My lips separate, but no sound escapes.

He steps around me, tossing a comment over his shoulder. “I’ll gonna go pull out my flannel pajamas for you to wear and will toss your lingerie down the garbage chute.”

I spin on my heels and watch him march into his bedroom and feel the pull of my lips curling into a smile. I’ve broken through his charming exterior. I see him for who he truly is. There is a true gentleman underneath all that charm.

I see him.

And it’s beautiful.