The Doctor's Lustful Cure

My boyfriend took me and his childhood sweetheart on a trip.

She got the front seat.

I was stuck in the back with his cousin, a handsome surgeon.

Up front, the two of them were in their own little world, feeding each other cupcakes.

I decided I was done playing nice.

On a bumpy stretch, I pressed my knee firmly into the doctor's thigh.

I didn't expect this cold, reserved man to reach out and grip my leg.

At party that night, I was all dressed up.

My boyfriend was furious. "You're upstaging her. Go change. It's her birthday."

"What if I don't?"

"Then we're done."

Later, I texted his cousin. "Doctor, my migraine is killing me."

His reply was immediate: "Where are you now?"

The moment he found me, I pulled him in for a kiss.

————————

1

Of course, Sloane Astor slid into the passenger seat. Caleb Thorne’s childhood sweetheart, acting like it was her throne.

I didn’t say a word.

I just turned, my hand reaching for the rear door of the Cadillac Escalade.

I pulled it open. And stopped. I hadn't expected to see him.

I never thought a man like Julian Croft, a top surgeon at Mount Sinai, would join a weekend getaway to the Catskills.

I quickly masked my surprise, offering a cool, polite nod.

Julian Croft. He wore glasses, and the lines of exhaustion were stark on his face. His eyes flickered open to meet mine—a brief, silent acknowledgment—before they slid shut again.

Sloane, already buckling up, shot a smug glance over her shoulder. "Karina, I get carsick, so I'm sitting up front, okay?"

Caleb backed her up instantly. "Sloane gets carsick. Just let it go, Karina; don't make a scene over something so small."

A small laugh escaped my lips. "Alright."

Caleb looked surprised by my easy compliance. But he had no time to comment. Sloane was already feeding him a cupcake from Magnolia Bakery.

"This has too much frosting, Caleb. Can you finish it for me, please?"

Without a flicker of hesitation, Caleb ate the rest of it.

In the rearview mirror, Sloane’s eyes met mine. She stuck out her tongue like a child.

I ignored her. I grabbed a bottle of sparkling water and tried to twist the cap. It wouldn't budge. I tried again. Nothing.

In the front, Sloane was already handing her own bottle to Caleb with a pout. "Caleb, I really can't open it. You know I have no strength in my hands."

Caleb’s gaze softened with affection. He opened it for her effortlessly.

Then they started sharing it, his lips following hers on the rim of the bottle, completely oblivious. Or maybe they just didn't care.

My stomach twisted into a knot.

As I was about to give up on my own water, a man’s hand reached over, taking the bottle from me.

The sleeve of a black blazer slid back, revealing a silver-gray shirt cuff. It fit snugly around a lean wrist.

It was an exquisite hand. The fingers were long and elegant, the knuckles defined, the nails perfectly clean.

As light from the window played over them, his fingertips gleamed like polished silver.

I was still staring when Julian twisted the cap open and handed the bottle back.

Music began to drift through the car, a perfect distraction. I took the bottle quickly. "Thank you," I murmured.

He gave a slight nod, his eyes already closed again. He must have just come from a night shift. I could see the faint bloodshot lines of exhaustion in his eyes.

I sipped my water.

The Escalade moved smoothly onto the highway.

Caleb had planned this trip for Sloane's upcoming birthday.

There were about eight of us in total, spread across three cars. Our destination: a luxury cabin deep in the Catskill Mountains.

We hadn't been driving long before Sloane had draped herself all over Caleb.

The music was too loud to hear their conversation, but their laughter and body language made it obvious how much fun they were having.

I’d fought with Caleb about this, about his inappropriate closeness with Sloane, more than once. And each time, he promised to be more careful, to respect our boundaries.

But the moment Sloane was near, his promises dissolved.

A wave of apathy washed over me. It was all so pointless.

I dropped my head, a bitter smile on my lips, and turned to stare out the window.

The mountain road snaked before us, the rich colors of late autumn blurring past.

The car hit a bump, and the jolt sent me sideways. My bare knee, exposed beneath my skirt, knocked directly against Julian's thigh. The contact was firm. Solid. We were pressed together.

My first instinct was to pull away. But then I saw it—a dark, unmistakable hickey on Sloane's neck.

I didn't have to wonder who it was from.

Rebellion sparked inside me. Hot and sudden. I didn't move. I stayed right where I was.

Just then, Julian’s eyes opened. His gaze found mine.

I forced myself to look forward, pretending I hadn't noticed, pretending I wasn't touching him. But I did it. I pressed my knee just a little harder against his leg.

Only the thin fabric of his trousers separated my skin from his.

Through it, I could feel everything. The solid muscle. The radiating heat. It was like a current arcing between us, a low thrum that lit up every nerve in my body.