Doc (Club Alias #7) - K.D. Robichaux Page 0,36

with the sexual part of my healing. He’d still find ways to subtly work his shrink powers on me like he’s been doing for the past year I’ve lived with him.

But I give in, because I am that girl who has always been in love with the idea of being in love. That’s just who I always was as a person. It was what made me, me. And I’ve been lost inside myself ever since I made that promise to never fall in love again. So if Neil can make me feel like me again, then I have nothing to lose and my whole self to regain.

“Deal.”

Chapter 8

Doc

As much as I wanted to just adjust myself between her legs and put us both out of our misery, the time just wasn’t right. When I finally take Astrid, it won’t be when her face is full of tears from rehashing her past.

I kissed her, and she was startled at first, having never tasted herself and because it was only our third kiss. Everything had gotten so heated in the shower so quickly, going from washing each other’s body to her on her knees, giving me the best blowjob of my life, that there was no time for kissing before I was devouring her pussy with my mouth.

Now that things have gotten physical between us though, I’ll kiss her every time I damn well please.

I’d gone into the bathroom and soaked a washcloth in warm water, wringing it out before bringing it to the bedroom. And then I knocked her hands away as I cleaned her myself, taking care of my woman the way she’d never been treated before. The way she’ll be treated from here on out. She was shy at first, having another person clean between her legs, but then she relaxed as the warmth of the cloth soothed her swollen core.

And now we’re downstairs, and I’m sitting on a stool watching her flit around the kitchen after she insisted she be the one to fix us some late lunch, since we never ate anything after we got home from the gym.

She sets two plates side by side on the island across from me and grabs the four pieces of toast out of the toaster, setting two on each plate. As she twirls over to the refrigerator, it’s not hard to see the dancer beneath her movements. It’s always been there subtly, but as I take her in more thoroughly, her posture is different. She’s standing straighter, taller, her head higher than I’ve ever seen it.

When she turns back around, closing the fridge with her hip, she looks at me as she brings the avocado spread over to the plates and opens the drawer to grab a butter knife. “What? What’s that face?” she asks, using the knife to point at me across the white marble.

The face she’s referring to is probably the knowing little smirk that won’t leave my lips.

“Endorphins look really good on you, goddess,” I reply, crossing my arms and resting them on the counter.

She smiles a closed-lip smile but doesn’t reply. She spreads the mashed avocado on the four pieces of toast and then spins around to grab the egg whites she cooked a few minutes ago. She uses the spatula to separate the eggs into four folded pieces, and puts a piece on each slice of toast. When she replaces the skillet to the burner, she stands on her tiptoes to open the cabinet above the stove, struggling to reach what she’s looking for. Her ass and legs are a work of art in her soft shorts she put on, and I adjust the fucker in my pants who is still very confused about his age.

She comes back down on her heels with a huff, turning to march over to the pantry where she keeps the stepstool I got her after I caught her climbing on the counters. My heart had nearly stopped, imagining her falling while I’m not at home. But I stop her before she takes another step.

“Goddess,” I prompt, and she turns to face me.

“Yes, Neil?” she asks, frustration from not being able to reach what she needs filling her voice.

“What’s closer, me or the stool?”

She pops her hip and crosses her arms over her white tank top, pushing her tits together and looking all kinds of sassy. “You, obviously. But I can do it myself.”

“But you don’t have to, Astrid. You can ask me to help. I’m here, I’m home, and

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