The Monster (Boston Belles #3) - L.J. Shen Page 0,79

kill them. The only question is why? Why are you, the sweet, caring Aisling Fitzpatrick, doing this? Your brothers always told me you wanted to be an OB-GYN or a pediatrician. Something with babies involved, they said. The exact opposite of what you turned out to be.”

My eyes fluttered open on their own accord, and I met his gaze. Images of my mother earlier this morning spread over my bedroom carpet, helplessly bawling, attacked my memory. I didn’t want to be her. Meek and weak and always hiding her real self from the world. I straightened my back, taking a deep breath.

But old habits die hard …

“You can’t prove it.”

“I don’t need to. You’ll tell me your truth.”

“While you’re keeping so many secrets from me?” I choked on my bitterness, spluttering, “Nice try. Why are you here, Sam?”

His jaw ticked, but he said nothing.

“I find it hard to believe my job means so much to you. Whether I cure or kill people, it makes no difference to you. You owe me nothing, and your job is not to watch over me. In fact, it is the very opposite—to stay away from me. So why are you pushing this?”

His nostrils flared. He took my face in his rough palm, tilting my head so our mouths were aligned.

“I don’t fucking know, Aisling. I have no idea what keeps bringing me back to you, but I can’t seem to stop, and you don’t seem to mind, so let’s just get this out of our system and fuck already.”

The next thing happened like a snake bite. Sudden and fast and violent.

I kissed him roughly, this time taking what I wanted instead of waiting for it. Our kiss made me feel like we were lashing out at each other. Sam caught my lower lip between his teeth and tugged me closer to him, until there was no more space between us. He hoisted me up and carried me into the examination room, kicking the door open and spreading me flat over the table, kissing me as I toed off my work sneakers and unbuttoned his shirt.

There was nothing romantic or calculated about what we were doing. We both just needed to be physically connected as soon as possible. I tried to tell myself that it was fine. That no one had been on the examination table anyway. It was more for show. In case the place was discovered and Dr. Doyle and I needed to give the police some plausible explanation. Treating people without insurance underground wasn’t half as frightening as what we were trying to hide.

Sam’s tongue ran from my lips, down to my chin, heading south to my neck, licking a path between my tits. He cupped one of my breasts in his mouth through my shirt, groaning as he pushed my pants down, swirling his tongue around my erect nipple.

“Goddammit,” he muttered, sucking my whole breast into his mouth.

I shuddered. Something about the fact there was fabric and a sports bra between us made the act so much dirtier and erotic. I threaded my fingers through his hair—his body, hard and imposing, pressing against mine everywhere—as he moved to my other breast, giving it the same treatment.

When my pants and underwear were gone, and I was sitting on the examination table naked from the waist down, Sam pushed me roughly to lie down, using one hand to pry my thighs open and spread them as wide as he could.

“I sincerely hope you don’t intend to ask me to stop.”

I shook my head. “No. Don’t stop.”

“You know, growing up, I never played kiddie games. I graduated from formula to guns without a pit stop at toy cars and puzzles.” His mouth was swollen from our filthy kisses, and he grinned at me, his fingers on my hipbones as he plastered me to the cold, metallic table.

“Want to play doctor and patient?” I quickly caught his drift.

I wouldn’t bet on it, but I swore his cheeks pinked slightly.

“All right. Open up for me, Nix.” His fingers skimmed their way from my inner thigh to my center. I clapped a hand over his wrist, shaking my head with a taunting smile.

“Glove up first, Doc. First drawer on your left.”

He paused, then his face broke into a terrible smile. Terrible because it was the first genuine, giddy, hopeful smile I’d seen on Sam’s face in the decade I’d known him—and how awful was that?

Sam returned in a pair of my latex gloves that were tight around