Make It Hot. Gwyneth BoltonЧитать онлайн книгу.
didn’t know what worked better for his pain, the treatment or seeing her.
Seeing her.
After the treatment, they sat in her office, going over her plans for the rest of his treatments and discussing his progress.
He realized he had come a long way from where he was when he was injured during the big warehouse fire, but he still wasn’t back on the job.
The people around him, from his doctors to his family, kept pushing him to consider what he would do if it never happened, if he could no longer fight fires. He didn’t even want to think about those possibilities. Instead, he pushed them out of his mind and focused on his surroundings.
He had come to like her cozy little office. The only thing that didn’t seem to fit her was the fake greenery in the room. She seemed like a real-plant kind of a girl.
There was nothing fake about her. From the tips of her natural hair, to each and every curve on her body, to the unapologetically real retorts that came out of her mouth, she proved time and time again she kept it real.
“So how is the pain? You have less than a month left of therapy. We’ve been at this for over two months, are you noticing any difference? It definitely looks like your range of motion and strength are improving.”
“Yes, the pain isn’t as bad. In fact, sometimes I can go weeks without a flare-up.”
“That’s wonderful.” She smiled, and he could have sworn the entire office lit up.
He felt a stirring in his heart, and it shot straight to his groin. He couldn’t believe out of all the women he had come into contact with since his accident, he would find himself growing increasingly and overwhelmingly attracted to the one woman who knew all his shortcomings.
When he’d first become injured, he pretty much pushed the women he’d been casually dating away, at least the ones that tried to stick around and came to visit him in the hospital. He told himself that he didn’t need any pity, and he still firmly believed that. He also didn’t want anything taking his focus away from making his back stronger and returning to his job.
He hadn’t even missed the female companionship. In fact, the entire time he spent confined in the hospital, the only thing he really missed was his job. Then he came to physical therapy…Seeing Samantha three times a week seemed to add heat to parts of him he’d thought were frozen. His emotions were thawing, and he liked it.
He shrugged and tried to play nonchalant.
“You don’t look pleased.” She squinted her big, bold, brown eyes and studied him a bit too closely for his taste.
“I’d be more pleased if I could go back to doing what I was born to do.”
She inhaled and nodded. “You do realize how lucky you are, though, don’t you? You could have died in that fire. Or your back injuries could have been such that you could have been permanently paralyzed, but you’re alive. You’re healthy. You can walk without aid. You just have a sensitive back, one you will have to take care not to aggravate or reinjure.”
Joel bristled at her sharp tone.
“Well, don’t hold back now, sweetheart. Tell me how you really feel.” He leaned back in his chair.
As he took her in, he realized his chocolate beauty was probably thanking heaven her delicious dark skin wouldn’t show any signs of blushing. She looked really cute when she was contrite, and he found himself enjoying her uneasy stance.
“I’m sorry. I don’t usually give my opinion in this manner with patients. You can, of course, feel anyway you wish. I just wanted to highlight that you really have a lot to be thankful for…” Her voice faltered off.
“Oh, your point is very much noted, Ms. Dash.”
He watched her back straighten and her hand absently twirled her hair. She sucked her bottom lip in and nibbled on it for a moment, and in that moment he wished he were her teeth. He wanted to nibble and suck on those lips with an intensity that caused him to shift and squirm a bit to contain his urge to lean over and plant one on her.
In that very moment, he realized he was going to have Little Miss Spitfire soon. No matter what.
She took a deep breath and stood. “So, I guess I’ll see you Friday then. Your next appointment is in the evening, right?” She walked over to her office door.
He followed her with a pep in his step he hadn’t felt since the accident. There was something about coming to a realization, an understanding with oneself you’d been trying to fight or deny that rejuvenated one’s energy.
Giving in to the inevitable almost felt like a brick wall being lifted from his spirit, a shackle being broken from his soul. It felt like freedom.
It felt like a challenge he knew he would rise to and conquer. Because knowledge of his injuries and their many differences aside, Miss Samantha Dash’s lips demanded to be kissed and her thick bodacious body needed to be held.
By him!
Little Miss Spitfire had heated things up, and he was just the man to show her how to really make it hot.
“Argh!” Samantha sank into her seat and groaned in disgust.
She hadn’t meant to go off on her patient the way she did, but the sexy Joel Hightower brought out things in her she usually kept contained and under wraps.
Sure, she thought of snappy things to say and had some funny wisecracks running through her head all the time, but she had never voiced them before. Not with a patient. She had always been content to think them and make herself laugh—until Joel.
Growing up not being able to always tell her mother the things she was thinking had conditioned her to let all the things she wanted to say filter through her head and censor before she said them. Most times, she kept her smart comments and wisecracks to herself. It was enough to just come up with the zingers. Since meeting Joel Hightower, she had been letting her thoughts and opinions run freer than ever.
And what was with her telling him he should be thankful he’s alive and could walk? Even if she did firmly believe he should, she would have never crossed the professional line in the past.
Chastising a patient? That was a big no-no.
She leaned back in her chair and started to play with her hair. She needed to wash it and retwist it.
She had been wearing her hair in its natural state for several years now and had started to wear her shoulder-length, jet-black hair in two-strand twists as she flirted with the idea of locking her hair permanently.
The door to her office came bursting open, and she glanced up. Jenny needed to learn how to knock.
“I noticed our finest patient just left. That man is yummy to look at.”
She rolled her eyes at Jenny. “Does your husband know you spend your days ogling handsome patients?”
“Oh, so you finally acknowledge he’s handsome? Interesting.” A knowing smirk crossed Jenny’s lips as the older woman took a seat.
“I didn’t acknowledge a thing. He’s a’right. He’s not all that.” She sighed.
Shoot, Joel Hightower was more than all that. He was all that and then some…and then some more on top of that!
The only problem was she wasn’t supposed to notice how fine he was. The man was off-limits.
“Right, all I know is he is lucky I’m a married woman. He might have a stalker on his hands. That man is movie-star handsome. Goodness gracious!” Jenny patted her chest in mock-lust.
“Girl, stop. You know you wrong for that. You’re the one married to the Denzel Washington look-alike.”
If Samantha didn’t know Jenny was madly in love with her handsome husband, Walt, she might have been worried. But she had spent enough time with the couple and their