Yes, Doctor Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by Katy Connor. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact [email protected].

  Cover design by Liz Pelletier

  Cover art by 4x7/Getty Images

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition September 2018

  Chapter One

  TAL

  The moans of pleasure drifting from my neighbor’s open window hit my cock like nails scraping down my back. I’m hard and begging for more in an instant.

  Standing on my balcony, with the 2:00 a.m. summer breeze cool on my skin, and the scotch I’d poured to put an intense work shift behind me forgotten, I lean my forearms on the balcony railing, close my eyes, and listen.

  And grow harder.

  Fuck, her voice is soft with lust, and her low moans make my skin itch with tightness. She’s clearly getting into the moment with her partner, and I’ve never wanted to be anyone else more.

  It’s impossible not to feel jealous. Bia Adams has featured in a dozen of my fantasies since she moved into the condo beside mine six months ago.

  In those fantasies, she looks at me with her mesmerizing blue eyes, her cheeks growing pink with her customary blush—anytime we have any kind of real-life interaction she blushes and looks away, as if too nervous or shy to hold my gaze, which is a total fucking turn-on—and begs me to touch her.

  She’s nothing like my normal type—tall women, confident to the point of arrogant, with no agenda except hard, hot fucking. And yet the second I saw Bia on the day she moved in, she’s left me feeling anxious and nervous and horny and, yeah, captivated.

  Not my normal emotional state.

  In six months, I’ve barely spoken more than a few words to her. But in my head, I know exactly how my name would sound on her lips as I make her come over and over.

  Bia Adams, short, lush, and shy, is the only woman my dick wants.

  She moans again, louder this time, and a tight, hungry spasm claims my rigid cock. In that split second, I want nothing more than to swap places with whoever is in there with her making her moan with such raw pleasure. I want to part her thighs and drag my tongue up the wet slit of her pussy. I want to hear her soft giggle as my day’s growth of beard tickles her inner thighs. I want to suck on her clit, bite it, tease it with my tongue until she begs me to stop, even as she grips my hair in her fists to hold me exactly where I am.

  I want to fuck her ’til neither of us can move again and she’s the happiest woman in the world. But until she shows that she’s interested me, she’s off-limits. That doesn’t mean I don’t like to listen, though.

  My cock jerks in my pants again, and I stifle my own moan. It’s not likely she expects me to be standing on my balcony at two in the morning. My work hours are unpredictable and erratic, after all, but I don’t want to interrupt what is taking place in the darkness of her home, no matter how much I wish to hell it was me.

  Our living rooms share a wall, our balconies do the same, and more than once I’ve come home from work and wandered out on mine, scotch in hand, to hear her moving about in her living room. She enjoys cooking shows and some series on Netflix with a creepy opening theme and an eighties soundtrack. More than once I’ve considered knocking on her door and asking if I can join her watching it. Not because I’m interested in the show, but because I want to experience something she enjoys in her company. On the few occasions I’ve walked onto my balcony while she was cooking, the aromas wafting from inside her condo were so delicious my mouth would actually water. And I’d get horny.

  Good food and good sex go so well together, and everything about Bia makes me think of good sex.

  Inside her condo, she whimpers, the sound almost a word. Or a name.

  Goddamn it, who’s in there with her? Giving her what I want to give her.

  I should go back inside, I should stop listening, but be fucked if I can. Not until Bia comes. The behavior of a masochist, yes, but the way it is. I’m trapped by the sounds of her pleasure, and there’s nothing I can do about that.

  Her moans grow faster, louder. More urgent. She’s approaching the zenith. My breath grows short and shallow. I’m almost there with her just on the sounds wafting from her condo.

  Drawing in a deep breath, I close my eyes and grip my scotch. I won’t touch myself, no matter how much I want to. I won’t. Not out here.

  “Oh God…” Bia groans, part breathy plea, part hitching cry. “Oh yeah… Oh yeah…Tal…”

  Tal.

  I freeze. Everything turns hot. The air, the blood in my veins, in my cock.

  Tal.

  Did she just say—

  “Tal…” she moans again, louder this time.

  My heart smashes up into my throat. My head roars. To the best of my knowledge, there’s only one Tal in Hardrock, Colorado. Tallowwood Bernadi, the only son of aging hippy parents who named him after a goddamn tree found only in the country in which he’d been conceived during one of their “journeys” to find themselves.

  Tallowwood Bernadi.

  Doctor Tallowwood Bernadi.

  Aka Tal Bernadi.

  Me.

  “Oh fuck, Tal…” Bia groans from her living room. The unmistakable quaver of impending sexual release is thick in her voice. “Oh Tal…Tal…”

  She’s groaning my name. She’s fucking groaning my name during sex.

  Or while she… I swipe a shaking hand over my mouth. Or while she gets herself off. Jesus, is Bia masturbating to the thought of—

  “Oh T-Tal…Tal…” Her voice grows higher, a shaky cry of utter pleasure. “Oh God, T…”

  My name dissolves into a raw groan. I don’t need to be in there to know she’s climaxed.

  But you better fucking believe, I want to be.

  Shit, what do I do? Pretend I haven’t heard what I’ve just heard? Or—

  I spin on my heel, stride through my condo, yank open my door, and then go knock on hers.

  There’s a few moments of silence, followed by the soft thud of footprints, and then Bia’s voice—still shaky and almost breathless—comes through the door. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me,” I answer, pressing my hands to the doorframe. I know it’s medically and physically impossible for every molecule of my body to be straining for her, but fucking hell, that’s what it feels like. “Your next-door neighbor.” I don’t say Tal. Our condos are the only two on the top floor, which means she only has one next-door neighbor.

  Silence. For longer this time.

  Do I knock again?

  I stare at the door handle. It will turn. It will.

  It does. Slowly. And then Bia Adams stands in the open doorway, her exquisite body wrapped in a short shell-pink satin robe, the kind that reveals a sinful amount of leg and cleavage and highlights just how pebbled her nipples are.

  “T… Doctor Bernadi?” Goddamn it, there is that delightful blush, just as she lowers her gaze from mine. And then she’s looking up at me again. Her bottom lip is full and glistening, as if she’s just traced her tongue over it. I want to trace my tongue over it. So fucking
much it actually hurts. “Can I help you?”

  Holding her gaze, I draw in a slow breath and give her a slower smile. “You called?”

  Her cheeks grow pinker and she gasps, twisting to look at the open glass door leading onto her balcony.

  “You called my name a few seconds ago.” I try not to grin. “Moaned it, actually.”

  “I…” She looks back at me, at the floor, the door frame, the potted fern in the hallway behind me, up to my face again, and then back to the floor. “I was…w-watching…”

  “No.” I arch an eyebrow. “You weren’t.”

  Her eyes grow wide, and her little pink tongue darts out, wetting her bottom lip. “The balcony door…” she says, once again darting her gaze all around the place. “I…I didn’t realize…you were home.”

  She grips the front of her satin robe tighter, which pulls the flimsy fabric firmer over her lush breasts, emphasizing their round perfection and the hardened points of her nipples even more.

  Does she know? I doubt it.

  Does she also know how much I want to take them into my mouth? Suck on them? Bite them? Through the satin to start with, and then with nothing between my mouth and her flesh.

  My dick pulses in my pants, and I draw a slow breath. I won’t rush her. If she wants me as much as I want her, I won’t need to. The very fact she called my name…

  The chances are slim—astronomically slim—that there could indeed be someone else in there with her called Tal.

  She looks up at me, teeth catching her bottom lip. Oh yeah, I definitely want to taste that lip soon.

  I lift my gaze from her mouth to her eyes. “Do you have company?”

  She draws a slow breath, tilting her chin, and then shakes her head.

  Thank fucking God.

  I hold her gaze, not bothering to hide the lust in my gaze. “Would you like company?”

  She swallows. Feathers her fingertips up to the base of her throat. Does she have any fucking clue how hot she is? Shy and sexy and sinfully enticing? If it is all an act, if she is in fact a seasoned seductress, then she’s playing me with the skill of a maestro. I don’t care.

  I wait. She’s worth it.

  I’ve fantasized about her. I’ve jerked off to her.

  And now I know Bia Adams gets off to the thought of me.

  A faint pink tinge fills her cheeks and, eyelids fluttering closed, she dips her head. “I…” she whispers. “N-no.”

  Fuck.

  My gut clenches, like someone’s punched it. “Really?”

  “Really.” She looks up at me, cheeks pink, and shakes her head. “I don’t think… It’s not a good idea.”

  Sucking in a slow breath, I clench my jaw. There’s something in her eyes that tells me if I were to destroy the space between us, if I were to haul her to my body and kiss her, she’d surrender.

  But as much as I want to step across the threshold, I dip my head in a single nod. It’s her call, not mine. “Okay.”

  “I’m s-sorry, Tal.” She’s looking at her feet again, her hair cascading over her shoulders, her voice soft. “I should’ve had the door closed.”

  Swallowing, I shove myself off the doorframe and take a step back. “No, no.” Hell, I sound like I’m talking through gravel. “I shouldn’t have come over.”

  Her eyes meet mine for a split second. Her lips part—to say what?—and then she thinks better of it and closes her door.

  Leaving me standing outside it.

  Well shit. That did not go the way I thought it would.

  Chapter Two

  BIA

  What am I doing?

  Why did I just send him away? He wanted me; in the same way I have him for six months. It was in his eyes. So why did I send him away?

  Oh yeah, that’s right. I moved here to be left alone, not…not…the opposite.

  Slumping against the door, I scrunch up my face and bury it into my hands. I really should have thought of that before leaving the balcony door open, though.

  “Oh no.” Heat floods my cheeks. He’d heard. He’d heard it all.

  Idiot, thy name is Bia.

  “Shit,” I breathe into my palms. I’m never going to be able to look him in the face. I’ll have to move. Again.

  I love living in Hardrock. No one knows me. No one cares about who I am or who my mother is, or what my life was like before. Here, I’m just Bia Adams, the shy nobody who looks after neglected and unwanted animals all day at the shelter on the outskirts of town, and that’s exactly how I want it. I love my job. I love feeling like I have worth, real worth, not just the kind that comes from the amount of money in the family bank account. I love feeling like I actually mean something more than just being my mother’s only child. I love that the people here don’t fawn over me because of—

  The soft thud of a door closing tells me Tal’s gone back into his condo.

  Well, there he goes, the very embodiment of my sexual fantasies, back inside his home.

  Letting out a sigh, I slide down the door to the floor.

  My body’s still thrumming and warm. Stupid body. Making me get all hot and horny for my sexy neighbor. Masturbating to the thought of Tal has become a daily addiction. I’ve tried to kick it. I really have. But every time I see him, any hope I have is shattered. He’s so damned controlled, so constrained, so…so undeniably potent in his masculinity and confidence. It does things to me. I mean, I’ve meet some insanely hot and sexy guys in my twenty-four years, but Tallowwood Bernadi?

  A ripple of desire tickles through me and my nipples pinch tight. I’ve gone through a lot of batteries, thanks to the good doctor, and I mean a lot. I can’t help myself.

  How many times have I bitten my lips to stop myself from moaning his name as I’m using my vibrator and thinking of him, wishing it was him inside me instead of a battery-powered sex toy?

  Every time.

  Until tonight.

  And of course, that’s when I forget to close the balcony door.

  Forget? Or left it open on purpose?

  My breath catches. I know Tal keeps erratic hours. He’s a heart surgeon at All Saints Medical Center, after all. Chief cardiothoracic surgeon, to be precise. I googled him after the very first time we met. How could I not? He was just too damn yummy.

  I’ve heard him moving around in his condo in the middle of the night. I’ve heard the ice clinking in his glass from his balcony in the early hours of the morning.

  So why the hell did I forget to close my balcony door?

  Because I subconsciously wanted him to hear me?

  My blood runs cold. Oh crap, surely not?

  An image of him in my doorway fills my head, and another ripple of desire runs through me. Ha, not so much a ripple as a quake. A core-deep shudder of sexual desire.

  I’ve never seen him looking so raw, so…so…hungry. It was as if he was fucking me with his eyes, like he was ready to give me everything I’ve ever fantasized him giving me every time I turn on my vibrator.

  I didn’t think Tal even knew I existed, not on a sexual level, at least, but the way he looked standing in my doorway, like a man with a hunger only one thing could satisfy… And the way he looked at me, like I was that one thing…

  My insides flutter, my clit throbs, and I squeeze my thighs together.

  Is it actually possible Tal wants…wants me?

  I open my eyes and look at my balcony door. It’s still wide open, the cool night air wafting in.

  You called my name.

  His statement plays with my sanity. When he’d said those words, in a voice so low and husky and confident, I almost came again.

  I had called his name, because there’s something about him that just does it for me. The first time I saw him he stole my breath. I thought he was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. I spent the first night as his neighbor lying in my bed imagining him knocking on my door, inviting himself into my new home, pressing me to the wall, tearing the clothes from my body…

  I ordered my very first
vibrator online the next day.

  Every night since that first one, I imagine him knocking on my door, ripping my clothes from my body, pinning me to the wall, kissing me, spreading my legs, dropping to his knees… I finish every one of these fantasy sessions with my vibrator.

  Tonight, he really did knock on my door.

  And I sent him away. Oh my freaking God, I sent him away.

  What the ever-loving hell is wrong with me?

  I really am an idiot.

  Heart thumping like the bassline at a rave, I push myself to my feet.

  Cross my living room.

  Step out onto my balcony.

  The night air wraps around me, puckering my already-hard nipples into points I desperately want Tal to suck. Silently, I move to the balcony’s edge on bare feet, and close my fingers around its cool brushed-steel railing.

  From the other side of the brick wall dividing my balcony from Tal’s, I hear the faint sound of jazz music playing and the louder chink of ice in a glass.

  My mouth turns dry. Oh boy, he’s there. On the other side of the balcony wall. A mere few feet away. Is he waiting for me? Thinking about me? Or have I fucked it all up and he’s already moved on? I mean, I did reject his offer. How many women would reject the advances of a man like Dr. Bernadi?

  “Tal?”

  My voice is so soft it wouldn’t surprise me if he doesn’t hear it.

  “Tal?” I say again, a little louder this time. Holy hell, I’m shaking. And at the same time, more excited and scared and alive than I’ve ever been. This is what taking control of your life feels like. I’m doing it. Now.

  I clear my throat and lean a little over the railing. “Are you there?”

  “Yes.”

  One word, but it’s enough. Enough to make my knees tremble.

  I lick my lips—when did they get so dry?—and close my eyes. “My door is unlocked.”

  Silence. And then, “Would you like me to—”

  “Yes,” I say. “I would.”

  I hear him place his glass on something hard and solid. A few seconds later, my condo door opens behind me.

  Oh God, he’s here.

  I slowly turn, just in time to see him enter my home, close the door behind him, and stride through my living room.