I Wanna Sext You Up

by Evie Claire

  Lorie cocked her head to the side. How did he know what perfume she wore?

  “I could never regret you, Lorie. Never in a million years forget you, either. I may not know much, but I know this feels different.”

  “I don’t care about Monday.” Lorie stepped into him, placing a finger over his lips. “I only care about you. And me. And tonight.” Her head fell back, looking up at the ceiling. Saam landed a kiss at the dip between her collarbones, and the chills that flew over her were the only answer she needed. “I see life as a series of lines. It’s always been about which side I think I should be on. No one has ever blurred the lines for me the way you do. I don’t know why that is. But I know I want the chance to figure it out.”

  Were her words too thirsty? Probably. Because the ache he caused inside her was clawing up her throat, desperate to get to him. Forgetting all the other reasons, she held on to the exquisite pain burning its way toward the only thing that could satisfy it. Nothing else mattered.

  Her head fell forward to meet the kisses he trailed up her neck. She pushed out of his arms, pulled the remaining wet clothes from her body, and stood before him, in all her former bathing suit competition glory. He gasped. She smiled and shrugged then crooked her finger, calling him closer.

  Pressing against him, searing flesh to sizzling skin, she looped her thumbs over the hem of his running shorts and urged them lower. Bending, teasing him with her nipples, she arched her back so they trailed down the length of him until the shorts gave up and fell the remaining distance to the floor. Taking him in her palm she stood back up and started stroking—up and down, up and down. Slowly. Torturously.

  “The thing is…I don’t break rules. But you’ve made me.” Feeling him stiffen under her touch, she slid her hands to his shoulders and pushed gently. Under her spell, incapable of hesitation, he fell backward onto the couch. He settled into position, his eyes going dark navy as he looked up at her.

  Slowly, liquidly, she moved over him with feline grace. One knee landed beside his thigh. Intentionally, she arched her chest into his face and brought her other leg up and over into position on the other side. As she straddled him, she leaned over and whispered in his ear, “We better make sure this is worth it, right?”

  His face slackened, his lips parting and inching to hers, hopelessly lost in the curve of her small but dangerous smile. Was he powerless to resist a woman unashamedly taking what she wanted?

  His answer lay in his hand, the way he grasped her hips–holding her so tightly they might never let go.

  It was the perfect level of pain, restraint, and desire—a leisurely pace as her thigh muscles loosened and she lowered herself onto him. Each inch relished, appreciated, devoured. They braced themselves as they came together, desperate for more of what they’d tasted below the waters of Sugar Lake, but both also knowing the stakes were higher now. She arched back, taking him as deeply as she could and thrusting her breasts forward. He took her nipple in his mouth, sucking, teasing. Her mouth found his and they found their rhythm. It was hungry. It was desperate.

  It was everything a girl needed to forget herself.

  Chapter 16

  Lorie

  If someone pulled her skin away, stuck a frayed electrical cord to her central nervous system, and plugged it in, Lorie would have understood the discomfort racing through her body that Sunday evening. Her emotions were in a tailspin.

  She poured a second glass of wine, filling it fuller than normal and wondering if she should call to see if Phebe was free to join her. Lorie found her phone, pulled up her text chain with Phebe, but then thought better of it. Phebe wouldn’t understand her weakness. She tossed her phone on the couch and huffed loudly.

  “Argh…” Pulling at her face, she flopped down on the couch, juggling her wineglass to save every drop. She needed it.

  There wasn’t a single second of last night she regretted. That was the problem. Usually, indulging a desire satisfied the craving. With Saam, she only wanted more.

  He made her change her rules. Last night, she’d rewritten every one. And while their chemistry was off the charts, what she’d found in his arms was way more than pheromones. How much more, she wasn’t sure.

  Lorie swallowed another yawn and brought the wine to her lips. Her emotions were raw. Her body was drained. Plus, there hadn’t been an opportunity to say goodbye to Saam that afternoon. Without a proper goodbye, things felt so undone.

  She picked up her phone from the cushion it had landed on. Checking it again.

  She could text.

  Light and breezy—Sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye. Had fun last night. But every time she started to type, her heart hammered against her ribs. If she initiated contact, she had to go with it. Stick it out, see where things ended up. It had only been twenty-two hours since she’d eaten his Oreos. Much too soon to trust her urges.

  Again, she tossed the phone aside and sat, staring blankly and contemplating. When her phone chimed, she leapt so quickly to get it that wine sloshed over the rim and ran down her hand.

  Saam: Where did you go? We never said goodbye.

  Lorie inhaled slowly and relaxed into the pillow. Sweet relief washed over her. Relief that things weren’t getting weird…yet…but also relief that she was obviously on his mind.

  “Light and breezy,” she reminded herself, watching a full minute tick off the clock before she dared click her cursor into the response line. Didn’t want to seem too eager.

  Lorie: Sorry. End of camp is always crazy. Are you back in town?

  Saam: Yes. Just got something to eat.

  Slightly giddy, she fell onto the couch and tucked her feet up under her. One, two, three…

  Lorie: Yeah, I was pretty famished this morning too…

  Lorie:

  Lorie:

  Saam: Same. I’ve been craving pizza all day.

  Saam: And Oreos.

  Saam: And you.

  Saam:

  Lorie’s reaction was audible—the nasally whistling sound made when emotions peak and you can’t shriek with joy because the smile plastered over your face makes speech impossible.

  Lorie: You’re speaking my love language.

  The moment she hit send she froze. Shit. Was that too much? Too fast? She was joking, of course, but it was still a dropped L-bomb. Quickly she added another text.

  Lorie:

  Lorie:

  She paused when something else came to mind. Should she? Dare she? Why not? The rules were already broken.

  Lorie:

  Saam: My thoughts exactly

  Saam: Where are you?

  Lorie: Drinking wine on my couch.

  Saam: Perfect. Tho u should prob put down your wine.

  Lorie: ?

  Saam: You’re going to need both hands…

  Lorie’s stomach fell to her toes. How could her body stand another round? How could she resist?

  Lorie: Done.

  Saam: Go to your bedroom.

  Saam: Open your bedside table drawer.

  Lorie: What am I looking for?

  Saam: You know what you keep in there.

  Lorie: How do *you* know what I keep in there?

  Saam: I can tell you like sex.

  Lorie: I like sex with you.

  Saam: Then pull your pants down.

  Lorie did as she was told.

  Saam: Lay down. Spread your legs. Pretend your fingers are my tongue…slowly trailing over your nipples.

  Saam: Your rock-hard nipples.

  Saam: I’m gently sucking them, and then my kisses trace down your belly.

  Saam: What do you do?

  Lorie: I fist your hair, because you’re teasing me. And then push you down where I want you.

  Lorie: Until your face is between my legs.

  Lorie: Your ton
gue reaches out, parting my lips to taste me.

  Saam: And then my fingers join them.

  Saam: Tasting you, searching you.

  Saam: Finding the spot that makes you go wild.

  Saam: And I stay right there, teasing you, driving you crazy.

  Saam: Stroking

  Saam: Licking

  Saam: Sucking

  Saam: Until…

  Lorie fell back into the pillows, her body on fire. The vibrator in her hand the only thing capable of putting it out. With memories of Saam still fresh in her mind, she lost herself in his words. His tongue. His hands. His fingers. The exquisite weight of him covering her.

  It didn’t take long. Her body so desperate for what it craved, she came for him. And just in case he needed proof, once she finished, she snapped a picture of her thighs still clinging to the dildo in her hand and fired it off. Before she had a chance to think better of it.

  Lorie: Until I come for you. So hard it almost hurts.

  It was another minute before her phone chimed again. She located it in the sheets and found a picture waiting. Saam’s hand wrapped around the only thing that was more satisfying than her dildo. Not exactly a dick pic, but enough for her to know he was doing exactly what she was.

  Lorie:

  Saam: You are so damn sexy…

  Lorie: #same

  Saam: Sweet dreams

  Of you, Lorie thought, but didn’t dare text. Instead, she tossed her phone on the bedside table, eased the drawer shut, and rolled onto her side. What the hell was she doing?

  Chapter 17

  Saam

  He couldn’t get his mind right. Headstands, running, patient appointments stacked one after another, a looming work trip to pack for—nothing worked. Which only reminded Saam why he didn’t date. It was a distraction. His patients deserved his undivided attention. Anything less was sloppy.

  “Don’t forget your lunch meeting with the Children’s Hospital board,” his nurse mentioned casually when he exited his last patient room for the morning.

  “Shit,” he mumbled under his breath, checking the time. As if he needed anything to prove exactly how disordered he was.

  “You’ve got plenty of time, if you leave now. It’s”—his nurse consulted her schedule—“in the main boardroom.”

  “Right, thanks.” Saam stepped into his office long enough to swap his lab coat for a sport coat and tore out of a back door across the lush grassy campus shared by Atlanta Children’s Hospital and Mercy Medical. He coasted through the meeting room’s double doors just as a falling gavel brought the group to order.

  “Dr. Sherazi, welcome,” the board’s chairman greeted him. “I’m so glad you made it. You are our first order of business.”

  “Am I?” Saam took his seat. Looking around to orient himself with the room. Why exactly was he on the to-do list today?

  “Yes. The nursing staff in our endocrinology department has brought several outdated patient protocols to our attention. If memory serves, this is an area of interest for you, correct?”

  “Yes, very much.” Saam nodded.

  “Would you be willing to take point on reviewing and, if needed, updating the hospital protocols for admission, in-house care, and discharge for our diabetic care team? Most specifically, the nurses have asked for more support for the newly diagnosed type 1 diabetic patients.”

  Saam leaned into his chair, slightly taken aback by what he assumed was a huge honor. He’d only been on the board a short time. And now this?

  “Absolutely.” Saam nodded again, more resolutely this time, as he took the file an assistant brought over.

  “All in favor of Dr. Saam Sherazi taking point on new diabetic protocols, say ‘aye.’ ”

  There was a chorus of “ayes” and the gavel fell to make it official.

  Saam opened the file, thumbing through stacks of papers, skimming the hospital’s current procedures for treating diabetic patients, immediately seeing a few changes that would streamline treatments and provide more cohesive care. A sheet near the back caught his attention.

  Why was a cutting-edge hospital sending newly diagnosed type 1 diabetics and their caretakers home with old-fashioned syringes and a vile of insulin? Even if it was cost-effective, the point was to treat the patient, not add stress to their life.

  “Excuse me.” Saam lifted a hand to get the chairman’s attention.

  “Yes, Dr. Sherazi?”

  “As usual, the nurses are right. This standard of care is antiquated.” He tapped his fingertips on the folder he’d set on the table. “How quickly do you anticipate integrating changes?”

  The chairman looked to the hospital CEO for guidance.

  The man cleared his throat. “I will speak with the nurse manager, but if everyone is in agreement on changes, I have no problem with them going into effect immediately. This is why the hospital has a physicians’ board.”

  It was a huge responsibility that had been placed on Saam’s shoulders. One he didn’t take lightly. But for the first time all day, his mind was finally back on medicine.

  Chapter 18

  Lorie

  Lorie sat in her car in an office parking lot, trying to analyze sales data for her next call. Only she’d reread the row of numbers five times. And her brain wasn’t any closer to absorbing it than it had been on the first go-round.

  She checked her phone. Nothing. Closed out every app. Waited. Nothing. Fired off a text to Liza just to be sure it was working.

  Lorie: Have you called/texted today? My phone is acting weird.

  Liza: Nope. My Monday is insane in the membrane!

  Lorie: LOL. Me, too.

  Okay, so it wasn’t her phone.

  It was him.

  Or was it her?

  Thirty-six hours without contact and she was acting like a total weirdo-stalker.

  He was working. He had patients to see. They were the priority during business hours. He’d made that clear. It was definitely her.

  She calmed herself and turned back to her computer.

  When her phone finally chimed, she startled, smacking her head against the window when she whipped around to check it.

  Of course, it wasn’t him. Silly of her to even think it would be. Instead, she found a group text from her Durden teammates.

  Quinn: You guys seen the sales numbers that just downloaded?

  Allen: I’m looking at it right now.

  Allen: Big bump. Who is it coming from?

  Quinn: Digging right now.

  Lorie: Downloading right now.

  Kate: Stuck in an office.

  Lorie activated her personal hotspot and logged in to Durden’s sales portal, downloading a waiting file. She drummed her nails nervously against the steering wheel as she waited. They were so close to posting sales numbers that would assure them access into the President’s Sales Circle. So close.

  Lorie: Tell me again what we win if we’re #1?

  Allen: Jamaica trip & $$$

  Quinn: $25k bonus last year

  Lorie: DAAAAAMN

  Her computer chirped, signaling the completion of the file transfer. Lorie’s palms started sweating. What were the odds?

  Lampalin, in addition to holding its normal numbers, had added roughly ten new prescriptions in their territory for the week. Sales numbers were delayed, which meant the recorded week was actually two weeks ago. Lorie’s mouth dried, and she swallowed against a sinking feeling.

  Scrolling past the first few pages of doctors’ prescribing data on the alphabetical list, she went straight to the S’s, found Saam’s name, and clapped a hand over her mouth.

  Shit.

  Quinn: It’s Sherazi?

  Allen: Dude wrote SEVEN new scripts last week.

  Lorie: Wow.

  Her fingers trembl
ed as she typed.

  Quinn: L, have you been able to see him again?

  Lorie’s stomach flipped, and she swallowed at the sandpaper that had replaced her tongue.

  Lorie: Yes. He’s a research-driven prescriber.

  Allen: Well, he’s all yours. I’m banned.

  Kate: I’m ignored

  Quinn: I’m Voldemorted

  Allen: L, if we don’t make Jamaica, it’s your fault.

  Allen: LOL. JK

  Allen: Srsly, tho. Keep it up.

  Lorie stared at the name on her computer screen.

  Dr. Saam Sherazi

  Her stomach disappeared and her armpits dampened. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

  Lorie: I’ll do my best.

  Breathe, she told herself, closing out her phone and letting her head fall against the headrest. Two weeks ago, when he’d written Lampalin, Saam was still a wet dream. Yes, she’d crossed about a million lines, but surely, she wasn’t the only person ever in the history of line-crossing to accomplish such a feat. Drug reps dating doctors was a cliché for a reason—it had happened before. The only question she really needed an answer to was: What now?

  Her phone chimed again. The hope that swelled her chest earlier migrated south and felt a hell of a lot like dread circling her belly button.

  Kate: FYI—Sherazi is out of the office the rest of this week. Medical conference.

  The phone slipped to her lap. She gripped the wheel in front of her, staring into the vast expanse of blacktop outside her windshield.

  Medical conference.

  Okay. That was a legit excuse. It afforded her peace of mind over why Saam hadn’t—and probably wouldn’t—find the time to send a simple hi, how’s your day her way.

  “Medical conference,” she breathed into the muffled silence of her front seat. “He’s at a medical conference.” It should’ve put all her worries to bed. Instead, it became something else for her to obsess over. Because given their weekend…activities…why was she the last to know where Saam was?

  * * *