Wrong Read online

  "Oh." I need to process that.

  "Are you okay?" We're at a stoplight. He's looking at me. The tiny lines around his eyes are creased in concern. I stare back for a second before I erupt, louder than necessary in the silent car.

  "I can't believe I waxed for that jerk!"

  Luke looks taken aback as the car behind us honks. The light is green.

  "I didn't even do it myself! Because apparently waxing yourself is just not done. Did you know that, Luke? I paid someone to give me a Brazilian wax. Do you know how embarrassing that is? To be spread naked on a table in front of a complete stranger? Do you? Wait." I throw my hands up in surrender. "Of course you do. You're a gynecologist. You see naked women in embarrassing positions all day long."

  I slump in the passenger seat, placing my elbow on the window sill and resting my head on my hand. "Do all women get turned on when you examine them, Luke?" I don't wait for a reply. "Probably not. Even though you're crazy hot and have no right being a gyno, I bet normal women don't get wet when you walk into the room. I bet they don't go home and get themselves off imagining it's your hand instead of their own." He clears his throat, but I'm on a roll. "There's something wrong with me, Luke. I dated a gay guy for two years and now I have a gynecologist fetish." I give up propping my head up and just lean against the window.

  "And I'm a shitty judge of character. I almost gave my virginity to an asshole who was going to record it." I shudder. "Eww." I sit up and twist in my seat towards him. "Do you want it, Luke? Because you can have it." I slide a hand up his thigh until I hit a very noticeable bulge. Hmm, I think someone does want me.

  My hand is promptly removed and set back in my lap. Or not.

  "Exactly how much have you had to drink tonight, Sophie?"

  I cross my arms across my chest, rejected. It's not that far from the restaurants on Chestnut to campus. Luke's been circling the same block while I babbled. "I had a few glasses of wine, but I haven't eaten," I respond defensively. "Someone broke up my date before I had the chance."

  "Which building do you live in?" Luke asks, turning right on Sansom Street as he loops the block again.

  "I live in Jacobsen. Get back to 38th and then take a left on Spruce Street." I sigh, defeated. "Wait! I can't go back to my room! I told my roommate I wasn't coming back tonight. And Everly's in New York." I start to cry and I feel even more stupid than I did before. Tonight has been a storm of expectations, adrenaline and disappointment. I'm overwhelmed. It's fine, I tell myself. Everything will be fine. I can have Luke drop me off at the library. I'll find something to read until closing and then text Jeannie. I can sleep in the dorm lobby if I need to.

  I'm wiping the tears off my face when I realize we've passed Jacobsen and are heading toward the river, away from campus. "Where are we going?" I ask.

  "Home."

  Home? His home? I glance at him, confused.

  "I'll take you to my place until you can reach your roommate." He glances over at me. "Okay?"

  "Yeah. That's fine." I'm silent for a minute. "Thank you." I relax into the seat. The digital clock on the dashboard reads 7:32 pm. I'm tired. A lot has happened in the last two hours. I'm a little buzzed from the wine too, if I'm being honest.

  I have no idea where Luke lives, but we've crossed the river and now we're on 18th Street headed towards Rittenhouse Square. I want to ask, but I don't want to say anything to make him second-guess his decision.

  "The redhead won't be mad?" Oops. Real smooth, Sophie. I chance a quick glance at him and see him smirk.

  "No. She won't mind."

  "She's not your girlfriend then?" Shut up, Sophie! Shut up, shut up, shut up!

  "No, Sophie, she's not."

  "Oh." I really do shut up then. So she's not his girlfriend, but he still rejected me.

  We pass Rittenhouse Square Park on our left and then immediately turn into the parking garage of a high-rise. Luke pulls the car into a numbered space and I hop out as soon as the car is in park. I follow him into an elevator and watch him push the top button for the penthouse. He ignores me, pulling a phone from his pocket and flicking the screen with his thumb. I use the time to observe him. He's wearing gray slacks with a gray sweater. The sweater sleeves are still pushed up to his elbows. Polished black shoes and a chunky watch on his left wrist complete the ensemble.

  He glances up and notices me eyeing him. I look away, embarrassed at being so obvious. Thirty-three floors in this building. The doors open onto a marble landing. I'm silent as Luke unlocks the door and ushers me inside. I follow him down a hallway covered in wide-plank dark hardwood. There's a large round entryway that appears to be the center of the condo. The space has one of those round tables in the middle complete with a vase of fresh flowers in the center. I can see a dining table straight ahead and hallways off the circular space to the left and right. Luke turns left and then right into the kitchen.

  "Sit."

  He doesn't indicate where, so I choose a seat at the island versus the table in front of the windows on the far side of the room. I glance around as he opens and closes cabinet doors. High-end stainless-steel appliances, professionally distressed white cabinets and Carrara marble countertops. It's a gorgeous kitchen. He can't possibly use it. A fact he confirms when he turns to me and asks if I want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or Italian takeout from the place downstairs.

  "Do you have milk?" I ask.

  He does that little smirk-smile of his and nods. "I do."

  "Peanut butter and jelly then," I say, getting up from my seat.

  "Stay." He nods to my seat. "I've got it." He sets a tall glass of cold milk in front of me and slaps two slices of bread on the counter before slathering one side with peanut butter and the other with jelly. I watch him work, intrigued. From the little I've seen of this place, it's enormous. Does he live here alone? Do doctors make this kind of money? I don't think so.

  "Do you own this place?"

  "I do." He lifts an eyebrow.

  "It seems really large for just you." I glance around. "And expensive."

  He shrugs. "The top floor came with this much space. And I like to be on top"—he places my sandwich on a plate and slides it over to me—"Sophie."

  Okay. That was a definite sexual innuendo. This guy is all over the place, or a tease.

  His phone rings and he glances at it before answering with a terse, "Dr. Miller."

  I take a bite and listen to his end of the conversation.

  "I'll be there in twenty minutes." He finishes the call and places the cell back in his pocket. "I have to run to the hospital and check on a patient. Make yourself at home. There's a television in the family room." He points to a door on the left. "I should be back in a couple of hours."

  "A couple of hours?" I ask, surprised. "Don't babies take longer than that?"

  "I don't normally deliver the babies, Sophie." He walks around the granite island and pauses in front of me. "I hate to burst your gynecologist fetish bubble, but I'm a reproductive endocrinologist." He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and his fingers caress the edge.

  I try not to react. Because I want to. I want to lean in and kiss his palm. I want to beg him to do so much more.

  "My job is to get the patient pregnant, then I hand them off to an obstetrician."

  "So you specialize in knocking women up?"

  "Yeah. Rich women or women with great health insurance." He taps the tip of my nose. "Not college students."

  "I'm not looking to get knocked up."

  "Good. Now finish your sandwich and sober up so I can take you home."

  His footsteps fade and the front door clicks shut.

  I place my empty plate and glass in the dishwasher before walking into the adjoining family room with the television Luke mentioned. I look around. This place is decorated like an expensive model home. I don't see any indication that anyone really lives here. No magazines or stray mugs on the end tables. I'm not really interested in watching TV, I'm interested in a house tour. />
  Exiting the family room through a door that connects back to the hallway, I find a study. This room looks lived in. He spends time in here—I can smell his cologne lingering in the air. The walls are lined in books. Mainly medical, but there's a few crime mysteries too. Not a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey anywhere, sadly. There's a Mac set up on the desk and some stray pens and paperwork scattered across it.

  I leave the study and cross the circular center point of the condo. Skipping a massive formal living and dining room, I follow the dark hardwood floor back towards the front door. There's a hallway to the left and right of the front door. I investigate the space to the left first. Three virtually identical bedrooms with their own adjoining baths. They're all empty. As in, completely empty. The same hardwood floor runs wall to wall in each. Not a bed, dresser or hanger in the closets.

  The hallway to the right of the door leads me to a massive coat closet and laundry room. I pass both in favor of the door at the end, the master bedroom. There's a walk-in closet the size of my dorm room on my left. It's empty. This is starting to get a little creepy. He does live here, right? He didn't just abandon me in a vacant condo. No, his office looked lived in. I continue and find an even larger walk-in closet across from the master bath. This closet is filled. Rows of neatly organized suits and shirts. Shelves of sweaters and racks of polished shoes.

  The bathroom could accommodate a dozen college students, but there's only a vanity for two, an enormous oval tub and a walk-in shower. The entire room is spotless, save for a can of shave cream and a razor on the vanity.

  Back in the bedroom there's an area rug covering the hardwood, centering the room and surrounding the massive king-sized bed. I walk back to the bed and open the nightstand drawer. Empty. I cross to the other side, closest to the bathroom, and open that one. Condoms. I sit on the edge of the bed. So he lives in this massive space and uses two rooms of it. A place a doctor could not afford, department head at the hospital or not.

  I liked Luke better when he was less confusing, when he was just Luke who flirted subtly with me while buying coffee. That's not true—I like this Luke too. The one who watches out for me and rescues me from a disastrous ending to my date and makes me a sandwich. I like him. I don't like the mixed signals he sends, but I like him.

  This bed is really comfortable and I want nothing more than to lie down and close my eyes, so after removing my boots, I do. I can't get comfortable though, so I stand up and strip off my jeans and sweater and climb under the sheets. This bed is heavenly. I hit the light and snuggle into the pillow that smells of Luke. I don't care if he finds me here in my underwear, asleep. I'm tired of his confusing behavior and besides, he's already seen me in less.

  Chapter 13

  I awaken and look at the bedside clock. It's just past eleven. The house is dark and I need to use the bathroom. The air is chilly when I slip out from under the covers, so I wrap a throw from the bed around me as I walk. I make use of the facilities and then wipe off the mascara that's flaked off during my nap and, finding some mouthwash, rinse my mouth before walking back to the bed.

  I thought he'd be back by now. I consider lying down again, but I'm wide awake. Maybe I'll watch TV, or find a book in the study. I turn and jump a foot. "Jesus, Luke!"

  He's sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room, wide awake, just watching me.

  "I was watching you sleep." I love his voice. It's so smooth and deep and embodies control.

  "You're a little creepy, you know that?" I ask.

  He shrugs. "I come home to find your clothes in a pile on the floor and you asleep in my bed. What should I have done, Sophie?"

  I walk towards him. "Joined me?" I suggest.

  He smiles at that. "You're twenty-one."

  "Yeah." I stop in front of him. "Three years past legal."

  "You're a virgin."

  "Yeah." That stings. Am I not experienced enough for him? "You want me to come back when I know what I'm doing?" Tears prick at my eyes. I am so sick of the rejection. I toss the throw at him and walk back to my clothes. "Take me home, Luke. I'm sure I can find someone on campus to spend the night with," I say, picking my sweater off the floor. "Believe it or not, plenty of guys on campus would be happy to fuck me without so much conversation about it."

  When I stand up he's behind me, his hands on my shoulders. He slides my bra straps over my shoulders before unsnapping it.

  "Shut up, Sophie. I don't want to hear another word out of your flippant mouth about you sleeping with some idiot boy on campus. You want me to fuck you, sweetheart? Is that what you want?"

  "Yeah." I tilt my head back onto his shoulder. "It is."

  "I'm not going to call you in the morning." He's sliding my panties down my legs. "I'm not that guy."

  "Okay," I agree.

  Holy shit. This is happening. I am finally going to have sex. Luke is not rejecting me again. He’s not my gay boyfriend. He’s not my jerk boyfriend. He’s real and this is happening, right now.

  He's bent behind me, pulling the panties free from my ankles before placing his hands on my hips and kissing the curve of my back where it meets my behind. His hands slide lower to cup my ass and his thumbs spread out, caressing me. "Perfect little ass." He's raining kisses over my behind as he speaks. "Do you have any idea how much I've enjoyed eyeing this ass when you turn around to fill my coffee every week?"

  I assume his question is rhetorical and remain quiet until he smacks my behind hard with his open palm. "Answer me."

  I feel a rush of wetness in my pussy from the slap. What the hell? Why does that make me wet? My ass is still stinging where he smacked me. "No, I didn't know you were thinking about my ass." It's a little hard getting the words out, I'm so distracted by everything. His mouth, his hands, the pressure building between my legs. "I didn't think you even remembered my name week to week. I assumed you were just reading my name tag."

  His thumbs pinch into my butt cheeks and spread them as he licks up the crease of my ass. Oh my God.

  He turns me so I'm facing him. "Sit." He's pressing on the top of my thighs till my butt hits the edge of the bed. "Cup your tits, Sophie." I do, immediately. They're warm in my own hands, full, my nipples hard. Luke spreads my thighs and moves between them. "Pinch your nipples, play with them." Our eyes lock as I obey.

  "I seem to recall you mentioning a fascination with my fingers earlier," he says as he runs his index finger down my crease.

  "Oh, God." I flop back onto the bed, mortified that he's bringing that up, and focus my eyes on the ceiling. But I don't let go of my breasts, continuing to caress them as he talks.

  "Is it a fascination with my hands as a whole?" He slides both palms under my thighs and caresses them up and down before lifting my legs until my knees are bent and my feet are on the edge of the bed, parallel to my bottom, then he pushes outward so I'm splayed open in front of him. "Or is it a fascination with a specific finger?" He places the tip of a finger inside my entrance and rims the opening. "Or is it my thumb, Sophie?" His breath is hot against my skin as he speaks. "Do you imagine my thumb in your ass as I fuck you from behind?" His thumb is moving across my tightened bud. "Which is it, Sophie? Which of those things did you fantasize about?"

  He slaps my pussy, splayed open in front of him, hard. I moan as I feel my own wetness leak out of me. "What did I tell you about answering me?" he demands. "What did you think about when you got yourself off?"

  "I thought about all of it," I admit. "Except the thumb thing, that never occurred to me. But I'm open to it," I add.

  "You filthy girl," he murmurs, before I feel his hands under my thighs again, holding me open as his tongue makes a long wet swipe over my pussy. My thighs tighten reflexively but he's got me pinned open and rims my asshole with his tongue too.

  "Luke!"

  He laughs and circles my clit with the tip of his finger, around and around. I can feel more wetness pooling as he moves the tip of his finger inside of me and repeats the rimming motion, stretching m
e with his fingertip. His tongue travels back to my clit and he circles around the bundle of nerves until I think I will go insane. "I like this pussy bare, Sophie," he says between circles. I'm whimpering and making all sorts of crazy sounds that would mortify me if I had any control right now. "So naughty." His mouth covers my entire mound and I about lose my mind. "If I was keeping you I'd keep this pussy naked and filled with my dick every day. Did you wonder if I could get you off using just my finger?" He's pinching my clit between his finger and thumb as he talks.

  "I didn't wonder about that, I was really confident you could," I manage to respond, but I sound like I just sprinted up a flight of stairs.

  He slides his finger inside of me and then out, sliding two back in. "Fuck." He sounds gruff. "You feel so good." He slides his fingers out, then in, then widens them, stretching me. "You're so fucking tight, I can't wait to slide my cock inside of you." He slides his fingers in again, then back out, this time adding his thumb to my clit. "So wet. I wanted to finger the fuck out of you on my exam table. Is that what you want to hear? That I was as affected as you were?"

  "Yes."

  "I had to fight an erection when you came on my finger during the exam. That was a definite first for me Sophie.” “Sorry about that,” I manage to gasp out, my back arching on the bed. “I'm going to fuck you hard, Sophie." He's stroking his fingers in and out. A second later he slams the two fingers back in and curves them as his thumb rubs my clit and I explode. Holy fuck. His fingers continue their magic through my orgasm as he kisses the inside of my thighs.

  That was the most intense orgasm of my life. I thought I had orgasms before, when I got myself off, but those were a joke in comparison to what Luke just did to me. I'm still feeling aftershocks rippling through me in waves.

  He stands, leaning over me and resting his weight on his hands on either side of me as his mouth fastens around a nipple. I arch my back off the bed. These sensations are too much. I want to push him away and grasp him closer all at the same time.