Chapter 2: Accidental Doctor Daddy: Chapter 2

She didn’t look back.

Not once.

Not even one of those flirty, over-the-shoulder glances women throw when they want you to follow.

But not her.

Ella just picked up her bag and walked straight into the warm, moonlit breeze like she had something to prove. Like she hadn’t just lit me up with a smile, spilled bourbon down my front, and made me hard in under five minutes flat.

What the fuck just happened?

I sat there, still holding my drink, watching her bare legs disappear down the beach path like they hadn’t just wrapped themselves around every one of my thoughts.

She was curvy in the way men dream about—soft, round hips made to grip, full thighs that promised heaven, and a plush mouth that looked like sin incarnate.

Her sundress clung to her like it had been stitched in place, and when she moved, it swayed over her ass like a goddamn invitation. She walked like she didn’t know what she was carrying. Or maybe she knew exactly what she had and was trying not to be noticed.

Too late. I’d noticed.

But it wasn’t just her body that made me sit up straighter.

It was the energy.

This low hum of something guarded. Wounded. That quiet, flirty deflection she gave me at the bar had weight to it—like it was built over something raw and still healing.

She was nursing a broken heart.

I’d bet my Rolex on it.

She was also way too young for me.

And while I should’ve left her alone—chalked this up to bad timing and sat my ass back down with a new drink—I didn’t.

I wasn’t used to being brushed off. I was older—I got that. But I wasn’t exactly unpracticed when it came to reading a woman’s interest. And that look she gave me at the bar? That breathless little “yes” before she shut herself down?

That wasn’t indifference.

She wasn’t just beautiful. She was a mystery. A challenge wrapped in curves and contradictions. And I’d never been good at walking away from something that intrigued me.

I tossed back the last of my gin and tonic, stood up, and brushed the sand from my shorts. My shirt was still damp, clinging to me where she’d spilled that cocktail—but I didn’t give a shit.

She’d walked away.

So I was going to follow.

The beach was quiet where she’d gone—farther down from the bar, where the torches thinned between the palm trees and the only light came from the moon rippling across the waves.

I spotted her silhouette ahead, the hem of her dress catching the breeze like it wanted to misbehave.

God, she was stunning.

I caught up slowly, not wanting to spook her.

“Thought you said goodnight,” I called, my voice easy, low.

She turned, just enough for her profile to catch the moonlight. “I did.”

I gave a lazy shrug. “Didn’t sound very convincing.”

She looked at me for a long beat, lips twitching. “What are you doing, Dom?”

“Walking.”

“With me?”

“If you’ll have me.”

A soft laugh. “You always this persistent?”

“Only when I see something I really want.”

That earned me a look—half skeptical, half intrigued.

“Tell me,” she said, “is this your thing? Hit on younger women in paradise and hope they say yes before they sober up?”

I grinned. “Sweetheart, I don’t need paradise to get a yes. But I’ll admit the moonlight helps.”

She snorted and kept walking, but she didn’t tell me to leave. So I kept pace beside her, hands in my pockets, sand soft under my feet.

“How young are we talking, anyway?” I asked.

“Too young for you,” she said, teasing.

I glanced over. “You sure about that?”

She bit her lip, and for a second, I caught something behind her eyes—hesitation. Curiosity. Want.

“Let me guess,” she said. “You’re a lawyer or a hedge fund guy. Maybe real estate. Something alpha and stressful.”

“Wrong on all three counts,” I said easily. “But I like the alpha part.”

She cocked a brow. “So what do you do?”

I hesitated.

Not because I was ashamed of it—just the opposite. But this felt different, and I didn’t want to bring real life into it. Not yet.

“Let’s just say I’m on a break,” I said. “Needed to get out of the city. Clear my head.”

She looked at me, a little longer this time. Like she was trying to decide if I was full of shit or just complicated.

“You’re not the only one,” she said softly.

There it was again—that flicker of vulnerability beneath all her sass and bite. The part she was hiding. The reason she’d walked away even when her eyes begged me not to let her.

“You here with anyone?” I asked.

“No.”

“Running from someone?”

Her gaze flicked to mine, flirtation dancing on the edges of her mouth. “Maybe.”

God, that smile. Half a dare, half a defense. She was dangerous in the best way—soft in all the right places and armored in sarcasm. The kind of woman who could make a man forget his rules.

I took a step closer, then another. Her breath caught, and she didn’t move away.

I pressed a hand to her lower back and gently guided her off the path, through the curve of two swaying palms until we were half-hidden by a thick stand of trees. The music from the bar had faded to a distant thump, the beach now nothing but silver sand and shadows.

The moment I had her tucked into the shadows, I turned, backing her against the rough trunk of a tall palm tree.

Her back hit bark. My hands came down on either side of her head.

“Here’s the thing,” I murmured, lowering my voice. “You can walk away. And I won’t chase you again.”

Her chest rose sharply. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No,” I said, leaning in, breath teasing her ear. “It’s just a warning.”

Her breath hitched.

“I’m not trying to pressure you,” I added. “But you walked into that bar like a fucking storm, Ella. And I haven’t been able to think straight since.”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

“I don’t know who hurt you,” I said, softer now. “But the way you looked at me back there… like you forgot how it feels to be wanted? That stuck with me.”

Her lips parted, eyes glossy.

“I don’t want to fix you,” I continued. “But I’ll make you forget him. Just for one night. Every cruel word he said. Every time he made you feel like too much or not enough. I’ll take all of that and fuck it out of your system.”

She made a small sound, something between a gasp and a broken whimper.

“I’ll replace those memories with my hands on your skin,” I said, voice like a promise. “With your name on my tongue while you come apart in my mouth. I want you to remember what it feels like to be craved.”

“You don’t even know me,” she whispered.

I brought my hand to her cheek, thumb brushing across her flushed skin. “No, but I see you.”

She swallowed hard.

“I want to be the man who reminds you how fucking powerful you are,” I said, breath hot against her lips. “You think you’re broken? Then let me put you back together the only way I know how.”

She didn’t answer right away.

Her eyes dropped to my chest, then to the sand between us, like she was weighing something heavy. A war waged behind those lashes—desire and doubt, need and self-protection. I could feel it in the way her breath caught, in the way her grip faltered for just a second.

“I don’t do this,” she whispered, barely audible.

I tilted her chin up gently, forcing her to meet my gaze.

“Maybe tonight, you should.”

Her lips parted, but she didn’t speak.

I leaned in, voice low and rough. “You want to know what I’d do if you came to my room?” I whispered, grazing her lips with mine. “First, I’d peel that dress off slowly. I’d want to see it fall. Want to watch you step out of it like you’re stepping into fire.”

Her thighs pressed together, hips shifting ever so slightly.

“I’d run my hands up those gorgeous legs and feel how wet you are already—how badly you need to be touched.”

She whimpered.

“Then I’d get on my knees. Right in front of you. My mouth on your pussy until you forget every single man who didn’t know what the fuck he was doing.”

I braced one hand beside her head and lowered the other to rest on her hip, thumb brushing bare skin beneath the hem of her dress.

“I’d suck your clit until you’re crying my name. Make you come on my tongue. Twice. Maybe three times if I’m feeling generous.”

“Jesus,” she breathed.

“And then,” I growled, lips inches from hers, “when your legs can’t hold you up anymore, I’d fuck you so deep and so slow, you’d swear I was the only man you’ve ever had.”

Her hands grabbed fistfuls of my shirt. Her body was shaking, eyes wild and blown wide.

“You’d beg for more,” I whispered, “and I wouldn’t stop until I knew you wouldn’t walk straight tomorrow.”

We stayed like that for a beat—panting, eyes locked, hearts pounding.

Then her hand slid into mine.

“Okay,” she whispered, voice wrecked and raw. “One night.”

I didn’t smile.

Didn’t need to.

I just took her hand, laced our fingers tight, and led her straight toward the fire I already knew we’d set together.