I pass the pub, which means I’m not far from the cottage.
Finally, almost home.
Oh, how I’ve missed you. Nearly two years away, longer when you count university and my residency in London.
I can’t wait to surprise my sister, Lauren. She was devastated when I told her I couldn’t get Christmas off this year. For sisters, we’re close. I think it’s because Mum and Dad were never around, so we only had each other. But, little does she know I was able to switch contracts with one of the other doctors, who had fallen in love with one of the peacekeepers. She couldn’t extend her contract and, lucky for her, I still had six months left on mine, which meant voilà, contracts changed, and I was on the next plane out of there.
It’s funny how determined you are never to follow in your parents’ footsteps, and yet here you are, years later, traveling in the exact same shoes. I decided not to pursue becoming a specialist like them as I wanted to use my skills to help people who really need it. I want to make a difference, and that didn’t go over too well in our household.
“No daughter of mine is going to Africa to work. She wasn't brought up like that.” Those were my father’s words when I told him I said no to a prestigious private hospital who offered me a high-paying job. He was so angry with me until my fiancé told them he was traveling with me, that he wanted to develop our life skills over there, and that it would look good on our resumes when we eventually did come home and took over his family’s practice. My father thought it was the best idea in the world and was fully supportive of us. In the end, that didn’t work out so well for me.
I wind my way up the long driveway to the cottage. It’s pitch black all around, tiny specks of light glow from the houses that dot the inky dark surroundings. White smoke billows out of the cottage’s chimney, twisting its way into the night sky.
Oh, how I’ve missed the smell of a good fireplace. The smoky, woodsy scent, the crackling of the logs as they burn. Many nights were spent sipping hot cocoa in front of its warmth while reading a good book, in your flannel pajamas with Scottie curled up on his mat in front, snoring away. Nan sitting there knitting us beanies and mittens like she did every single year.
My heart is bursting with excitement. I can’t wait to do all those things with my sister this year. But secretly, I’m looking forward to a hot shower, soft bed, comfy pillows, and a huge, snuggly duvet.
Finally here, I jump out of the car, quickly grabbing my bag from the rear seat. I only have the one. You don’t need much when you live in an African refugee camp and wear scrubs all day.
The cold air stings my face. It shocks me. I’ve forgotten how cold Scotland is in the middle of winter. Making a mad dash to the front door with my head down, protecting it from the howling wind, I turn the knob knowing out here no one locks their doors, and push through. Instant warmth hits me as I shake off the remnants of the snow from my coat. I drop my bag on the wooden floor of the foyer, then hang up my winter jacket onto the hook. Rubbing my hands together, my skin comes back to life quickly as feeling returns to my fingers.
I close my eyes and take in the smell of the log fire, the smoke almost tickling my nose. I inhale deeply, taking me back to a time when life wasn’t so damn complicated. My eyes open, and I expect to see my sister, Lauren, rush out and greet me. What I wasn’t expecting was a stranger—a sexy stranger at that—who’s standing in my childhood home, naked.
I take him in.
All of him in.
Oh my.
Wow.
That is impressive.
2
Lilly
“Who the hell are you?” His deeply accented voice echoes through the cottage vibrating deep down into my bones, and most certainly my lady bits. The white towel that he was using to dry his dark, almost black hair drops to the floor in surprise.
My eyes can’t seem to stop scanning every inch of his amazing body, from the deep olive skin, down over each perfectly cut muscle sculptured like some kind of renaissance masterpiece. Are men supposed to look like this? Because I have never seen any so perfectly made before.
My eyes travel further over him, down, down, down to…
Okay, um, what does one do with something like that? I mean I’ve seen dicks before, I’m a doctor, but this one is well, wow. It’s the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen, and we all know there are some ugly dicks out there. But when you stumble upon a prized beast like this, you have to take your time to admire it—this dick deserves admiration. I bet women make a sacrifice to the dick gods when he unwraps himself.
It’s the perfect length. Not too big, not too small, just the right amount of girth, too. Meaty enough to fill you up, but not too much that you think you’re being split in two. There’s a nice even color tone with the perfect amount of veinage. Even his balls are impeccably symmetrical. No one has fucking perfect balls. No one. And, of course, he manscapes. This man cares for his lady friends, he understands what happens when a stray makes an appearance.
Damn! That reminds me, I have an Amazonian jungle covering my lady garden at the moment. I think it might be time for
