I’m still shaking when he lifts my hand and places the diaphragm against my wrist. After several seconds, he pulls the stethoscope away and tosses it to the floor. “One fifty,” he says with satisfaction. He pulls out of me and flips me onto my back and then his mouth is on mine and he’s inside me again.

My body is too weak to move and I can’t even open my eyes and watch him. He thrusts against me several times and then holds still, groaning into my mouth. He drops on top of me, tense, yet shaking.

He kisses my neck and then his lips meet the tattoo of the heart on my collarbone. He finally settles against my neck and sighs.

“Have I already mentioned tonight how much I like you?” he asks.

I laugh. “Once or twice.”

“Consider this the third time,” he says. “I like you. Everything about you, Lily. Being inside of you. Being outside of you. Being near you. I like it all.”

I smile, loving how his words feel against my skin. Inside my heart. I open my mouth to tell him I like him, too, but my voice is cut off by the sound of his phone.

He groans against my neck and then pulls out of me and reaches for his phone. He pulls his scrubs back into place and laughs as he looks at his caller ID.

“It’s my mother,” he says, leaning over and kissing the top of my knee that’s resting against the back of the couch. He tosses the phone aside and then stands and walks over to my desk, grabbing a box of tissues.

This is always awkward, having to clean up after sex. But I can’t say it’s ever been this awkward before, knowing his mother is on the other end of that ring.

Once all my clothes are back in place, he pulls me against him on the couch and I lie down on top of him, resting my head on his chest.

It’s after ten now and I’m so comfortable I debate just sleeping here for the night. Ryle’s phone makes another noise, alerting him to a new voice mail. The thought of seeing him interact with his mother makes me smile. Allysa talks about their parents some, but I’ve never really talked to Ryle about them before.

“Do you get along with your parents?”

His arm is stroking mine gently. “Yeah, I do. They’re good people. We hit a rough patch when I was a teenager, but we worked through it. I talk to my mother almost daily now.”

I fold my arms over his chest and rest my chin on them, looking up at him. “Will you tell me more about your mother? Allysa told me they moved to England a few years ago. And that they were in Australia on vacation, but that was like a month ago.”

He laughs. “My mother? Well . . . my mother is very overbearing. Very judgmental, especially of the people she loves the most. She’s never missed a single church service. And I have never heard her refer to my father as anything other than Dr. Kincaid.”