Second Chance With Dr. Dreamy

Chapter Two

Ninas pov

That kiss in Daniel’s office had been a mistake, but God, it had been a good one. That spark, it burned on my lips for days, a reckless fire that ignited each time I saw him. Daniel and I had been getting into a secret rhythm at the Hospital, sneaking furtive meetings that took my breath away. In a crowded hall, his blue eyes would meet mine, a silent promise that would make my heart race. His ambush hugs in empty stairwells, strong arms hugged tightly around me, felt like rebellion against the hospital’s whispering pool and Selene’s poisoned tongue. Little kisses, pecked on my forehead or lips while no one was looking. Our late night conversations over coffee in the break room were a soul stripping experience — his fears for his kids, my desire for a world beyond these walls. I was hooked on every hit, every moment was a drug.

Daniel came to my apartment that evening, an oasis from New York’s madness. He sat on my couch, his navy blue sweater hugging his broad shoulders. We laughed over wine, sharing stories — his passion for jazz, my childhood summers at the shore — until his hand brushed mine. The air crackled, electric. His mouth found mine, pressing a cautious kiss that soon became a ravenous one, his tongue tormenting mine with a desperation that stole my breath. I grabbed his hair, which felt coarse under my fingers, and yanked him closer, my lines crackled with longing.

“Nina,” he muttered impatiently into my mouth, his voice thick with need, “You’re making me crazy.” His hands skimmed my waist, pulling me onto his lap. I groaned as our bodies connected and all the heat collected below in my belly. His kisses became firmer, a touch desperate when he bit my lower lip. I pulled at his sweater, wanting more of him and he tore it off, muscles taught, hard, begging to be touched. Thick fingers followed the line of my chest, pressing against the beat of my heart as they did, while rough palms cupped my waist and slid beneath the hem of my blouse, pressing into my belly, slightly stretching it, as he pulled it over my head. There was agony in every touch, a slow burn that had me aching.

His lips skated down my neck, sucking lightly and then harder. I groaned, pressing my ass against him, my fingers working his belt. “Not yet,” he whispered, a gleam in his eyes. He held my arms above my head and kissed his way down my collarbone, stopped at the dip of my breast. His tongue dragged over sensitive skin, taunting until I squirmed and a desperate whimper escaped me. “Daniel, please,” I cried, my voice hoarse. He smiled and let go of my wrists and slid my jeans down, dragging his fingers up my legs at a blasé pace. I brought him back to me, pushing my lips against his in a violent kiss, clacking teeth as another sound of a zipper being unlocked reached my ears, and I pulled open his pants to release him. I shivered as he uttered a low groan.

We tripped our way into my room, hands, half removed clothes, frantic disarray, tumbling onto the sheets. Daniel’s look raked across me, filled with lust, as I lay beneath him exposed. “You’re perfect,” he whispered. Then he was on me, and his body was a scalding weight. His kisses seared up and down my skin and then they made it far, and just when I was quivering my fingernails into his shoulders they were teasing. He entered me, finally, slowly, his movement sure and deliberate, and I cried out as he stretched me, the pressure overwhelming. His first thrust was a surge of pleasure, hard and inexorable, and each stroke created a chant that swallowed us both. I was clamping my legs around him, pushing him faster and he was groaning whilst I moaned. The bed groaned under us, the room alive with our harsh breaths, the smack of flesh, the urgent desire urging each thrust. I was lost in him, the world dissolving into nothing.

Then we stretched out tangled, slippery and panting with sweat, his arm heavy over my waist. The silence was sacred and our breath synchronized as we traded gentle smiles. Daniel pushed himself up. “Nina, I have something to say to you.” My heart stuttered. “I loved you first. Before the kiss tonight. I’ve loved you for so long.”

His words came crashing. “Daniel,” I breathed, tears stinging my eyes, “I’ve loved you for so long. I never expected you to respond in kind.” He kissed me, soft and deep, covering my face with his hand. I needed to say more, to spill all the hopes I’d buried, but his phone buzzed on the nightstand, sharp against the air. “Goddamn,” he muttered, studying it, face turning hard. “Ambulance emergency,” he added, already backing away. “I have to go.”

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I was still floating, my heart dizzy from Daniel’s admission, that evening. His simple phrase — “I loved you first” — reverberated through my brain and his words enfolded me in a warmth that seems more like a dream. I was curled up on my couch, fairy lights glowing and, beneath the giddiness, a knot of worry twisting in my gut. What did this mean for us? Could we ever truly make a future? I clutched at the throw pillow in an attempt not to lose my grasp on the joy, and then a loud knock had me sitting upright, my pulse kicking.

The knock came again, a sharp, urgent sound rapping at the door. My heart raced as I stole towards and looked through the peephole. Two little figures stood outside, pale in the porch light. Maxine and Alex, Daniel’s children — Amber-braided 10-year-old Maxine with her wide anxious eyes, identical version of Daniel, and eight-year-old freckled Alex clutching his sister’s hand, his cheeks striped with tears. They were trembling and their clothes were wrinkled as if they’d just ran a marathon. I opened the door, and they pushed in. “Nina, close the door! Quick!”

I shut and locked it, my hands trembling. “Maxine, Alex, what’s wrong?” I bent down to their height and pushed Alex’s hair away from his face, my heart panging slightly with pity at their terror. Maxine wobbled her voice and her words came rippling out. “Mommy took us. She told us to go with her friend but he was scary and we ran away!” Alex nodded, holding on to a stuffed dinosaur, his eyes wide. She said Daddy can’t have us, and she was screaming at someone on the phone.”

My blood ran cold. Selene. It was her corrupt game of causing pain to Daniel, to make his own children the pawns of her vendetta. Maxine and Alex had been seized, held as hostages to control Daniel, and no doubt in hopes of pressuring him to sign those divorce papers or worse. My anger burned hot and fast. “You’re safe now,” I said, and pulled them into a hug. Their delicate frames shook against mine, and I struggled to keep my voice calm. “I’ve got you.”

I pulled my phone to enter Daniel’s number, my fingers stumbling across the tiny buttons. His kids needed their dad, and he needed to know what Selene had done. But his line went straight to voicemail — likely in surgery, unreachable. I swore under my breath, my thoughts racing. What now? Keep them here? Call the police? I took Maxine and Alex to the couch and covered them with a blanket. “Tell me everything,” I whispered, thinking that the story might aid.

Maxine sniffed, holding Alex’s hand. “Mommy’s friend trapped us in a room. She told us she’d tell Daddy we were gone forever if he didn’t do what she wanted.” Alex’s voice was tiny. “I was so afraid, but Maxine got us out a window.” My heart broke for them. Selene was a monster, she used to use her children to manipulate Daniel. I wanted to pound on her mansion and howl, but I couldn’t abandon the kids. I offered them water, attempted to settle them down and my mind raced on what I next would do.

Then it got worse — a loud pounding at my door, so hard that the frame shook. Maxine sucked in a breath of air and Alex whined and curled himself tight into the blanket. Dread filled me as I neared the door, and my stomach plummeted. I looked through the peephole and held my breath. Selene was there. Her assistant, Mike, stood in her shadow, his features drawn. My heart pounding, I opened the door, where Selene’s voice sliced through the air.

“You think you can hide? You b***h!”