Taking Back My Ex-wife

Theresa Stevens has fantasized about a certain hot doctor since the first moment she laid her eyes on him.

The only problem? He's her dad's best friend, so the chances of a love story between them is impossible.

But that hasn't stopped her from teasing, and seeking new ways to push him to the brink. Theresa knows Max equally has a crush on her, and her biggest challenge is getting him to act on it.

There's not been a pretty solid moment for both of them.

Until now.

Theresa is aching, and the only cure?

Doctor Max Storm's touch.

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1 - Theresa.

“Good morning, Doctor Storm.”

“Good morning, Amelia. How's it going?”

“Fine,” little Amelia said back.

As I stand by my window, watching the exchange between our family doctor, and my younger sister, longing seizes my heart, causing me to place a hand on my chest. Doctor Storm smiles as he picks Amelia up like she's a feather, and tossed her about, his laugh so bright and loud and true that it ripples through my entire being.

I would die for this man.

I would die for Doctor Storm.

I mean it.

An extreme thing to say, but that goes to show how dangerous my fixation on him has run deep. The first time I saw him, the first time I was taken to the hospital — purely a coincidence, I'd found it hard to sit still. To not grab him by his stethoscope, pull him closer, and smash my lips against his.

That was over a year ago.

I was eighteen back then. Newly an adult, and Doctor Max Storm was, and still is the first, and only man so far who I've had such strong feelings for.

I'll forever be grateful to Daddy for employing him to treat our family only.

Today, Amelia is running a fever, and is unable to go to school. I'd held my breath as father called up Doctor Storm, informing him of the situation, and asking that he come over and take a look at her before he heads off to the hospital. I'd deliberately poured some water on the floor, closing my eyes as I walk right through it, and slip. The fall was so bad, I almost cracked my skull.

Dad was furious when he came running. “Shit. Not you too! What's wrong with both of you today?”

“It's fine, Dad,” I reassure him, wincing as I tried to rub my throbbing head. He shook his head.

“No, you're not. You'll skip school today, so Max can have a look at you too. I do hope it's nothing serious though.”

I bow my head and look remorseful, but once the door closes, I beam and jump on the bed, happy with myself, though my head still hurts.

I'll do anything for Doctor Storm.

Anything at all.

Including hurting myself to see him.

“Theresa, get down here,” Dad's hoarse voice pulls me out of my reverie. I jump, startled, then throw on a tank top and the shortest shorts I have. I run my fingers through my hair, smoothing the tangled ends, and stare deep and long at my reflection in the vanity dresser. “Max has arrived.”

Max is here.

Max.

I go down the stairs cautiously, feeling as though I'm walking on air. He comes into focus, seated in the living room with little Amelia in between his legs, giggling. A warm feeling spreads through my body at how he plays with her. So carefree. So genuine. So bright.

“Doctor Storm...” I say, my voice shallow. He looks up, bright green eyes striking my inner being, and I nudge myself to get into action by cupping the side of my head. “I..um, fell. This morning. It hurts like hell.”

His brows crinkle slightly, then pity floods his eyes. “I'm so sorry, Theresa...”

“No, it's fine,” I lie, forcing a smile. Dad comes out from the kitchen with two plates of steaming lasagna, which he sets down on the dinning table. “Breakfast is ready. Come eat, Theresa, while Max takes a look at Amelia.”

I shook my head, feigning pain. “No, Dad. I'm weak. I'll be upstairs instead. Please can you send him up when he's done with Amelia?” I ask, knowing damn well he'll say no. Dad hates it when we act all bratty. It's not the way he brought us up to be. Not the way Mom wants us to turn out, but I'll be damned going through so much pain than not get a few minutes of privacy with the man who is the bane of my existence.

As expected, Dad's countenance changes, and before he gets to yell at me, Doctor Storm comes to my rescue. “That's alright, Daniel. I can do that.”

“Max, you don't understand — ”

“She's in so much pain,” Doctor Storm says firmly — a bit too firmly for comfort, and Dad is oblivious, but it delivers the required effect on him. “It'll be best she lies down on her back and wait till I examine her. That way, it'll hurt less.”

“If that's what it'll take, then sure. You win, Max.”

He always win.

Always.

—

Since I turned eighteen, I've fantasized about having Doctor Storm, not in his private office, not at the hospital, not anywhere near Dad's dinners or little Amelia, but in my room. I mull over those fantasies every night. Think up ways to execute them. Think up ways to keep on seeing him. But none has ever worked out like the one I pulled off this morning.

After Doctor Storm made Dad give his consent to examine me upstairs, I went up to my room and did a little cleaning. Set the scene. I lit a scented candle, and sprayed some perfume in the air, then pulled off my shorts and panties, tossing them into the laundry bin. I get into bed half-naked, and cover myself with my blanket.

Then I wait.

Count up to twenty.

Thirty.

For...

The door swings open, and I sit up, my heart in my mouth, my entire body on fire as Doctor Storm steps into view, looking like a golden burning sun. He beams at me, and pushes his dark hair back, taking sturdy steps into the room. I watch him drop his suitcase and stethoscope on the table, next to the burning candle, and draw in a deep breath as moisture forms in between my legs.

Shit.

I hope he doesn't smell me.

What am I even saying... I hope he does!

“Your Dad told me what happened,” he says as he leans over, pressing the back of his palm against my temple. “I'm sorry. I would have suggested we head to the hospital together to check if there are any fractures with an x-ray, but...”

Fuck the hospital.

I zone out completely, staring at the way his Adam's apple bobs up and down as he speaks. God, this man is the closest thing to perfection. And he's so close. So close to me for the very first time ever. I close my eyes, and savor the moment. Memorize it. Ingrain it into my being. His cozy chocolate-and-coffee smell. His well-pressed blue shirt...his lips...how soft...

“Theresa? Are you even listening?”

“S-Sorry, Doc!” I blurt out in embarrassment, my cheeks flushed. He chuckles, and I press my legs tight together again. Jesus.

“You look stressed. Has your Dad been stressing you about school lately? How are those grades holding up?”

Ugh, I don't want to talk about school. I don't want to talk about anything, but sit in silence as I admire this beautiful man. But since I've wanted this, this closeness, this privacy, I try to indulge him by saying the first thing that comes to my mind.

“Is the door closed?”

His brows crinkle in confusion. “What?”

“Did you lock the door?” I ask again, this time more firmly.

He shakes his head. “You want it locked?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

I watch him go over and turn the lock, his movements somewhat jerky, as though he's trying to process what is happening. With a deep breath, I take the boldest step I've ever taken in my life.

I wrap the blanket up and throw it aside.

Take off my tank top.

Then I stand there. On the other side of the bed.

Naked.

“Theresa, are you sure...holy shit!”