Zack Patterson couldn’t be more annoyed when his boss informs him he’s going to make house calls for a wealthy patient. Becoming the personal physical therapist for Landon Price isn’t on his ‘to-do’ list.
Despite his initial irritation, Zack finds himself undeniably attracted to Landon. The two of them have much in common and quickly become pals. Each therapy session makes it harder and harder for Zack to keep things professional, but does Landon reciprocate his attraction?
Is Zack willing to take a chance on his possibly straight patient, and will doing so be career suicide?
Be Warned: m/m sex
As Landon handed the glass over, their fingers brushed, causing Zack to jump. He instantly regretted the motion, as it caused beer to slosh over the side of the glass and spill onto his lap. The cold splash drew a startled sound from his throat, and he somehow managed to pour more onto his pants.
“Aw, shit,” Landon said. “I am so sorry.” Taking the rest of the napkins, he leaned forward and attempted to mop up the mess.
Zack had been so intent on not spilling any more beer that it wasn’t until Landon’s hand was scrubbing at his upper thigh that he took notice of Landon’s head bent over his lap. The sight awoke something inside of him that would lead nowhere good. Shit was right. He needed to put an end to it—and fast! “Hey, it’s fine, man. Don’t worry about it.” The only reason he’d worn his scrubs in the first place was as a reminder to keep things businesslike and professional. He wasn’t here watching football and relaxing with his buddies; he was here to work. He didn’t care if the stupid scrubs got dirty. Right now they were only for show anyway.
But Landon kept scrubbing. “I know these uniforms aren’t cheap. I’m sure you get enough crap on them at the hospital. You don’t need me getting beer stains all over them too.”
“Seriously,” Zack said in a strained voice. “It’s fine.” Landon’s hand brushed his inner thigh, and Zack’s cock took notice. His dick hardened as carnal thoughts danced in his head. He knew he should not be thinking such things about a patient. It could get him into a shit-ton of trouble. But Landon knew he was gay. He knew, and yet he was still rubbing at Zack’s thigh as if beer was the worst thing in the world for clothing.
The side of Landon’s hand brushed against his growing erection, and Zack couldn’t take another moment of it. If this behavior wasn’t on purpose, then Landon was the least homophobic straight man he’d ever met.
Giving in to his desires, Zack plunked his beer down on the table, grabbed Landon’s shirt in a fist, and pulled Landon’s mouth to his. The kiss was heated, hard, and demanding. Both of them were men used to taking control. Zack in his medical profession, and Landon in the boardroom. Neither was used to giving in, so even in this, they battled. Their mouths fought for control and they each groaned out their pleasure.
Zack’s mind lost all thought. He didn’t care that Landon was a patient. He didn’t care that Landon had just broken off a relationship—one with a woman. None of it mattered.