Free Broken Lion by Devon Hartford Page B

I could think of a hundred reasons why he did, but I honestly couldn’t think of a good one.
    “You’re married.” He said it with regret.
    “Divorced.”
    His eyes brightened and that adorable grin of his was back. “Really?”
    “Don’t get any ideas. Doctor, patient. Patient, doctor.” I pointed back and forth between the two of us.
    He chuckled. “Right, right. Rules.”
    “You remember!”
    “Course I do. Doesn’t mean I like it.”
    “Remember what I said about rules?”
    He smirked. “Sometimes they’re ridiculous.”
    “I’m impressed.”
    “I’m always impressive.”
    “That ego of yours is really ballooning out of control. If I had a pin handy, I’d pop it.” I pretended to poke the side of his head. “Pop!”
    “More like ka-boom.”
    I giggled. “Are you making fun of your giant ego?”
    “Yeah. I never take myself too seriously. You on the other hand…”
    “I’m not too serious!”
    “Keep on telling yourself that, Einstein.”
    “Einstein wasn’t serious. He was famous for his sense of humor, I’ll have you know.”
    “See what I mean? You sound like a librarian.”
    “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
    “I’ll say.” His eyes wandered all over my body. “You look hot in those yoga pants and that hoodie.”
    His penetrating gaze made me feel naked. “Would you stop? People are watching!” I looked at the parents by the windows, but they were chatting amongst themselves or checking their cell phones. Lion and I stood near the dojo’s office, out of earshot and in semi-privacy.
    “What can I say, Brigid? I like what I see. A whole hell of a lot.”
    I whispered, “Stop staring at me you dirty pervert!”
    “You like it dirty. Don’t deny it.” He said it quietly, but that voice of his was still that voice…
    “I do not!” I was getting turned on in a karate dojo for kids and I felt guilty about it. Was this in any way appropriate? Probably not.
    Lion checked to make sure no one was listening, then muttered, “Your denial is code for you love it. For all I know, you work as a dominatrix when you’re not at the hospital. Probably got a whole closet of tight black leather outfits and whips at home.”
    “I do not! I’m a soccer mom when I’m not at work. A plain old soccer mom.”
    “It’s a cover. Admit it. You’re hard core dirty behind closed doors.”
    “How can you say that?” Yes, I was enjoying this. But I wasn’t a dominatrix nor had I ever considered being one.
    “Because a woman as controlling as you likes to crack the whip in the bedroom as much as she does at work.”
    My face burned beet red. “I don’t even own a whip.”
    “But you like to tell a man what to do. Tell him what you want. Am I right?”
    I wasn’t denying it. But my red face was admitting it like crazy. Why were we talking about my sex life or lack thereof? I needed to hide.
    “Thing is, you probably don’t even know what you want because you don’t know what you’ve been missing.”
    “Oh? What’s that, Mr. Know It All?”
    “You want someone to take control of you.”
    “No I don’t.” I was about to tell him he could take control of me whenever he wanted.
    “You want to know what it would be like to have a man like me pin you down and fuck you senseless. The kind of senseless where you forget everything except how hard you’re coming all over my face while I eat you alive.”
    “I don’t want that.” My denial was pathetic at best.
    “Sure you don’t.” His eyes drilled into me. “You’re probably dripping into your thong right now.”
    “I’m not wearing a thong.” I wasn’t. Soccer Mom Surgeons like me wore granny panties. It was the rules. But I was starting to drip.
    He grinned lustily. “Mmm. Not wearing anything, Irish? I like the sound of that.”
    I had completely forgotten where I was. But I was seriously considering dropping my yoga pants and spreading my legs to see if he could live up to his exaggerated claims. In fact, the