by Hope Ramsay
“That’s my girl,” he said. “I was waiting for you to mention that. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to dole out some payback for that.”
“No payback,” she managed to say.
“Oh, don’t worry. I think you might like it.” He peeled off her scrap of panty and slipped a finger into her slick wetness, stroking her swollen flesh, kissing her long and slow and deep.
“Colton,” she said, her voice urgent, grasping his arms, tugging him over her.
He put on a condom and she guided him into her body, clutching at his back while he entered her carefully, steadily, filling her, moving her. For a moment their gazes locked. Honesty, earnestness, connection—it all shook her. She met his gaze full on, tamping down an underlying sense of terror that somehow this man was different from any other, and she would never come out of this the same.
Waves of pleasure rolled mercilessly through her, every muscle tightening. She could tell from the way his muscles were tensing that he was very close to release too.
He kissed her mouth and began moving inside her, starting a rhythm that sent the little waves cascading into bigger, hotter ones, rolling through her one by one like a warm, languid summer tide. She opened to him, wrapped herself around him, embraced him with all her strength.
“Sara,” he cried out, and then he let go, taking her with him. And she clung to him as they both plunged over the edge.
* * *
Colton was not a cuddler or a spooner, but he reached for Sara and pulled her to him, smoothing out her amazing hair as it fell against his neck. He inhaled its sweet scent, felt its silken weight run through his fingers. Around now was the time when he’d typically mention he had to get started early tomorrow, and the woman in question would take the hint and leave. A part of him had been hoping that once they’d made love, he would see Sara was like any other woman, that it was just sex, yada yada. Instead he’d found himself experiencing another feeling he had no real understanding of—contentment.
She surprised him by talking first. “Tomorrow’s Sunday. I’ve got to get up early to help Nonna get ready for family dinner.” She paused. “You should come sometime. To family dinner. I mean, you’re good friends with Rafe, and Nonna loves you, so it’s not like anyone would wonder why you’re there.”
He hesitated more than the usual time, finally deciding to be honest. “Thanks, but family dinners…just not my thing.” It wasn’t his thing. He didn’t consider that maybe she’d be the exception to his rule, because she’d said she was in this for fun. There was no point in pretending otherwise.
“Oh, OK.” Disappointment resonated in her voice.
“It’s nothing personal. Just that…you know, it’s…family.” Great, that was making a lot of sense. “What I mean is…”
She kissed him quickly. “Sounds like we’re both on the same page. We’ll keep this light. I’m not offended.” She still looked a little disappointed, maybe. He did know her family’s Sunday dinner was a big deal. Something he’d never show up to casually. And he knew her family would never interpret his being there as a casual thing.
She moved to get up. Impulsively he put a hand on her arm to hold her back. “I said I didn’t do family dinners. Not that I wanted you to go.” If she were anyone else, he’d encourage her to leave and get a good night’s rest. But he didn’t want her to go. So he tightened his hold and draped a hand around her waist. She gave in and lay back against him, resting a hand lightly on his forearm. It looked pale and creamy—delicate—compared to his much darker coloring.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked. Also new for him. When had he ever asked that?
She smiled. “What we just did. How I still can’t even believe it. When I think about you and me in high school—”
“I don’t even want to talk about how I was in high school.”
“Why not? You were handsome and popular. You had everything I wanted. Popularity, friends. I was just an ugly little duckling.”
“I was a jerk.” He paused. “And I never thought you were ugly.”
“Oh, come on. It’s all right. I had pimples and thick glasses and braces until I was a sophomore.”
He shrugged. “Everyone has an awkward phase.”
“Except you.”
He nuzzled her neck a little. God, she smelled good. “I almost asked you to homecoming senior year.”
“What?” She propped herself up on one elbow, giving him a view of her pretty shoulders—and her cleavage, which she’d covered loosely with the sheet. “You did not.”
“Remember when I’d hurt my knee and was hobbling around on crutches, and you’d sprained your ankle and were in an AirCast?”
“Oh yeah. I sprained it working at Outerspace Burgers while I was on those awful roller skates they made us wear.”
“Yeah, well, we were sitting together at an assembly in the handicapped seats. Remember that?”
“I remember being nervous sitting next to you. Because you were so handsome. And I felt bad for you—it was right after you’d blown out your knee. The whole school was talking about it.”
“Everyone was telling me I’d be fine, I was a great player, I’d come back. Basically blowing smoke up my butt when the doctors told me from the beginning it was bad news. You didn’t say any of that. You just said, I’m sorry. That meant something to me. I think I understood deep inside my football career was over. I never thought I’d even make it to college without my scholarship.”
She rubbed his shoulder. “That must’ve been a hard time for you.”
“Honestly, I was more worried about the college part than the football part. I had to provide for Hannah. I couldn’t do that without a decent job.”
“You had a lot of responsibility for such a young man.” Suddenly she grinned.
“What is it?”
“So what’s the part about me? And homecoming. I can’t wait to hear this.” Her eyes were lit up in anticipation of what he was about to say. He couldn’t help thinking he’d never seen this side of her, expectant as a little kid, her guard totally down.
“So you sat with me and we talked and I got to thinking you were pretty nice. That I’d been wrong about you.”
“But I went with Tagg to homecoming that year.”
“He uninvited you, remember? After you screwed up your ankle.” Tagg had been an asshat—thinking she’d ruin his fun being on crutches. He’d eventually felt bad about it, but it had taken him long enough. “I was about to suggest we go together, as fellow invalids.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Just then, Tagg came by and sat down with us. I was angry he did that to you. But he was my best friend, I couldn’t move in on him.”
“We never would’ve lasted back then anyway,” she said with an exaggerated sigh.
“Why not?” He heard the hurt in his voice and silently cursed himself.
She smiled. “Because I always had my heart set on dating a professional athlete, and you clearly disappointed.”
“Yeah, but I just might be professional at something else.” He lifted his brows to let her know what it was.
She rolled her eyes and laughed. A snorty kind of laugh he’d never heard from her before, and he loved it. This was the real Sara, and he liked her. A lot.
In response he rolled her over and kissed her until her laughter faded and was replaced by an entirely different kind of fun.
* * *
Judging by the gray light behind the shades, Sara guessed it was around five a.m. She knew because the summer light was always early, and the dark turned to gray long before the sun came up. It was one of the things she loved about summer.
Next to her, Colton was sleeping on his side, facing her. His long lashes made him look boyish, but the muscle of his arm traveling under his pillow, and the plains and valleys of his chest clearly visible above the sheet, were all man.
Consciousness fully dawned, and with it a surge of pure adrenaline hit her, jolting her fully awake, and sudde
nly she was completely freaked out. What had she been thinking, to fall asleep with him? To stay all night? That smacked of…relationship. Something she knew full well the Revolver wasn’t interested in.
And while he might be very well acquainted with the “just fun” kind of thing they were embarking on, this was all new territory to her. She didn’t know the first thing about navigating a fling, but she did know that last night with Colton had been too perfect, their lovemaking easy and natural, how they’d fallen asleep wrapped up in each other’s arms. And she was pretty certain that thinking this way could only lead to heartache.
Panic hit her in bursts, each one bigger than the last. Suddenly she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t take in enough oxygen. She had to get out of here. She was not ready to face him in the light of day. Somehow, she had to find some sense of control.
Very cautiously she slid from the bed and found her bra, T-shirt, and shorts. God only knew where her panties had gone.
She slipped on her clothes in the living room and had just picked up her sandals near the door and placed her hand carefully on the knob when she met resistance.
In the form of a six-foot-two cop wearing nothing but navy boxer briefs, leaning over her with his hand on the door.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice a little gravelly, the shadow of beard growth on his face sexy as sin. He moved to prop his hip up against the door and cross his arms.
“I—um—have an emergency.” The emergency was that she was panicking and having a heart attack and she needed to get out of here. Fast.
“That right?” he said, one brow raised. “Funny, but I didn’t see you with your beeper. And I seem to recall your saying you were off all weekend.”
“Why could you not be a heavier sleeper?”
“Cop reflexes.” He paused and let that sink in. “Don’t leave. Stay.”
“You should be glad I’m leaving. Isn’t that what guys want? A woman who’s not clingy and knows when to leave?”
“Stay,” he said again, putting his arms on either side of her against the door, caging her in, which was sexy as hell. “Please.”
Still she stayed strong. “We just did it! Like, three times. Aren’t you exhausted?” Three times. And each time had been so, so good. Like walking-on-air kind of unbelievably good. Tagg clearly needed some lessons, because this man…
He bent to kiss her neck, and she shuddered. “Stay because I like you being here,” he said. “And I’ll make you breakfast.” He was nuzzling her neck, and it was getting hard to think, with whatever he was doing with his lips between her neck and collarbone.
“Sounds like breakfast might come with a price,” she said.
He smiled against her skin. She struggled to keep up the fight, trying not to smile herself, trying not to succumb to the warmth that was even now flooding through her.
Her thoughts were getting muddled, and the common sense that had led her to seek out the door was rapidly fading under the onslaught of his kisses. Sara reminded herself this was just for fun. Sex for fun did not involve hanging out for hours in bed talking and then staying for breakfast. It involved cutting loose and getting out before feelings got tangled up.
Yet his playful pleading got to her in ways she couldn’t even describe. He liked her being here. He wanted to make her breakfast. He wanted her to stay.
He did a weird thing then. He lifted his head and hugged her. Put his arms around her and rubbed his hands up and down her back and just…held her. It was the sexiest full-body hug she’d ever had, and for a second she thought she was going to cry.
She couldn’t talk. It felt like she had a Kleenex stuck in her throat. She didn’t dare say it out loud but she felt it, clear through her bones. Wanted. She felt wanted.
He drew back and looked at her. Lord, she must be a mess. Crazed hair, wrinkled clothes, no makeup, plus she’d slept in her contacts and her eyes felt like a thousand needles were prickling them.
“I never had a woman get so emotional over the thought of breakfast.” He reached over then and tilted her chin up so she had to make eye contact. The honesty in his gaze terrified her. It was as if he could see past all her bullshit. Before she could look away from that piercing blue gaze, he curled his hand around her neck very softly and gently and kissed her on the mouth.
Then, knowing full well he’d kissed all the fight out of her, he took her hand and tugged her back to his bedroom. He was irresistible. She had no choice but to push her fear aside and follow him.
Chapter 15
Leonore, where’s my dad?” Sara asked at work on Monday, setting a chart on the counter.
“He’s still in with Mrs. O’Connor,” Leonore said. “He told me to tell everyone he’s running a little behind today.”
A little? Sara glanced at her watch. It was ten o’clock, and the nine-thirty patient hadn’t been seen yet. “I tell you what, I can see the nine thirty. But when Dad comes out, will you tell him I need to talk to him?”
“Sure thing.”
Sara was already halfway down the hall when Leonore called out, “Hey, Sara…You forgot your pen, sweetie!”
“Oh! Thank you,” she said, grabbing it from Leonore and making sure to stick it in the knit thingamabob around her neck, pleased to see Leonore smile.
“I told you that little thing would come in handy.” She held out another pen. “Here, stick this in there so you always have an extra.” Sara had this terrible habit of forgetting pens everywhere. “Will do,” she said, and ran down the hall.
She caught up with her dad after she’d seen the patient, who had a straightforward sinus infection. He was walking out into the reception area with Eva O’Connor. Her eyes looked a little puffy. She grasped Sara’s hand unexpectedly.
“Hi, Mrs. O’Connor,” Sara said, squeezing her hand back.
“Sara. I’m so happy you’re back with us in town. We need a nice woman doctor like you. But I have to tell you, your father is a saint. Honestly, we’re going through some tough times, but he made me feel so much better.” She blew her nose, and Leonore pulled a few more out of a box on the counter and handed them to her. “I think I’ve held him up with my troubles.”
Leonore patted her hand. “Oh, now, you know how Doctor is. He always has time to listen.”
“Well, I am truly grateful for that, Leonore. You ladies have a good day.”
Sara found her father back in his office, dictating the visit. “Patient’s son is in the middle of a contentious divorce and got stopped for a DUI, her daughter’s just moved back home with two little kids, and her husband just found out he’s got to have back surgery.” He looked up from dictating into his computer. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, for throwing off the schedule.”
“Oh no, Dad. I’m really glad you made time to talk with her.”
He smiled. “Me too. It’s the part of my job I like the best. Sometimes people just need someone to listen.”
Easy to forget that, in the hectic pace of the day. “Hey, Dad, I need to consult with you on one of your patients I just saw.”
“Oh, sure,” he said, walking around the desk and standing near Sara, crossing his arms. “Who is it?”
“Stacy Simmons. I know she’s got irritable bowel syndrome, but she’s having bad pain and her abdomen feels tight. It’s concerning to me, like she might need a CT scan to make sure it’s nothing worse. I thought I’d get you to take a look and see what you think.”
Her dad rose from the chair. “I’ve been treating Stacy for years. I’m glad you asked me what I think.” As he went off to see the patient, Sara couldn’t help scanning his desk. Tidy piles of papers, pens with drug company logos, and a few goofy things his patients had given him, like a coffee mug that read, “I found that humerus.” In the corner of the desk was a stack of charts. On the top was the name of a patient she’d seen the day before. She flipped through the stack. Yep, her entire afternoon lineup from yesterday. He was still checking them over as if she were an intern.
Just then h
er dad came striding back in the room. “I agree with you, her abdomen’s tight. But she’s really stressed, and her irritable bowel always acts up when she’s overwhelmed. I told her you’d adjust her medication and to give us a call this evening if she’s not better. Sound all right to you?”
Sara tucked her disappointment about the charts aside. She’d bring that matter up another time. “Yes, but it makes me nervous too. How can you be sure nothing’s really wrong with her?”
He shrugged. “I can’t be. I’m just willing to take the risk because I know her so well.”
“But Dad—malpractice, lawsuits. Bad stuff happening to people.” Sara shuddered just thinking about that.
Her dad laughed. “Yeah, yeah. That’s why they call it the art of medicine. Or we’d spend all day ordering every test in the book on everybody.” He pulled his beeper off his hip and squinted at it. “Say, can you help me turn on that newfangled EKG machine? It’s like it has its own mind. This one asks you twenty questions before it decides to turn on. My old one just used to have a switch.”
“Sure, of course I’ll help you turn it on. Dad—”
“Yes, sweetheart?” He was already bolting down the hall. She caught up with him there.
“Thanks for that. It’s—it’s fun seeing you in action. I—hope I can be like you one day.”
He rested a hand on her shoulder. “Give yourself a little time. I think you’re going to be even better than me one day.”
Wow, what? Did she just hear that out of her dad’s mouth? A compliment? She took a minute to bask in the fact that her dad saw her potential. That she was doing OK, falling into a groove. Besides that, something more was happening. She was enjoying getting to know her patients, who were also her neighbors, friends, past teachers, and kids she’d babysat for. It made her feel a part of something…It made her feel like she belonged.
“Hannah Walker’s in room three,” Glinda said when Sara returned to the counter.
