Finding Dr. Right (Contemporary Medical Romance)
Page 15
Her touch grew bolder, drifted down over the flat of his stomach before easing into the waistband of his sweat shorts. He tightened his arms around her nude body and lifted her from the counter. His breath quickened as she wrapped her legs around him, molding herself against his erection, opening herself to him, pushing against him. It would be so easy to reach down, to free himself and drive wildly inside her instead of waiting.
He gazed into Catherine’s face and saw his own urgent need reflected in its warm depths. He bit back a curse and kissed her. Balancing her against the counter, he reached down and pulled at his shorts, swallowing her groan as he sprang free between them.
Catherine pulled away, breaking the kiss as her hips searched for him. Almost too late he remembered what he was forgetting, and held himself away from her. “Catherine, wait. Wait….” His hoarse whisper was nearly lost in the combination of their breathing. He sat her on the counter, gave her a lingering kiss before pulling away.
Nathan shook his head to clear it, motioned for Catherine to wait as he frantically searched the kitchen table. His hand closed around his leather wallet and he hastily opened it, grabbing the foil packet and dropping everything else in his haste to return to Catherine. Their mouths met in a heated frenzy as he quickly sheathed himself with the condom.
His arms closed around her, pulling her close as she rocked against him. Teeth nipped at moist skin; their breathing echoed around them, pulling them deeper into the mist of passion as Catherine lowered herself fully onto him. His jaw clenched and his breath hitched at the hot tightness that clamped around him. He lowered his head, caught Catherine’s mouth with his own as they found each other’s rhythm and matched it.
Her arms twined around his neck as his hands closed over the firmness of her bottom, guiding her, holding her against him as he thrust into her. Burying himself. Deeper each time. Her back arched, offering herself. Nathan lowered his head, pulled the taut peak of one nipple into his mouth, sucked it greedily.
Thrust. Bury. Their movements faster, frantic and urgent.
“Nathan…”
Catherine’s legs tightened around him, squeezing, holding. He thrust again, felt her shatter around him. He captured her mouth with his, swallowed her cries of pleasure as she continued to shatter around him. One more thrust and his own cry of pleasure was lost in the frenzied mating of their tongues.
Seconds went by as he gentled the kiss, finally pulled away and looked at Catherine, breathless. Embarrassment flushed her cheeks but she met his gaze squarely. A grin spread across his face and was answered by her own tentative smile.
“I feel like I should say something but I don’t know what.” Her soft admission touched him, and he searched for something heartfelt to say.
“How about ‘wow’?” The words were out before he could stop them. Catherine stared at him in shock before a soft laugh escaped her. Nathan felt his grin widen then falter as guilt rushed through him, and he suddenly, clearly, understood the reason for Catherine’s reaction that morning.
As clearly as the soft voice of a nine-year-old boy calling him from his bedroom.
Chapter Twelve
Nathan bit back an oath as mortification washed over him. He glanced at Catherine, who fixed him with an absent look that was quickly replaced by dawning horror. Nathan’s heart clenched. He leaned forward and pressed his lips hard against her cold ones. He wasn’t surprised when she pulled away.
“Catherine, don’t. Don’t close up again.”
“Oh, God. What…” Her trembling words faltered as she stared at him, as she looked down and noticed that her legs were still tightly wrapped around his waist. Nathan swallowed, thought fast as he tightened his hold on her.
“Catherine, don’t. Listen to me. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” Nathan pivoted so she was resting against the counter, clenched his jaw against the flare in his knee. The pain was nothing compared to what she obviously felt.
Matty’s small voice called out to Nathan again. He gave Catherine one last look, then turned toward the closed kitchen door. “Uh, I’ll be right there, Matty. Just stay right there.” Please, God, stay there.
Nathan took a deep breath, gently eased away from Catherine and tried not to feel the loss too deeply. He was a moron. A complete idiot.
He rushed around the kitchen, scooping clothes from the floor and hastily pulling them on. His arm caught in the sleeve of his T-shirt and he nearly ripped it in his haste to smooth it over his chest. He sat Catherine’s pile next to her.
“Catherine, look at me.” He ran his hands lightly over her arms then cupped her face until her dazed eyes slowly focused on him. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll take care of Matty. You stay in here and get dressed.”
Nathan reached down and grabbed her clothes, shoving a piece into her shaking hand. His face flamed in embarrassment when he saw it was her underwear. Stupid. So stupid. He planted a quick kiss on her stiff lips then walked out of the kitchen.
The door to his room was still closed. He took a deep breath, shoved his hands through his hair and prayed he didn’t look as guilty as he felt before pushing it open and walking in. Matty was still lying in the center of the bed, his arm propped on a pillow. The boy suddenly looked smaller, more vulnerable.
Guilt and humiliation quickly replaced his short-lived relief when Matty turned his head and offered Nathan a strained grin. Great, just great. The kid’s lying here in pain and you’re in the other room doing the wild thing with his mother.
Nathan pushed the thought away, offered Matty a stiff smile as he walked closer to the bed. “Hey, kiddo. How are you doing?”
“Okay, I guess. My arm still hurts a little.”
“Well, you didn’t expect to go turning somersaults so soon after breaking it, did you?” Nathan took some comfort in Matty’s expression then eased himself down on the bed, careful not to disturb the elevated arm. “So is everything okay?”
“Yeah. I just kinda forgot where I was at first.”
You’re not the only one. “Hmm. I know how that one goes.”
A comfortable silence settled over the room as Nathan watched Matty’s eyes drift shut, then pop back open. He reached out and smoothed a damp lock of hair from the boy’s forehead. The contact sent a river of warmth crashing over Nathan and he snatched his hand away, shocked at the sensation.
“I’m thirsty.” The words were a sleepy mumble that unleashed more warmth in Nathan. He pushed the feelings away as he leaned over and poured Matty a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table, then helped him up so he could drink. “Is Mom here? I thought I heard her voice.”
“Uh…mmm…” Nathan cleared his throat and started over. “Uh, yeah. She’s in the kitchen, um, fixing something to eat.” Brilliant, Conners. That’s a new way to put it. He sighed and mentally shook his head, turning his attention back to Matty when the boy shifted and stared up at him with innocent eyes.
“Is she mad at you? For bringing me here, I mean.”
Nathan blew a deep breath through pursed lips and shrugged, not sure how to answer the question. He shifted on the bed and fluffed the pillows behind Matty before helping him lean back.
Catherine watched them from the doorway, her heart constricting painfully when Nathan brushed Matty’s hair from his forehead with a soft touch. The look of adoration that crossed her son’s face brought tears to her eyes and she blinked them back mercilessly. What was with her lately that she was so prone to crying? Too much change, too fast. That had to be the reason.
“Well, is she?” The impatience in Matty’s voice as he repeated the question brought a faint smile to her lips. She took a deep breath and crossed the threshold, causing Nathan’s head to turn in her direction so fast she feared he would get whiplash. She saw the different emotions flash through his eyes: confusion, gratitude, guilt, uncertainty. A charge of awareness flashed between them before she shifted her gaze to Matty.
“No, Matty, I’m not mad. Not too much, anyway.”
“Hey, it’s okay. Shh. I’m not mad, Matty. It’s okay.” She crooned the words in a comforting whisper, breathed a sigh when Matty’s body relaxed under her touch. She straightened and offered him a small smile. “Next time, just make sure I know where you’re going. You had me worried.”
“I’m sorry. I just…you and Uncle Bri were arguing and I didn’t like it so I asked Nathan to take me home and —”
“I know. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did to Brian.” Catherine took a deep breath and sat down on the bed when Nathan moved over to make room for her. Her eyes darted to his and another jolt shot through her, this one different from the sexual awareness that had passed between them earlier.
There was something almost comforting about the three of them being together like this. Her throat constricted and she quickly cleared it, looking away while she pushed the feeling aside and focused on finding the right words to comfort Matty. “Listen, I’m sorry about this morning. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I was upset and I overreacted, and I said some things I shouldn’t have. To everyone.”
Nathan shifted on the bed next to her and she knew without looking that he understood the apology was for him, as well. Matty glanced from her to Nathan and back again, then smiled with an innocence Catherine knew was all show.
“So you’re not mad at Nathan anymore, either?”
There was entirely too much calculation in the words. She bit her tongue and wondered what he was up to. Instead of questioning him, Catherine just sighed and ruffled his hair. “I told you I wasn’t. So are you up to going home now?”
“Home?” The catch in his voice was followed by a dramatic sigh as he leaned his head back on the pillow. He closed his eyes, an exaggerated grimace crossing his face as he shifted in the bed. “I…my arm hurts, Mom. Can I just sleep some more?”
Catherine covered her mouth with her hand, hiding her smile as Matty uttered a heartbreaking moan. She turned her attention to Nathan and saw the corner of his mouth twitch.
“Don’t you think you’d be more comfortable in your own bed?” Her question was greeted by silence, slowly followed by a sleepy murmur from Matty as he turned his head away from them. But not before Catherine noticed the tiny grin that curled his lips. A warm hand closed over her shoulder and she turned to see Nathan shake his head.
“Just let him sleep,” Nathan whispered, winking slowly in her direction. He gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze then stood. “C’mon. I think we need to talk, anyway.”
Sweat popped out on the palms of her hands and her heart skipped a beat at his words. Talk. Yes, they needed to talk. But she wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, what she should say. Catherine leaned over and brushed a light kiss across Matty’s forehead then followed Nathan, making sure she closed the door to the bedroom.
Nathan grabbed her hand and led her the short distance to the living room before turning her in his arms and lowering his mouth to hers. She stiffened briefly, afraid to surrender to the sensations swarming over her. Nathan sighed against her lips and stared down at her with an unreadable expression.
“Listen, about earlier, it was an unbelievably stupid move on my part. I wasn’t thinking straight. But I don’t regret it for a minute, Catherine, and I’d probably do the same thing given a second chance.”
“Nathan —” He cut her words off by placing a single finger against her lips, gently.
“Not yet. Just think that over for a few minutes.” He removed his finger, took a step back to put distance between them and smiled. “So, can I get you anything to drink? I think I might have some wine around here. Or soda. Definitely water.”
“Water’s fine.”
“Good. Now just sit down and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Catherine watched as he disappeared into the kitchen, then fought the blush that spread across her face at the recent memory. It had been a stupid move, on both their parts. But it had also been an incredibly exciting encounter that still had tremors pulsating along her nerves. She took a deep breath, blew it out between pursed lips and shook her head.
What was she supposed to do about it now? she wondered. Put it out of her mind? Easier said than done.
She brushed the hair out of her eyes and walked over to the bookcase against the far wall. There had been too much on her mind when she first got here that she hadn’t taken in any details, so she took her time with them now.
The first thing she noticed was that Nathan’s place was exceptionally neat in a bachelor sort of way. No piles of clothes, no careless stacks of magazines or empty pizza boxes. She wasn’t sure what she had expected of the loft condo, but it wasn’t the neatness and simplicity surrounding her.
Furniture was minimal: a comfortably overstuffed sofa and a recliner, both covered in a neutral leather upholstery. A single magazine lay open on a glass-and-chrome coffee table. She looked closer and smiled absently at the latest issue of Sports Illustrated, open to an article on the NHL. Of course.
A free-standing chrome lamp perched near a glass end table. An identical lamp was tucked behind the recliner, and a magazine rack rested next to it on the floor. A quick glance told Catherine that it held more sports magazines.
The most impressive piece of furniture, and what had first caught Catherine’s eye, was the combination bookcase and entertainment center that took up the entire back wall. A television and stereo sat prominently in the center section, flanked by a collection of various CDs and DVDs. The left section held an assortment of books and magazines, a spattering of knickknacks and a few framed snapshots. The far right section was nearly identical except for the two shining trophies displayed on a top shelf.
Admiration went through her when she stepped closer and read their inscriptions. She then studied the smaller snapshots scattered on the shelves. One showed Nathan and his teammates celebrating on the ice; another captured his crooked smile as a blazer-clad official presented him with one of the trophies sitting on the shelf.
There was a surprising similarity to the pictures. Most were informal candid shots of Nathan with his teammates taken over the years. There were different faces, different uniforms, but the same relaxed, jubilant smiles. Catherine looked closer, surprised to see that the only picture of Nathan by himself was the one of him accepting the trophy. Unusual for someone who had obviously enjoyed a successful career.
Footsteps echoed behind her and she jumped, turned to see Nathan watching her from a few feet away. She cleared her throat and fought the sensation that she had been caught snooping. “I, uh, I was just looking at the pictures.”
Nathan raised an eyebrow in her direction, smiling, then closed the distance between them and handed her a glass of water. His eyes scanned the shelves behind her, a flash of emotion sparking in their amber glow then disappearing. “Nothing much to look at if you ask me.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m surprised there aren’t more of you, though.” Nathan shrugged then looked away, and Catherine had the sudden impression he was embarrassed. She studied him as she sipped her water. “The trophies are impressive.”
Nathan turned back to her, his eyes intense before he looked away. He made his way to the sofa and she wondered why he seemed embarrassed. Turning back to the pictures, she realized the small collection covered a wide span of years. The corner of her mouth turned up in a smile when she noticed one of the pictures had obviously been taken during his teen years. “So how long have you played hockey, anyway?”
“Too long.” A long sigh accompanied the words and Catherine looked at him in astonishment. She s
aw him rubbing his knee, noticed the speed with which he removed his hand when he realized she was watching. Nathan was making an obvious effort to pretend nothing was wrong.
“So how long?”
“Catherine, when I said earlier that we needed to talk, I didn’t mean about my hockey career.” Nathan patted a section of the empty sofa, motioning for her to sit next to him. She bit the inside of her lip and tried not to notice the play of muscles under his shirt or his well-defined legs. She might as well have told herself not to breathe.
She had just as much success trying to relax by telling herself they were only going to talk. The look of amusement Nathan gave her didn’t help, either.
“Tell you what. You stop looking so frightened and come over here, and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know about my playing hockey.”
“Am I that obvious?” She forced the words through a suddenly dry throat, wincing when they came out as little more than a croak. Taking a sip of water didn’t help.
“For the most part, yes. Sorry.”
Warmth spread across her face and she mumbled in embarrassment, but at least she finally made her way to the sofa. She carefully sat, making sure there was ample space between them, then uttered a noise of surprise when she sank into the soft cushions. More heat rushed to her cheeks as she struggled to hide her small fumble with the overstuffed cushions, unsuccessfully if Nathan’s chuckle was any indication.
“Now what was your question?”
“My question?” Catherine looked at him in confusion, gave her head a little shake to clear it enough to remember. “Oh. I was just wondering how long you’ve been playing hockey.”
“Twenty-three years if you count them all, ten years if you just count the major league.”
“Twenty-three years?” Catherine stared at him in openmouthed shock. “But that would mean you started when you were…how old were you when you started?”