by Taryn Quinn
He stepped inside her spacious bedroom. The room appeared the same way it always did. Tidy and classically stylish, full of the antiques his mother had spent so many hours collecting at estate sales. The lights were low, casting a soft glow on the small woman huddled, sans book, surrounded by pillows in the center of the enormous bed. He’d expected her to be reading under the covers. More than once he’d walked past her open door and caught a glimpse of her with her face in a book, reading glasses perched on her nose. So cute. But tonight she hunched under the sheet, the high collar of a nightgown encircling her neck.
“Sara?”
“Don’t come closer.” She fumbled for a tissue from the box on the nightstand, getting it to her nose just as she sneezed. “Sorry. Sick.”
“Since when? I saw you this afternoon.”
“Must be some kind of tsunami virus or something. Knocked me on my ass at dinner.”
He set down the apples on her nightstand and reached for the light blanket tossed on the rocker beside the bed. Late August in Pennsylvania could be unpredictable, and tonight had turned cool. “Here,” he said, draping the blanket around her shivering shoulders. “Want me to turn up the heat?”
“No, you and Kim will roast. I’m fine. God, what a pain.” She grabbed her glass of water, knocking off her box of cold meds in the process. “I can’t be sick this week.”
“Yeah, the sanctuary will have to close if you’re not there for a couple days.” He sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed down the blanket, avoiding the temptation to keep touching her. Even through thick layers of cotton, her body proved almost too much for him. Her eyes couldn’t quite focus, her cheeks were pink with the beginnings of a fever and she’d pulled her long, brown hair up in the messiest topknot he’d ever seen. She was still the most beautiful woman he knew.
She sneezed again and rubbed her eyes, looking positively woeful. “It’s a super busy week. We have the big fundraiser coming up. Which is why I texted you, by the way.”
She sounded a little stuffy. Absolutely adorable. He grinned. “Need a date?” he asked, hoping it was true.
“Not a date,” she said hurriedly. “Just someone to go with me. Kim insisted it be you,” she added.
He reached for his apple and crunched it, watching the way her gaze lingered on his mouth. He chewed slowly, licking his lips between bites. “If Kim insisted, I think I’m busy.”
“Come on, Brad. I didn’t mean that.” She glanced at the other apple. “Is that for me?”
“Mmm-hmm. You look kind of weak. Want me to feed it to you?”
She laughed, though her laughter soon turned into a pitiful cough. “How can you feed me an apple?” she asked, her voice scratchier—and sexier—than normal.
“Allow me to demonstrate.” Without reaching for her apple, he leaned in and lifted his to her mouth, raising his brows when she shot him a questioning glance. “Now you take a bite.”
“I have germs.”
“I love Sara germs,” he said, nudging her chin with the apple.
Shaking her head, she grinned. “Fine. Don’t cry to me when you get sick too.” She took a quick bite and drew back, lapping up the droplets of juice that slipped over her full lips. “Dammit, I can barely taste it.”
“You didn’t get enough.” He bit in and turned his head, lowering his face to hers. Her eyes widened. “Open up,” he murmured, slanting his mouth over hers before she had time to argue.
Her lips parted, and he tasted a hint of cherry cough syrup before their tongues tangled in the briefest, hottest kiss of his life. She accepted the apple and swallowed, her tongue retreating from his too fast. He chased after it, licking the inside of her mouth with tender strokes designed to cause her to relax. Again her tongue slid against his, almost as if she were collecting the last of the juice. Then she pushed him away, gently but firmly.
“I’m sick,” she reminded him, her warm breath puffing against his cheek.
“So you keep reminding me.” He returned to his apple, hiding his smile at the sound of her forced breathing. Unaffected? Not hardly. “Want more?”
“Of the apple or you?”
“Whichever.” His gaze roamed her face. “A minute ago you looked cold. Now you look too warm. Wonder how that happened?”
“Brad,” she said, her tone weak and soft. “I can’t deal with you when I’m loopy on cold meds.”
“You could try going with it.”
“Going with what?”
“Letting me take care of you.” And he didn’t mean just by offering her tissues. He set aside the apple and motioned for her to move. “Shove over.”
“You want to get in bed with me?”
“Thought that was obvious.” She rolled her eyes but, shockingly, she didn’t protest. She shifted onto her side as he settled in and turned his cheek toward hers on the pillow. “There. That’s not too scary, is it?”
“I’m not scared of you.” Her soft scoff contrasted with the wary expression she wore as she worried her lower lip between her teeth. “Much.”
“Finally she tells the truth.” He traced his fingertip over her temple. “I’m almost thirty.”
She smiled, but her eyes remained serious. “Thanks for the update.”
He brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, driven to keep touching her until he somehow found a way through the stubborn shell guarding her heart. And all the rest of her. “I come with good references.”
“Oh yeah? Who?”
“Not my ex, that’s for sure. But I have a business. I’m financially solvent, responsible, good with birds,” he added when Telly, Sara’s conure, sent out a series of chirps from his cage in the corner of the room. “I’m also excellent with my hands.”
She made a clucking noise and looked at him from under her thick fringe of lashes. “As if you’d say otherwise.”
“I’m a mechanic. Making things hum is my specialty.”
“Right.” She yawned and snuggled into the pillows, still watching him through hazy eyes. “Are you going to come to the fundraiser with me?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On if you admit you really want me to come.” It was a gamble, one he hoped paid off.
She whisked her tongue along her upper lip. “I’m too tired to want anyone to come. Even me.”
“Dr. Carmichael, that sounded suspiciously like flirtation.”
“Cold medicine,” she mumbled, arching as his hand strayed to her back. He circled his palm over her spine, his pulse bumping as she let out a quiet sigh. “That feels good. I’m so achy. It’ll be time for me to take more meds soon.” She groaned. “If I live that long.”
“I have a better idea. How about a massage?”
“Why do I have a feeling there’s only one answer you’ll accept?”
“Because you’re smart as well as sexy.” He kissed the tip of her nose and continued stroking her back, pressing his fingertips into tight muscles. “You’re awfully tense.”
“Hello, I’m in bed with my best friend’s brother.”
He laughed, low and appreciative. At least she hadn’t called him little again. “Here’s a thought. Why don’t you think of me as Brad? Just Brad. Kim’s not in this bed with us.”
“Thank God.”
Brad shifted closer, his palm spanning the small of her back. She was compact and lithe, a powerhouse in a petite package. She wasn’t an overgrown girl incapable of taking care of herself. This was a woman, a competent adult who didn’t play games.
At least, she didn’t play games he wouldn’t enjoy.
“You feel good,” he said quietly, sliding his fingers lower until they rubbed over the swell of her ass. Even when disguised by her decidedly unsexy nightgown, the sensuous curves of her body caused a definite stirring between his legs. His cock didn’t care that she was sick, that was for certain. “You must work out.”
“Nah, my only semi-regular exercise is sex,” she said with a hint of a smile.
&nbs
p; He cupped her ass and stared deep into her eyes, expecting her to put on the brakes sooner rather than later. “You don’t have it here.”
She moved against him restlessly, as if she’d realized they were nestled together. “It’s not my house.”
“It is while you’re living here.” Unable to help himself, he eliminated the distance between them and arrowed his tongue along her lower lip, asking for the entrance he’d simply taken moments before.
She kept her eyes on his as her lips opened, her tongue snaking out to guide him in for a quick kiss. He didn’t expect much in her condition, but just the skim of her mouth over his was enough to ignite his senses. He also didn’t expect the rush of warmth that descended over him when she sighed again and sidled lower to lay her head against his chest. “You’re good at that.”
“You too.” After he reached over and turned out the bedside lamp, he stroked her back, sliding his hand up to feather his fingertips over the exposed skin above the nightgown’s collar. “You should get some sleep. Try to shake off this cold.”
“Mmm-hmm.” She swallowed audibly. “Are you as good a kisser everywhere?”
Still rocked by getting somewhere—anywhere—with her, he didn’t understand her question at first. In the intimate dark of her bedroom, it would be easy to ascribe a husky timbre to her tone that wasn’t there. “What exactly are you asking me?” he questioned, his voice strained from the unrelenting pressure in his cock.
“Nothing. Never mind.”
“Sara.” He lifted her face to his. Even though he couldn’t see her eyes in the darkness, he brought their faces close until their mouths nearly met. “Tell me what you need.”
“I can’t.” She groaned. “God, I’m not used to feeling uncertain like this.”
“You don’t have to be. No one else needs to know what happens here between us.” He rubbed his thumb over her mouth and inhaled deeply as her soft, wet lips enveloped it. “Tell me,” he said as she released him.
“What if I show you?”
Now he was the one to swallow hard. Could she hear his heart throbbing in his chest? “Okay.”
She slipped away, putting space between their bodies. Then she tugged down the sheet and yanked up the hem of her nightgown, giving him a glimpse of long legs and smooth skin in the faint moonlight. He waited as she hiked up the fabric, trying not to pant. Whatever she wanted, he hoped like hell he could last long enough to give it to her.
“Your mouth,” she said, grabbing his hand and sliding it between her thighs. Her wet thighs. “Put it here.”
He was dreaming. He had to be. This afternoon when he’d left, Sara hadn’t seemed interested. She’d flushed when he guided her hand to his cock, true. She’d even let out a little gasp. But he never could have fathomed the day would end like this.
“Is this the cold medicine talking?” he asked hoarsely, afraid he didn’t care.
“No. I’m thinking clearly. Mostly. But I…I’m not up for full sex. Is that a problem?”
Brad slid down the mattress so fast that she laughed. “Do you go commando all the time in bed or is this a special occasion?”
“Since I often wear thongs, I don’t like to wear anything at night.” Her tone turned flirty. “I could slip on a pair, if you have some ritual that involves taking them off with your teeth…”
Thongs? Really? Now he’d have that in his head every time he saw her. And every time he didn’t. Pretty much every day, always.
“Intriguing idea, but no. This more than works for me.” He shifted around on the bed until he could wedge his head between her thighs and suck in a breath full of Sara.
Damn, she smelled good. How many times had he fantasized about eating her out while he stroked one off in the shower? Now here she was, her hot pussy inches from his eager mouth, the erotic aroma making him lightheaded.
She reached down and wove her fingers through his hair as he started to lick, circling his tongue around her swollen clit. He could’ve spent all night doing this. She tasted as tangy and sweet as the apple they’d shared, and he pressed his face against her heat, intent on getting more of her in his mouth. Finally, he had proof of their mutual attraction, and he damn well wouldn’t waste a drop.
She tugged on his hair, sharp pulls that only encouraged his engorged cock to rear against his pajama pants. He reached down to release himself, but not because he expected her to do anything about his hard-on. Nope, he’d pretty much reconciled himself to getting reacquainted with the shower again tonight. But if he didn’t relieve some of the pressure around his dick, he’d detonate in no time. And that wouldn’t exactly make her change her mind from thinking he was too young, now would it?
“Use your fingers,” she urged as he began to do just that, sliding two in and out of her slick pussy. Her inner muscles clamped around him, her arousal making wet, noisy sounds every time he entered and exited. She thrust against his face shamelessly, using his hair to move his mouth up and down her saturated flesh until she wasn’t the only one moaning.
He reached up with his free hand for her breast, grabbing her harder than he’d meant to. She didn’t seem to mind. Her back bowed, and she pushed her tight nipple into his palm, her cries rising.
“God. Yes. Don’t stop. I’m about to…”
“Stop?” he rasped. “Not a fucking chance.”
He fought not to lose it as he redoubled his efforts. He sucked her clit hard and thrust his fingers deep, determined to experience every nuance with her even if he’d only get to feel her spasm around his flesh.
As many times as he’d fantasized about going down on her, nothing prepared him for the reality of hearing her ride out her climax or tasting the results as her release flowed over his tongue. Her nails scraped his scalp, another provocative memory he knew he’d never forget.
He nuzzled her through the aftermath, loving her as sweetly as he’d kissed her mouth. She rocked her hips and sighed, the rumble of her pleasure vibrating through her body and straight into his.
“Thank you,” she whispered as he gathered her in his arms. “I know I’ll sleep now.”
Before he could comment, she was snoring against his shoulder.
Chapter 3
Sara had never been a fan of awkward middle-of-the-night-afters. Especially when she awakened due to an unladylike coughing fit that ended with her new lover stroking her back.
“Easy. Let me get you some juice,” Brad murmured, slipping out of her bed before she could ask him why he hadn’t gone back to his.
The moment he left, she flung herself into her pillows. What the hell had she been thinking, demanding he go down on her? It had felt really good, granted, but so did getting rip-roaring drunk. The hangover was the problem.
By the time he returned, she’d composed herself. She thanked him for the juice and sipped it gratefully. The sweet liquid cooled her raw throat. At least it was still dark so she didn’t have to see his face.
Just when she thought she might escape with a shred of dignity intact, he turned on the bedside lamp and pried the glass out of her clammy hand. He tossed back the rest of her drink and set it aside, wiping his mouth in a way that should’ve reminded her of a little kid but instead made her swallow hard. The ripple of his throat shouldn’t have reignited the heat in her belly, but dear God, it so did.
“You really want to get sick too, don’t you?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes in an effort not to meet his gaze. She could feel him staring at her and didn’t want to imagine how she must look. Who looked good while they were sniffling and hacking?
“Not worried.” He brushed her hair away from her face, his touch unbearably gentle. “You’re burning up.”
That explained why her clothes practically chafed her skin. She huffed out a breath and closed her eyes. “I’ll sleep it off.”
“How long’s it been since you took your medicine?”
“Dunno.” She curled up around her pillow, already drifting. But she woke in a hurry when a cold washcloth skimmed he
r forehead an instant before an icy stream of water trickled into her hair. “Dammit, Brad.”
“You need to cool off.” He nudged her up and sat behind her, cradling her body in his strong arms. He wiped her face, eventually reaching the back of her neck. She couldn’t deny it felt good, so she didn’t stop him.
She frowned, realizing the room was strangely silent. “Where’s Telly?” she asked, noticing his cage was gone.
“Downstairs. Didn’t want you to give him the avian flu.”
“I don’t have the avian flu, you ass.” But she giggle-coughed just the same.
He unlaced the top of her nightgown and smoothed the compress over her breasts. “See, you’re cooling right off,” he said against her ear, rubbing the wet washcloth over her shoulders.
Despite her near-slumber and general rundown state, her nipples perked up the minute his competent hands roused them. Since he still hadn’t covered her again, she figured they were probably standing sky high, but she was too tired to check. Everything below her forehead that didn’t ache felt numb.
“If you’re trying to take advantage of me, you’d probably get more resistance from a corpse.” She smiled as he tugged her earlobe. “So do what you must.”
“Oh yeah.” His irritated tone elicited a grin. “Watching your chin slump into your chest from exhaustion gives me a huge boner, let me tell you.”
It hurt her sore ribs to laugh, but she did it anyway. Her reward was yet another coughing fit. “I’m not used to having someone take care of me.”
“So? What’s the verdict?”
Already heading toward sleep again, she snuggled into his embrace. “I think I kind of like it.”
When Sara woke, he was gone. It didn’t really surprise her. What guy wanted to hang around the sick bed of a woman he had the hots for? At least he had before she’d been attacked by the super virus from hell.
She sat up and winced at the new pains that presented themselves. Her chest hurt, her back hurt, and her nose twitched with the near-constant need to sneeze. Charming. Good thing she had a nearly full bottle of cough syrup and a ton of movies to watch on Netflix because she so wasn’t going to work today.
