by Tina Beckett
When he’d said “nothing”, he hadn’t been kidding. Brad kept her breathless with a steady stream of kisses. His tongue mimicked the sex act, varying the rate and timing of his thrusts until she was moaning into his mouth, her hands trying to force his head even closer.
Then his warm hand slid over her belly and teased her thighs apart, one finger sliding effortlessly inside her before she had time to tense up. It moved deeper, taking up the same rhythm as his tongue.
Oh!
His palm hit the most sensitive place on her body at the exact moment his tongue and finger were at their deepest. It repeated with each and every stroke. Her body went wild with want. Climbing rapidly.
Oh, God, she was going to lose it all over again. Before he’d had a chance to …
But, no, he was moving over her body, his weight settling heavily between her legs, so she couldn’t clamp them shut. This time she did tense.
“Shh.” His voice was at her ear, the low rumble coming out almost pained. “Relax. I won’t hurt you. Promise.”
Promise.
She could still grab his arms, and he’d stop. He’d promised he would.
They wrapped around his back instead. He wouldn’t hurt her.
His teeth nibbled across her jaw just as she felt him pause outside her entrance. She gulped as he dipped just inside then withdrew. Nice and easy. He repeated the action and her body seemed to draw him in a bit further, her hips rising to meet him this time.
It didn’t hurt. He hadn’t slammed into her like she’d expected—like she was used to. And instead of burning friction, she felt the smooth, steady glide of his body against hers.
She licked her lips and used the pressure of her hands on his back to ask for a little more. He gave it.
Further this time.
Two more strokes and he was all the way inside her, and the sensation was …
Heavenly. Stretching, full, but in a good way. Such a good way.
She lifted her hips again, and Brad matched her movement for movement. His hand slid between their bodies and found her again, coaxing her with his touch.
“Watch me, Chloe,” he whispered, his teeth nipping the joint between her shoulder and her neck, wringing another moan from her throat.
Her lids parted, and she realized they’d been screwed shut since the moment he’d lain beside her on the bed. And since his lips were still against her neck, still torturing her with slow sensual love bites, her eyes were drawn to the expanse of mirrors above her head and the breath whooshed from her lungs.
What she felt, she could now see. The room was dim enough that their bodies didn’t stand out in stark relief. Instead the play of light and shadow held her captive.
Brad’s muscular haunches were tensing and releasing with each thrust, his elbows resting on either side of her shoulders. The double dose of sight and sensation was intoxicating. She saw everything. The teeth digging into her bottom lip, the arch of her neck as his mouth dragged inch by inch along her shoulder, punctuating each kiss with a bite.
Thrust … release. Thrust … release.
She lifted her hips faster, harder, still watching the ghostly reflections above her. Brad’s fingers, which had been gently stroking the sensitized flesh between her legs, suddenly moved, trapping the nub between his thumb and forefinger, his head lifting to stare at her with an intensity that was frightening as his fingers echoed the pumping going on in other places. Her body went wild, and she bucked against him, desperation pouring over her in waves.
Hurry. Hurry. Hurry. Hurr—
Chloe screamed as it hit her.
“Yes!” The word hissed across her cheek as Brad went impossibly deep and planted himself there, the contractions inside her intensifying until she wondered if she could ever make it back from such a place.
The only coherent thought she could capture was that he had been right. It didn’t hurt.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
JASON WAS GOING to skin him alive.
Glancing at the ceiling, the evidence of all he’d done was right next to him curled in a ball, her hip pressed against his side, his arm stretched along her thigh. The tattoo on his shoulder tingled, remembering her lips trailing over it the previous night. He brought his hand up to scrub away the sensation.
A thin sheet was all that covered her nakedness, much like the coat she’d worn that first night.
That sheet hadn’t been anywhere around when he’d finally carried her to his bed. It was as if he’d unleashed something wild and elemental in Chloe, her second orgasm creating an explosion that had engulfed them both within seconds.
Is it always like this? Her words had gutted him. Made him take her when he should have simply given her release and then set her free.
If Jason was out for blood, Brad knew exactly whose he should start with.
Against his will, he stroked her leg as he continued to stare at her in the overhead mirror. Soft hair, mussed and tangled from his fingers. Warm body that had welcomed him home not once but twice last night.
He swallowed as his flesh tightened all over again at the memory of what they’d done together. Chloe had straddled him, just like in his earlier fantasies, but not at his insistence. She’d taken the lead that second time, hesitating only a second or two when he’d winced, his struggle to hang on becoming a physical effort that had rivaled anything he’d ever done.
When she’d frowned and asked him if he was okay, he had only been able to groan an affirmation at the gorgeous creature who’d become a siren of the worst sort, leading him to his doom as surely as those ancient sailors had been.
The question was, what did he do about her?
He couldn’t bring himself to regret what they’d done because Chloe had needed to discover the truth about good sex. And it had been good. Too good. The temptation was there to keep taking what she offered. To drink his fill and then move on, just like he always did.
Just as he always would.
He shifted his body to the side and wrapped his arm around her, drawing her against him. For now he would just enjoy the feel of her body, the scent of her skin. And then he’d try to forget any of this had ever happened.
“Chloe, that’s abuse.” The concern in Layla’s eyes was evident even beneath the shadowy canopy of trees in the park. “Tell me you’re not going back to him.”
Chloe wondered if she’d made a mistake telling her new friend about Travis, but she’d had to talk to someone. And when Layla had mentioned wanting to get out of the hospital for a while, carrying their coffee cups to Central Park had seemed like the obvious solution.
Layla motioned to the park bench, and Chloe gladly parked herself on it.
She took a careful sip of her coffee. “I’m not going back. But it’s a little more complicated than that.”
“More complicated than your husband humiliating you in bed, and then … cheating on you?” There was a strange hesitation in those last three words, as if Layla had had to push them out from somewhere deep inside her.
Should she tell her friend the extent of it? May as well. She’d already told her the worst part.
Because it was.
The night with Brad had been fabulous, wrenching a reaction from deep within her soul. One she’d never dreamed possible.
It made her realize Layla’s words were true. Not only had Travis been all about taking everything for himself during their encounters, he’d done things during the act that had hurt her physically—nothing overt but subtle things that she now wondered if he’d done on purpose. Maybe punishing her for not doing exactly what he wanted.
Brad, on the other hand … She closed her eyes and sighed. Was she setting herself up for heartache of a different sort?
“I slept with Brad last night.”
“Brad?” Layla’s mouth popped open. “Brad Davis? Our Brad Davis?”
Okay, so hearing it put in those terms wasn’t the most reassuring thing in the world.
Chloe nodded. “So technically I’ve ch
eated on Travis as well.”
A hand covered hers. “Oh, honey. You’re talking apples and oranges here. You’ve filed for divorce, right?”
“I’ve talked to a lawyer. He’s drawing up the paperwork. The sooner this is over, the better.”
“Good.” A jogger went past, and they both waited until he was some distance away before either spoke. “Is it awkward, seeing Brad at work?”
“You have no idea.”
He’d already been up and out of bed when she’d awoken this morning. Neither of them had said anything about what had happened, and Chloe had been glad. She’d wolfed down the bacon and eggs Brad had made, surprised by how hungry she was. And also by how energized her body felt. She was sore, but it was a good soreness. Brad had brought her to completion each time before giving in to his own needs. Were all men except Travis like that?
“Oh, I think I do.” Layla’s soft words pulled her from her thoughts. For a panicky moment she thought her friend was saying that she’d slept with Brad as well, but there’d been no hint of anything between them when he’d asked Layla to show her around the hospital.
“I don’t understand?”
Layla leaned back and crossed her legs, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from her navy pants. “Alex Rodriguez.”
“What about him?”
When the other woman turned toward her, her nose crinkling, Chloe got the message. “Oh. You two …”
“A long time ago.” There was a long pause. “I was married to someone else at the time.”
So she hadn’t just pretended to know what Chloe was going through. She’d been through something similar.
“So are you and Alex still together?” Chloe had never seen the legendary neurosurgeon in person, but there was a kind of awe that hung in the air whenever his name was mentioned.
“No. After I left LA, I never thought I’d see him again. I didn’t even realize he was at Angel’s until the day of my interview.”
“How awful.” She put her arm around Layla’s shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze.
“It has been.” Layla smiled. “It feels so good to be able to tell someone about it.”
Chloe thought for a minute. The last thing she wanted to do was go home and face Brad after what had happened the night before. And it sounded like Layla could use some downtime as well. “Why don’t we go out tonight after work? Just us girls? There’s a tapas bar in the meatpacking district that’s supposed to be great. We can grab a bite to eat and drown our sorrows.”
As long as she stuck to frozen daiquiris, rather than straight whiskey, she should be fine.
“I’d love that. What time do you get off?”
“Six.”
“Great. Do you want to meet in the lobby?”
“Sounds good.”
Layla took one last sip of her coffee then crumpled her cup. “So … how was it?”
“How was what?”
Her friend’s brows went up, and she gave her a pointed smile. “The sex. With Brad.”
Draining her own coffee cup, Chloe climbed to her feet, her cheeks heating. “It was … amazing.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHLOE CRACKED OPEN another peanut and popped it into her mouth.
The noise in the tapas bar was unbelievable, especially for a Thursday night. She and Layla had to almost yell to be heard. But it was just as well. Her own churning thoughts seemed to leach away into the chaos that surrounded them. It did feel good to get away for a while, which brought up another point. If she was going to stay in New York, she was going to need to get her own place.
That was, if Brad still wanted her to stay.
Why wouldn’t he? He’d been with Katrina after all and had still expected to work with the woman afterwards. Was this any different?
No. She could be just as much of a grown-up as Brad. No more of this idealistic naivety she’d carried around with her for the last six years. Travis may not have knocked it completely out of her, but the reality of the way Brad lived his life sure had. He seemed to have everything together and was perfectly happy. No wonder he’d laughed at her for wanting to hang onto her virginity until marriage. And he was right. What had it gotten her?
No, it was time to make some changes, starting now.
Layla’s hand suddenly went to her wrist and squeezed. Blinking at her, Chloe saw her friend mouth, “Oh, God.”
She followed Layla’s gaze, and her own eyes widened. Brad had just walked through the door with another man.
Oh, no! She’d left a note on his desk, saying she was going out to dinner with a friend. She’d assumed he’d head home, although she had no idea why.
Her head suddenly pounded. What if he was here to pick up a woman? Ugh! Maybe she could crawl beneath a table and hide.
But if Chloe was horrified, Layla looked positively stricken, her face as pale as a ghost’s. Looking back at the men, she realized why.
That had to be Alex.
The men were almost the same height with wide shoulders and powerful frames, but whereas Brad’s hair was an inky black, the other man’s was a shade or two lighter. Female heads followed their progress as they made their way deeper into the place, and just when Chloe hoped they’d head to the bar without noticing them, Brad’s eyes swept the interior and found hers.
Oh, hell.
He bumped the other man’s shoulder and nodded their way.
“Please, no.” Even through sounds of clinking glasses and noisy conversations Layla’s quiet plea came through loud and clear. But there was nothing to do but sit there and watch the nightmare unfold.
Of course the only available table when they’d first arrived had been one with four chairs. And the place was still packed. Any hope of scrambling away or slipping out the door was long gone. Even now, the two men headed toward them.
Brad stood behind one of the empty chairs. “I got your note and assumed you were headed for O’Malley’s. I guess I assumed wrong.”
O’Malley’s was the hospital staff’s go-to place for drinks after work. Was that why Brad had come here instead? Hoping to avoid her? Her heart contracted even more as Alex nodded towards Layla and said hello. Knowing what she did now, this had to be unbearably awkward for Layla. But she displayed none of the panic from a few minutes ago. Instead, her face was as cool as her smile, and she motioned to one of the chairs. “Do you want to sit?”
Brad glanced at her, one brow lifted in challenge. She gave a quick shrug. If he wanted to sit, who was she to stop him? He drew the chair a little closer, crowding her a bit. When his elbow touched her arm as he reached for the peanut bowl, she froze, a quick shiver running through her.
The other man sat as well but, unlike Brad, he kept his distance from Layla. A waitress came over to take their order.
“I’ll have a whiskey. Neat.” Brad smiled at Chloe’s frozen daiquiri. “I see you’re going for the lighter stuff nowadays. Smart girl. Especially if you end up being our designated driver.”
Was he making a reference to her behavior the last time she’d tried drinking straight whiskey?
“Drive your bike?” she said. “No thanks.”
A slow smile went across his face. “But you don’t mind taking a ride every once in a while.”
Her face heated as Layla and Alex both turned to look at her. The question on Layla’s face was as plain as day.
She ignored it and shifted her glance to the neurosurgeon, taking in his brooding eyes, wide shoulders, long fingers drumming on the table’s Formica surface. The man was freaking gorgeous. No wonder Layla had fallen hard and fast for him all those years ago.
“So how did you two wind up in the meatpacking district?” Layla asked.
“We were trying to get away from the crowds,” Alex said.
Layla’s brows went up, and her lips twitched. “So were we.”
Instead, Brad and Alex had found the two people who were trying to avoid this very meeting. And while she and Layla were having to work to be heard, the men’
s voices seemed to carry with ease, seemingly unaffected by the room’s noise.
“Have you ordered dinner?” Brad’s arm went to the back of her chair in a strangely proprietorial move that would have made her laugh under different circumstances. But now it just made her nervous. Did he think she was going to practice her flirting skills on Alex or something? And there was no way she would, even if she were tempted. Not after what Layla had told her.
“We ordered appetizers.” She licked her lips. “We can share if you’d like.”
Something touched the back of her blouse and she almost jumped out of her skin before she realized it was his thumb, stroking back and forth from its perch on the chair. She stared straight ahead, afraid that if she looked at him he’d flash that lazy smile at her that turned her words to gibberish and her insides to mush.
“I might share,” he said. “Or I might want more of the same. It depends on what you’re having.”
More of the same?
Good heavens. Was he talking about food or their time under those mirrors? This man was out of her league in so many ways.
“I’m having sh-shrimp cocktail.” Yep, even without looking at him she was having trouble getting her words out.
Layla spoke up. “I’m having nachos.”
“Sounds good to me.” Alex’s eyes fastened on Layla’s and the other woman went pink. If Chloe hadn’t known better, she’d think there was still something between these two.
Thankfully, once the men’s drinks arrived and the extra appetizers had been ordered, Alex and Brad proceeded to talk shop, trying to see who’d had the oddest cases over the years. Some of them made everyone at the table laugh, and some were just plain bizarre. When Cade’s name came up later in the conversation Brad’s mouth thinned as he asked how he’d come to be in New York.
Alex paused for a moment, before shaking his head. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
Layla caught her eye, the pediatrician’s released breath puffing out her cheeks before she mouthed, “Can you believe this?”
Her thoughts exactly. Chloe’s laugh changed to a cough when both men stopped to look at her.
