by Tina Beckett
So far, so good.
The best part was that he wasn’t directing her every move. She was free to go in whatever direction she chose.
And she chose this. Her thumbs hooked in the waistband of her scrubs and pushed them over her hips, then she stepped out of them. One corner of his mouth tilted, and when she chanced a glance down, she saw the spark of interest was holding steady. Okay, so it was more than a spark. Much, much more. The sight gave her a shot of confidence.
She could do this.
Measuring out another dose, her fingers plucked at the elastic band of her satin panties and she raised her eyebrows.
“Definitely.” His voice had dropped to a low growl.
Her cheeks heated, but she slid the underwear down, his eyes following her progress. Once off, her toes curled around the garment and nudged it towards the growing stack of clothes.
Now they were both naked. Both equal.
His arms opened up. “Come here.”
She moved back into the circle of his embrace and pressed her lips to his collarbone, adding a little bite like he’d done to her shoulder the last time they’d been together. A groan erupted from his chest when she moved over an inch and repeated the act, her tongue lapping over each spot. He tasted wonderful.
Brad’s hands went to her shoulders, kneading and stroking, his eyes closed as she made her way down his chest, licking beads of water from a masculine nipple as she went. His breath hissed through his teeth, fingers tightening on her for an instant or two before relaxing their grip, thumbs stroking the sides of her neck.
Lord, her body was already pulsing down below, and he hadn’t even touched her in any of those places yet. When he did …
She was going to go up in smoke.
Reaching his other nipple, she changed tactics, tightening her lips, her mouth tugging on it with slow, steady strokes.
“Hell, woman,” he ground out, one hand moving to fist in her hair, though whether to urge her to continue or pull her away she wasn’t sure … and didn’t really care. Because she was already on the move. Down his abdomen, following a thin, fascinating trail of hair.
The muscles of her stomach turned inside out, clenching and releasing, a terrible excitement building deep inside her.
The moment of truth.
She went down on her knees, the water on the floor of the shower warm and wet. Just like his skin. Just like between her legs. Closing her eyes, she kissed his thigh, his arousal brushing intimately along the side of her cheek as she drew her tongue in a slow arc up to his hip.
The hand in her hair tightened fractionally, drawing her back toward the middle.
“I want your mouth,” he whispered.
Chloe froze, familiar pressure crowding her chest, obstructing her throat.
She’d been planning to. And she wanted it. More than anything. She parted her lips and started to lean forward, but the past wouldn’t release its grip on her airway. Her breath came in terrifying gusts, her lungs sucking down every drop of oxygen they could find. Fear began to paralyze her body, shutting down one muscle group after another.
Her lids squeezed together. “I can’t.” A half-sob came out. “I can’t. I can’t.”
The second he let go of her hair, she lurched to her feet, forcing her legs to move.
Move, move, move.
She ran, her feet slipping once, before she regained her balance, her only goal: escape.
Brad caught her before she reached the door, damning himself to hell for his mistake. The second his arms wrapped around her waist, she broke into wrenching sobs that gutted him, branded him the worst kind of fiend. He’d been so caught up in the moment, in the exotic sensation of her lips brushing across his skin, that he’d forgotten she wasn’t like the women he normally went after. And Chloe had paid the price.
“Shh.” Still holding her, he lowered himself to the floor, ignoring the chill of the marble, until he had her cradled in his lap, her head pressed into his shoulder as she continued to cry. “It’s okay. God, Chloe, I’m sorry. I never should have …” He closed his eyes, his throat working against the flow of emotions.
What had he been thinking? He’d known all along he was not the right man for this job. He’d just proved himself right.
He kissed the top of her head as her sobs slowed, tightening his grip to make sure she didn’t try to run again, his hand stroking up and down her back. “Talk to me. Please.”
“I wanted to … but Travis …” Her voice cracked between words.
Something from one of their earlier conversations came to mind. The whole talk of being frigid, the affairs with other women. “What did he do, Chloe?”
She shook her head, avoiding his gaze.
“Tell me.” He forced his voice to remain soft, trying to coax it out of her.
“He m-made me do things.”
He blinked then, as her meaning took hold, raw fury rose in his chest filling his head. “He forced you?”
Her head tilted back and watery eyes met his. “No, he didn’t rape me. But he would tell me what he wanted, and then when I tried to do them … it hurt. Or …” she licked her lips “… I couldn’t breathe.”
Which explained exactly what had happened in the shower. What kind of bastard got his kicks from hurting someone like Chloe? “Why didn’t you tell someone or leave him?”
Her shoulders rose and fell. “I was convinced it was me. And our marriage was good in most other areas.” Her eyes closed. “At least, I thought it was. And I felt trapped, like there was no escape.”
Trapped. Just like he’d felt when locked in that closet as a child. Just like he felt now when any relationship started to go on for too long. And like Chloe, he’d never told anyone about what had happened … until Jason had asked about the padlock hanging open on the back door of his house. Locked doors still made him edgy, even today. Would it be the same for Chloe with sex?
He looked down into her eyes. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Ever. Do you understand me?”
“I wanted to. That’s just it. I wanted it to be good for you. I just … couldn’t.”
“Me being with you makes it good, Chloe. I get pleasure out of your pleasure.”
He watched as she digested that piece of information. When her brows puckered, and she appeared doubtful, he leaned back against the wall with a sigh, carrying her with him. “When I do something that makes you whimper, when you return my kisses—when my touch makes you fall apart. That’s what gives me pleasure.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
She scrubbed the back of her arm over her eyes. “I’m sorry. For taking off like that.”
He gave a soft laugh. “You scared me.”
She touched his face. “Can we try again?”
Was she serious? He’d already screwed up once. Didn’t trust himself not to do so again in the heat of the moment.
She reached up, her thumb brushing across his lower lip. “Please, Brad. I need to erase the bad memories and replace them with good ones.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He hesitated. He’d already told himself this was the end—that he was all wrong for this kind of thing—but her heartfelt words and the fact that his body was responding to her touch in a way that was impossible to hide made him rethink his decision. If he said he didn’t want to, she’d know he was lying, and the rejection might damage her more than she already was.
Helping her up, he went and switched off the shower then picked up two towels. Slinging one around his waist, he used the second one to dry Chloe off, patting every inch of her body then sliding the soft towel under and over her right breast, the nipple tightening as he did so. He repeated the act on the other side and lingered there until she leaned into the friction, her eyes fluttering closed.
His body responded instantly, and he put his mouth to her ear. “That’s what gets my motor running.” He dropped the towel to the floor and scooped her
up in his arms and carried her off to bed.
Chloe rolled over, her breathing ragged, while his senses were still firing like crazy.
Brad followed her, leaning on one elbow as he stared down at her flushed cheeks, the faint sheen of perspiration on her brow. He’d allowed her to find her own way this time, although it had nearly killed him, his body straining under the pressure of keeping still. The result had been well worth it.
He might never recover, in fact.
Experienced or not, she set him off the second she touched him.
And that mouth. Lord. He’d tried to draw her away before she got too close, but she’d brushed his hands aside, insisting. The heat of it as it had closed over his flesh …
He shuddered. It was like nothing he’d ever felt in his life.
The graphic image flashed through his skull, and he swallowed hard as a part of his anatomy defied gravity and stirred back to life. So soon.
What the hell was she doing to him?
“You’re a witch,” he whispered, reaching to brush her hair from her forehead, needing the contact, wishing he could roll her on her back and start all over again. But he didn’t want to scare her.
Not the way he was scaring himself.
He’d never minded the mirrors the former occupants had left over his bed. Until today. Seeing their entwined images reflected back at him had taken his normally icy control and shaved it down to nothing. He’d barely lasted until she’d climaxed.
Her lips curved and she caught his hand, carrying it to her chest where her heart beat strong and firm against his palm. “So it was okay?”
“More than okay. Much more.”
That was another problem. The sex had been good. Really good. Which could create problems down the road. As a doctor, he was used to patients—pregnant though they might be—getting a little case of hero-worship when the team helped them right a troubled pregnancy.
Chloe had been stuck in a terrible marriage, with a man who’d selfishly used her and given nothing back. Hell, anyone would look better than what she’d had. And she’d had her first man-made orgasm less than a week ago. The last thing he needed was for her to become infatuated with him. Because he couldn’t be locked into a relationship. He’d feel as trapped as she had with Travis—as trapped as he’d felt as a kid. Things could turn ugly really quickly if he wasn’t careful.
He dropped onto his back and put his hands behind his head, not bothering to cover himself. His reflection stared back at him, his need still very much in evidence. Disgusted, he flicked his glance over a couple of inches and found Chloe’s eyes on him as well. Great.
Those mirrors were being ripped down from that damned ceiling the first chance he got.
As if realizing something was wrong, Chloe’s brow puckered. “You okay?”
“Peachy.”
Her head twisted sideways, looking at the real him, rather than the image above them. “Brad?”
Her voice had gone from purring contentment to uncertainty.
He was damned if he did. Damned if he didn’t.
Well, then, he might as well make sure he was as damned as possible.
He reached for her and hauled her on top of him. “I’m fine. Just wondering if you’ve had enough lessons for one night?”
As if he’d actually taught her anything. She had been the one who’d taught him a thing or two.
“Can you? I mean, aren’t you … done?”
He slowly ground against her. “Does it feel like I’m done?”
She gave a soft laugh. “I had no idea it was even possible.”
“Yeah, well, neither did I.” He nuzzled the fragrant skin just below her chin. “Which is why I’ve decided you’re a witch.”
Chloe wiggled her body until she was positioned at just the right spot, then slowly took him inside her, the air hissing from his lungs as the impossible became entirely probable. And any argument he might have made vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving only him and Chloe … and the fiery need that threatened to consume him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE SOUND OF a buzzer awoke her, along with Brad’s muffled curse.
“What is it?” she asked, cracking her eyelids and trying to focus on the glowing numbers of the clock. Eight o’clock. On Saturday. Wow, it was hard to imagine a week had gone by since that fiasco in the shower. A week of sharing Brad’s bed. If she squinted her eyes just right, she could almost pretend they were in a normal relationship.
“It’s the interphone. It must be the doorman. I’ll see what he wants.”
Levering himself out of bed, he walked to the door, his naked butt the best kind of eye candy there was. Chloe propped herself up on her elbow to watch, all thoughts of sleep gone. A second or two out of the room, she heard a thump and then a strangled curse.
She smiled. Not quite as cheerful this morning as she’d thought he’d be. Well, she was in a happy mood today. She’d gotten word yesterday that her paperwork at the hospital had gone through. She was officially part of the Angel’s team. She and Brad had gone out last night to celebrate. Then had come back to the apartment and had another celebration. A much more private one.
She felt like a child who’s just gotten her first taste of chocolate and couldn’t stop gobbling it up, even though she knew she was eventually going to pay for her greed. But Brad was an intensely passionate—and pretty much insatiable—lover. Which served her purposes to a T. She’d never thought she’d see soreness as a good thing. But this was a different kind of discomfort, one that served as a reminder of all the pleasure that had gone on before.
Brad appeared in the doorway. “Get dressed.”
The barked order took her by surprise. “What?”
He was already rummaging in his dresser for some clean briefs and dragging them over his hips. “Your brother is on his way up.”
“Jason?” Her mind went blank for an instant before she realized exactly what Brad was saying. “Oh, my God,” she shrieked, leaping out of bed.
Scurrying around, trying to round up her clothes, she yanked on the nearest article she could find, her shirt. Then found her jeans.
“Chloe.”
“What?” Her voice was sharp with panic as she shimmied into the garment.
His hands circled her upper arms as he looked down at her, his eyes dark. “You might want to rethink your top. Unless you want me to drag you back to bed while your brother waits in the living room.”
“My …” She glanced down and realized that not only was her white T-shirt on backwards but her nipples were clearly visible through the thin fabric. A very unladylike word exited her mouth followed by more panicked flailing as she tore apart the bedclothes in search of her errant bra.
“Looking for this?”
She cut a glance his way and found the item dangling from a lean index finger, his lips curved in amusement. Worse, he was already dressed, looking immaculately groomed except for the dark stubble lining his face.
He also looked perfectly edible.
Snatching her undergarment with a glare meant to cut him in two, she ripped her T-shirt back over her head and jabbed her arms through the bra straps. Her hands were shaking and she couldn’t get the thing hooked at the back. Brad came to the rescue, snapping it, then his hands curved around to cup her breasts.
“Stop it.” The man really was overwhelming sometimes. How could he be so blasé?
He did as she asked, but his raised brows said he was just as cool as he seemed.
And that doorbell was going to ring at any second. She turned her shirt right side out and yanked it on.
What were they going to tell Jason?
Nothing. She was a big girl, she didn’t owe him an explanation. But he and Brad were best friends. She didn’t want to jeopardize that.
She dragged her hands through her hair. “How do I look?”
“You want the truth?”
Her glance went back to her chest. Nothing was sticking out that she could see. Both girls wer
e belted in place. “Yes, I want the truth.”
“You look like you spent all night in my bed.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, God. That’s not good.”
He put his hands on either side of her face and planted a hard kiss on her lips. “I disagree. It was very good.”
“But my brother …”
“Isn’t going to know what happened unless you tell him.” He skimmed a finger across her cheek. “Or unless you keep blushing every time I look at you.”
She closed her eyes and sucked down a few quick breaths.
The bell at the front door went off, and she grabbed Brad’s arm to keep herself upright.
“Relax,” he said. “It’s going to be fine.”
The trip to the front door felt like she was marching to her own funeral. “No blushing. No blushing. No blushing.”
Brad gave her a quick look as he put his hand on the doorknob then he pulled open the door. There stood Jason, a bouquet of daisies propped in the crook of his arm.
“Sorry for the short notice. I had some business in the city and thought I’d check and see how Chloe is doing.”
Chloe was doing just fine. Until now.
Brad glanced her way, and her cheeks tingled, a sure sign that blood was about to be pumped into them. Time for damage control.
“I’m fine.” The tingle turned to warmth, and Jason’s eyes narrowed.
“Has Travis been bothering you? Because Mom and Dad warned him there would be repercussions—”
“No, he hasn’t.” Let’s just change this subject, shall we? “But I am thinking about staying in the city on a permanent basis.”
“What? The folks think you should come home. Stay with them for a while.”
Brad spoke up for the first time, his voice smooth and sure. “The hospital has offered her a job. I think she’s old enough to decide what she wants to do.”
She was certainly old enough to share Brad’s bed. Something she prayed Jason didn’t figure out.
Her brother looked from one to the other before his gaze settled back on Chloe. “Where are you going to live?”
You mean once my lessons end and I’m declared frost-free?
