Billionaire Doctor, Ordinary Nurse

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘I’ll ask her at work on Monday,’ George said firmly, as Annie just rolled her eyes.

  ‘No, you won’t. Why don’t you go over there and ask her now?’

  ‘Now?’ George blinked as the music ended.

  ‘Now!’

  ‘Oh, hello, sir, I mean Iosef…’ George gratefully jumped at the diversion of Iosef walking past. ‘Great wedding, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s been OK. I’m just going to head off home now…’ And from somewhere George must have found his courage because without a single word he bolted off towards Melanie, leaving Annie standing with Iosef on the dance floor, feeling horribly awkward as the music started up again.

  ‘Dance?’

  ‘I’ve had enough of duty for one day!’

  ‘Stop sulking.’ Iosef grinned.

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Stop sulking and dance.’

  It unsettled her how relieved she felt.

  How blissful it felt to be in his arms, and the effects of a week of little food was nothing to the dizzying heights he took her to.

  ‘I’ve actually been wanting to dance with you all night.’ His low whisper made her ears tickle and she squirmed in pleasure but tried to stay cool.

  ‘Then why didn’t you?’

  ‘Same as you—duty first.’

  And because he’d danced with everyone, because he’d worked the room, no one gave them a second glance, and for that Annie was grateful, grateful too to just close her eyes and sway to the music with him. She could feel the heat of his palm in the small of her back, feel his warm breath on her bare shoulder, his heavy scent filling her nostrils. Combined with the intoxicating memory of his lips on hers, the combination was lethal.

  ‘You look amazing!’

  ‘Thanks.’ He wasn’t the first to have told her that, Annie reminded herself—after all it was obligatory for people to say that to the bridesmaids. ‘I don’t always look this good.’

  ‘Modest, too!’ He laughed.

  ‘I didn’t mean that…’ She shook her head against his shoulder. How could she explain that this rather passable parcel was down to weeks of preparation, that the very groomed woman he held in his arms was an absolute one-off?

  He lowered his head slightly, so close his chin was dusting her cheek as he whispered in the shell of her ear.

  ‘You smell amazing.’

  Now, that wasn’t expected—she could feel her throat tighten, a knot of anticipation tightening in her stomach as his breath tickled her ear.

  ‘You feel amazing.’ There was just a small increase of pressure on her back. Her stomach curled inside. She almost wept in frustration as the slow music stopped and couples stood back a fraction and clapped or frantically ran for freedom. Annie knew she ought to go. This man was so potently sexual it would be so, so easy to say or do something she might regret, so pathetically easy to misread the signs and make an utter fool of herself.

  And anyway he had a girlfriend.

  Thanking him, she turned to go, desperate almost for the normality of Melanie or the safety of the loos, where she could splash her burning face in cool water, but Iosef caught her hand.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I ought to—’

  ‘You ought to relax.’ He gave a lazy smile. ‘Jackie’s gone, your duties are all over, you can enjoy the last dance. Anyway…’ he pulled her back to him ‘…it would be very rude to leave me like this!’

  She didn’t know what he meant, not sure if she’d misunderstood, but as his hands drew her in, as her body returned from whence it had been, like a dint in the pillow, her head returned to its rightful place, she knew that she hadn’t misinterpreted, knew for sure that she hadn’t when he held her just that little bit closer.

  ‘Let’s hope this is a very long dance…’ His voice was low and husky in her ear—shockingly inappropriate but so very, very sexy. He brushed against her as they moved. She could see her colleagues drifting past as they danced or sat on the sidelines and chatted. Perhaps there’d be a few nudges, but he’d danced with enough women to ensure the spotlight wasn’t on them now and not a single person watching would have guessed what was going on before their eyes.

  She’d never felt like this.

  Just dancing with him mocked a hundred times over the efforts of lovers who had quickly come and gone! Arousal coursed through her, thick arousal that moved slowly through her body, stirring her as it went, each throb of the music resonating through her body, each breath, each movement of her chest somehow unfathomably provocative, his breath shorter now in her ear.

  ‘I want to kiss you.’

  ‘You can’t.’

  ‘But I want to.’

  ‘Well…’ She could hardly breathe, let alone speak. ‘You can’t.’

  ‘Not your lips.’ Iosef’s mouth painted a decadent picture as still he whispered in her ear. ‘Your skin.’

  ‘You can’t.’ She could hardly get the words out, knowing she’d regret it—not the kiss but the audience.

  ‘Since that night all I want is to kiss you again…’

  Which put paid to the theory he’d forgotten. Oh, and she wanted him to kiss her, wanted his mouth on her shoulder, wanted to press herself against him so badly it was indecent, she could hardly swallow, the air so thick with lust, her breasts stinging as they strained at her dress, and as the music stilled, as the lights came on, Annie felt like she was waking up from some erotic dream, the hotel ballroom full of limp balloons and plates of half-eaten food, a thousand dirty glasses littering the tables and in front of her, a rather red-faced Melanie holding George’s hand.

  ‘I know we were going to share a taxi but George has offered to give me a lift.’ Her eyes were wide with apology and pleading. ‘Though we can drop you off first.’

  ‘It’s a bit out of your way…’ Annie smiled. ‘I’ll get my own taxi.’

  ‘I guess I can give you a lift home—do you live near?’

  Iosef said it so reluctantly that if they hadn’t just been on the dance floor, Annie would have sworn he was just being reluctantly polite, not that Melanie cared. ‘You’re an angel, Iosef. ‘’Night, then…’ She practically ran out of the ballroom, but by the time Annie had collected her bag, it didn’t seem such a good idea any more. OK, he’d seen her tiny flat, but she couldn’t possibly ask him back now, could she? And what if…?

  ‘I’m just going to the ladies’.’

  ‘Sure.’

  It was one of those completely fabulous ladies’ rooms—discreet music filling the perfumed air, mirrors everywhere, baskets full of fluffy white hand towels even at this late hour. Despite not needing to use the loo, Annie used her time wisely. She drew a deep breath as she stared in the mirror at her flushed face—and unlike Melanie it had nothing to do with too much champagne.

  Her thick, glossy, for once straight hair fell over one heavily made-up eye, her body was a delicious golden brown, even her lipstick was still on—never again would she look this good and never again would she have the opportunity to spend the night with someone as divine as Iosef Kolovsky.

  It would never work…Running her wrists under the tap, Annie gave herself a harsh talking to.

  She’d surely regret it in the morning.

  She worked with him, for heaven’s sake. Imagine facing him on Monday…

  No, she’d tell him thanks very much for the offer, but she’d take a taxi home.

  Pulling the door open, she stepped out into the foyer with resolve, jumping slightly when from the shadows he caught her wrist.

  ‘I was thinking—’

  ‘Don’t.’ His lips were moving in on her and there was nowhere to go except against the wall.

  ‘Maybe we should…’ She didn’t finish the sentence. His mouth was where her neck met her shoulder, and like a reflex action Annie’s head arched to the side, her eyes closing as his tongue worked its magic. ‘Maybe…I…should…’ Each word was an effort, each word forced out between breaths, each word refuted by the bod
y that was wilting before him. ‘Just…get…a…taxi…’

  ‘Why?’ He came up for air, pinning her with his eyes,

  ‘Because…we might regret it…’

  ‘We might…’ He kissed her, his tongue forcing her lips apart, stroking her as if he were stroking her somewhere deep inside, then coming up for air, slowly licking his lips as if tasting her again. ‘But I’ll definitely regret it if we don’t. I’ve wanted you since I saw you.’

  ‘You weren’t nice…’

  ‘Doesn’t mean I didn’t want you.’

  Don’t play dangerous games. He’d told her that himself, warned her perhaps of what she was taking on, and he was dangerous.

  Brooding, autocratic and lethally sexy, she knew nothing about him, yet she craved more.

  ‘You’ve been…’ She could hardly breathe, hardly get the words out. ‘Ignoring me.’

  ‘You try to resist what is bad for you—that is what I’ve been doing.’

  ‘How could I be bad for you?’ She gave a tiny shrill giggle, but Iosef wasn’t laughing. He pressed her harder against the wall, his lips working up along her neck, making her shiver as he spoke between hot kisses.

  ‘It is foolish to get involved with someone you work with.’

  ‘I know!’ Annie breathed.

  ‘I am not available for a relationship.’

  ‘You’re seeing someone?’

  ‘I’m not available for anyone…’

  ‘Candy?’ Bravely she voiced the question, the single word halting him in mid-kiss. Passion flushed features coming into focus as he raised his head to hers.

  ‘There is nothing there for you to concern yourself with.’

  ‘But I do…’ She should have persisted, Annie knew that, should have asked for clarification, should have made damn sure she knew exactly how deep the water was before she dived in, but his lips were on her shoulders again, his parted mouth kissing her flesh so deeply it hurt, actually, deliciously, hurt. Lust was the deadliest of sins, Annie decided when finally he pulled back, his pupils dilated, his full mouth moist from their kiss. Reaching in his pocket, he held up a key.

  Lust was surely the deadliest sin because it so readily paved the way for others—and greed was the first to make itself known. She wanted him so much, so fiercely, that her self-control was completely shot. He lowered his head, kissed the top of her cleavage, kissed it so deeply she thought she might come right there, right there in the shadows of the lobby, her breath catching as his fingers pushed the cool metal key between them, her nipples so hard she nearly wept for the cool of his mouth.

  ‘I’ve booked you a room.’

  ‘Me?’ Annie gulped, and he nodded.

  ‘This time,’ he said slowly, ‘I want you to ask me in.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  AN OLD-FASHIONED lift hurtled them to the top floor as Annie’s blood pressure did the same. The doors finally opened and they stepped into a hallway with gorgeous mosaic tiles that echoed as she walked along and came to the room he’d booked for her.

  ‘Do you need a hand?’

  Her hands were shaking so much she probably did. Any fantasy she had of suavely opening the door and inviting him in vanished in a puff of smoke when he witnessed her rather clumsy efforts at retrieval. But he was in absolutely no rush to go anywhere, making her task near impossible as he shamelessly pulled down the zipper of her dress, his fingers taking down the straps. Shocked, aroused, her eyes searched the deserted corridor for a night porter, her breath heaving in hard, quick gasps as she soon stood naked from the waist up except for a flimsy bra.

  ‘Someone might come,’ Annie gasped.

  ‘Then you’d better hurry up and get inside.’

  Her lacy bra was the target of his attentions now. His head lowered and his mouth closed in on one nipple through the flimsy material, then pulled back just enough to voice his question. ‘Well—are you going to ask me in?’

  Annie took a breath, trying, and failing, to gather her chaotic thoughts.

  His fingers were inside her bra now, one spray-tanned breast standing erect and quivering with freedom. At last, she retrieved the key and, holding it up, caught the glint of triumph in his eyes as she stood before him drenched in desire and trepidation. Since she’d first laid eyes on him, Annie had wanted him. He was out of her league, she would never have knowingly pursued him, but she must have been flirting, sending out tiny subliminal messages that clearly he’d registered. Like teasing a panther in the zoo, waving and poking out her tongue with the assurance of a locked door—but now he was out of the cage, now this sleek beautiful, untamed animal was pressing her to the wall and ready to play…

  Trembling fingers somehow pushed the key into the lock and turned it, registering that she was terrified of the beast she’d unleashed but excited nonetheless.

  ‘I’m not…’ She attempted to be straight with him, her wide eyes taking in the vast bed, her body a quivering bundle of nerves and desire, positive, positive she wasn’t up to the challenge but frantic to attempt it. ‘Iosef, I’m not…’

  ‘Not what?’

  He was kissing her again, pushing her already unzippered dress up over her bottom till she stood only in Jackie’s outrageous choice of underwear and a great wad of mocha silk around her waist. His hands ran over her suspenders and dug into her bottom and she closed her eyes in horror at the thought of the firm, toned bottoms he was surely more used to encountering. The nubile, sophisticated, experienced lovers he was surely used to, the women who would know how to excite him. Woefully sure she didn’t fit the bill, that for him disappointment could only ensue, panic fizzed inside her. ‘I’m not very good at making love!’ There, she’d said it. Her admission had been delivered in a shrill voice, her apology for teasing him, for playing with fire all there in that rapid, short sentence. Only he didn’t seem to be listening. Instead, he was kissing her with more force. His hands had left her bottom and were by his sides, only their lips in contact, but with so much force that if she didn’t want to topple over then she had no choice but to move backwards. Any further attempt to speak was silenced by his mouth, then the back of the bed was pressing into her thighs. She had nowhere to go except the bed, but he didn’t let her fall, instead cupping her bottom again as he pressed her heat to his, his fierce erection a taste of what was to come as he brushed away her excuses.

  ‘I do the making!’

  And, boy, did he!

  Sixteen and a half years ago her sister had done her homework for her.

  And sixteen years ago she’d had to sit through speech day—had had to accept an award for work she hadn’t done, had wanted to stand up in front of a terrifying crowd and admit she really didn’t deserve it, hadn’t done a single thing to merit it, actually.

  The random memory popped into her mind as this gorgeous man pushed her down on the bed. She was tempted to stand up and declare that she really wasn’t that good, that she really didn’t merit such attention as his mouth worked his way up her thighs, kissing and nibbling her soft flesh through silk stockings, that she really wasn’t that deserving…

  ‘You taste fantastic…’ Even though she had her panties on it didn’t stop him. He pulled them to one side, his tongue doing wicked things, dotting the i in the most decadent of ways, pushing, tearing fifteen hundred dollars’ worth of mocha silk over her head and dispensing with her bra. He was so into her, so consuming, so blatant with his adoration, so feverishly good it was impossible not to feel amazing.

  It was impossible not to feel the most wanton sexual being, when the most wanton, sexual being of them all thought that you were. ‘Oh, Annie…’ Over and over he said it as he tasted her, over and over he said it as his mouth worked its way upwards, kissing her stomach, her breasts, her neck, her lips as she writhed beneath him. ‘I have wanted you so much…’

  Wow!

  It was her last coherent thought as he sucked on her shoulder, her last grasp at reality as he plunged inside her, and for Annie it should have been over, tig
htening muscles dragging him in, her mind whirring as she screamed his name. But Iosef was as good as his word, Iosef still doing the making, kissing her, teasing her, as he bucked deep inside her, taking her to the heights then starting the ride all over again.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘LEVANDER’S the one who just got married?’

  They were lying in the rumpled bed—dawn still a little way off—warm and relaxed and thoroughly exhausted. Never had Annie felt more wonderful, lying unabashed and utterly adored in his arms, giggling as they spoke in intimate whispers.

  ‘He lives in the UK now—Aleksi is back here in Australia.’

  ‘Your twin?’ Annie checked. ‘Does he look like you?’

  ‘Of course.’ Iosef smiled. ‘I told you—we’re identical. Though our personalities are different.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘He can be a bit arrogant, moody…’ His lips curved into a smile as she raised her eyebrows. ‘I am nothing like that!’ Iosef said indignantly. ‘Aleksi is very driven, focused…’ Giving in as her brows rose higher, he gave a low laugh. ‘Maybe we are similar after all.’

  ‘Gee!’ Anne blew her fringe skywards as she considered the impossible. ‘Do you think I’d be able to tell the….’ Her voice trailed off as she decided that her question was rather unsuitable, but Iosef just laughed.

  He was toying with her nipple. Tender and raw from earlier attention, he was drawing it out to an indecent length,

  ‘To you he would look different…’ Staring up at her from between her breasts, he registered her frown. ‘If you had a twin, it would be the same for me.’

  ‘How?’ It should have been an easy question, but it gasped out of her lips as his fingers crept to the warmth between her legs, incessant fingers back on her swollen flesh which was sore and tender from his attention.

  ‘Have I hurt you?’

  ‘No.’

  Yes.

  Her mind wrestled for an answer. The tenderness was a small price to pay for the sensations she had experienced, so she diverted him with a question of her own. ‘How would you know it wasn’t me?’