by Amy Andrews
Felicity’s eyes fluttered closed. ‘Oh, God,’ she breathed, her hands on his shoulders. ‘I want you inside me too.’
And then he was kissing her mouth again as he pulled at her tank top, peeling it off, and she was rucking up his T-shirt and hauling it over his head then reaching for the snaps on his shorts as he reached for hers, pushing them down his legs, kicking out of her own, their kissing stop-start as they shimmied out of their clothes.
Then they were naked and breathless and falling on the bed together in a tangle of limbs and impatience, and he was rolling her on her back, kissing down her neck to her breasts, sucking each nipple in turn, making her cry out and arch her back and forget everything about the day except this moment.
Nothing mattered right now but how they could make each other’s bodies sing. Nothing mattered but him.
Her fingers tangled hard in his hair, holding him at her breasts, begging him for more. And he gave her more. More and more, his tongue taunting her until she saw stars. Until she was so damn wet and tingly and restless she was begging him to stop, begging him to finish it, to thrust himself inside her and take them both where they wanted to go.
Her nails dug into his back and she dragged his mouth off her nipple. ‘I want you inside me.’
He kissed her hard before mumbling, ‘Condom,’ then heading back to torture her nipples some more.
Condom. Right. Bedside drawer.
Desperately she reached for it, crying out and arching her back when he resumed what he’d been doing, only the other side this time, his hard tongue circling and circling and circling until her eyes were rolling back in her head and her nipple was slippery and elongated, then sucking it deep into his mouth, his teeth scraping against the tip.
Her hand found a loose foil packet and she snatched it up, tearing it open as she pushed on his shoulder. ‘Condom,’ she panted.
He lifted his head and Felicity almost whimpered at the relief, the cool air stiffening her wet nipples into tight, hard cones. He grabbed the condom from her and shifted slightly to his side, sheathing himself in one deft move. Then she was reaching for him, grasping his shoulders, pulling him over her, spreading her legs wide so he could settle deep, reaching for his erection, exulting in his guttural groan as she squeezed all his glorious length, guiding him to where she was slick and needy.
‘There,’ she gasped as he nudged, thick and hard against her, tormenting her with the promise of his girth. ‘Right there.’
‘Oh, yeah,’ he murmured, his voice a low growl. ‘Right there.’
And then he was sliding home and she was calling out his name, wrapping her legs around his waist, asking him for more, feeling every hot, hard glide, shivering and shaking with each thrust, tilting her pelvis to meet each one, digging her fingers into his buttocks, revelling in the tremble through his thighs and biceps and the harsh suck of his breath as the friction built and the tension mounted, his arms hard bands of muscle bracketing her shoulders.
It wasn’t long before the whole world started to unravel. A tiny ripple that started deep and low became two, then three. Then became stronger.
A contraction. Two. Three.
Then a shudder undulating along her pelvic floor.
Felicity gasped as the shudders escalated, increasing in intensity until she could barely stand it, her eyes flying open to find him watching her, their gazes locking in an intensely intimate moment.
The moment of mutual release.
‘Yes,’ he muttered, his brow crinkled in concentration, his biceps like granite in her peripheral vision, as his hips pumped faster and harder. ‘I can feel you. I can feel you.’
Felicity cried out, fighting the urge to shut her eyes as she came, showing him all that she was as she flew apart. He joined her in the maelstrom moments later, his eyes wide open too, gifting her every second of his orgasm as it slammed through his body, the wonder and intensity of it reflected in his gaze until they were churned out the other end, sweaty, spent and utterly exhausted.
* * *
It was dark in her room but the red luminous figures on Felicity’s bedside clock told her it was ten past one. She should be tired from the emotion of the day and the expended energy of the night. But she wasn’t.
Callum was in her bed and while that was something she was going to have to deal with—tomorrow—she was going to enjoy it for the night. Like she had on the train.
She was tracing patterns on his chest as he stroked lazy fingers up and down her back. ‘What do you see when you look at me?’
‘Fishing for compliments?’ Even rumbling through his chest wall straight into her ear, his voice didn’t lose any of its amusement.
She smiled, her finger circling one flat, brown nipple. ‘No. I’m being serious.’
His hand paused for a moment, missing a beat or two before continuing its steady pace. ‘Okay. I see an incredible woman, a great lover and amazing nurse. I see—’
‘No.’ Felicity pushed off his chest, propping her head on her hand as she looked down at him, stroking a finger along his chin, under his bottom lip. ‘I mean, what do you physically see? With your eye the way it is.’
He went very still. ‘Oh. Right.’
Her finger paused on his chin. Damn. Way to kill the mood, Flick. ‘I’m sorry. It’s okay. I shouldn’t have asked.’
Except lying here with him she’d realised she didn’t know anything about the nitty-gritty of his eyesight. Mostly because he’d seemed so closed off about it but it seemed uncaring not to enquire.
Sure, it was easy to forget when looking at him that he had any kind of sight deficit. His misshapen, slightly dilated pupil and the fact he couldn’t drive at night were the only indications. But it was hardly something he could forget. It wasn’t like it was out of sight.
It was his sight.
‘No. It’s fine,’ he assured her. ‘You just took me by surprise, that’s all. Nobody other than my specialists and the medical board have ever really asked.’
Felicity stroked her finger along his bottom lip. It was full and tempting. ‘Didn’t any of those women you shamelessly slept with after the accident ever ask?’
He smiled and she traced the curve of his mouth all the way to the corner and back again. ‘They seemed more interested in bagging the blind surgeon than the details of my injury,’ he said, his voice heavy with derision.
‘Well, I’m interested,’ she said, tapping his chin lightly.
‘In the details or...’ his hand slid onto her hip and lightly stroked ‘...bagging the blind dude?’
Felicity laughed, his tone light and more self-deprecating now. ‘Huh. Been there, done that. Three times already tonight.’
His hand swept to her butt, scattering goose-bumps down the backs of her thighs and arrowing heat right between her legs. ‘Fourth time’s a charm.’
‘Patience,’ she teased, dropping a quick kiss on his mouth. ‘Now, tell me how you see me.’
He sighed dramatically but kept up the drugging sweep of his hand from hip to buttocks and back again. ‘At the moment, in the dark, not much with the left eye, you’re kind of a dim blur.’
He was becoming a bit of a blur too as heat streaked to her pelvis. ‘What about during the day? In normal light?’
‘If I cover up my good eye, you’d be pretty blurred. The acuity in my left eye is shocking but my right eye compensates and if I’m wearing my glasses then the blurriness improves even further. But if you’re standing on my left I probably wouldn’t see you at all because my peripheral vision in that eye is pretty much nonexistent.’
The bitterness that had tinged his voice when he’d first told her about it was missing now. She wasn’t sure if that was significant or just the result of three really good orgasms.
God knew, if she was any mellower at the moment from those org
asms and the very distracting stroke of his hand, she’d be floating away like a dandelion puff.
‘They can’t operate to help in any way?’
‘They did what they could in the beginning. I’ve had quite a few surgical interventions, including laser work on my retina, but...frankly I don’t think any of the specialists thought I’d have any kind of worthwhile vision so they’re seeing it as a win.’
‘And they think it’s as good as it’ll get?’
‘It may improve marginally, in time but it’s taken over two years to get where it is and most of that progress was made in the first year.’
‘Are you still friends with the guy who bowled the ball?’
‘Sure.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s not his fault. It was a freak accident and I should have been wearing a helmet. I had one in my car but...’
Yeah. But...
Felicity was sure he’d done the should-haves and if-onlys over and over. It had been an expensive error in judgement and her heart went out to him. There was just something about this man that made her want to make it all better for him.
Enough bringing them down.
They had tonight and she was up for a little sexual healing.
‘So, to recap,’ she said, sliding her leg over and rolling up to straddle him, settling her slick heat over his semihardness, ‘what you’re saying is you see things right in front of you reasonably well in reasonable light, especially if you have glasses on.’
He chuckled, his hands moving to her hips. ‘Yes.’
‘So...’ she arched her back, lifting the hair off her nape and piling it high on her head, two-handed ‘...it’s not so good at the moment.’
‘I can see enough,’ he murmured, the heat from his gaze like an infra-red beam fanning over her breasts, prickling her nipples to tight, hard buds. ‘And I have a pretty good imagination.’
‘Would this help?’ she asked, letting her hair go, leaning forward at the hips, reaching for the switch that was looped through the wrought-iron lattice of her bedhead.
She flicked it on and sat back to admire the effect of a dozen tiny fairy lights, embedded in plastic hearts woven through the metal, glowing soft and pink.
It was kind of how she felt now. Her heart on a string, all happy and glowy inside her.
‘Oh, yes,’ he muttered, his gaze zeroing in with laserlike intensity, his hands sliding up her sides.
His singular focus was an instant turn-on. ‘Light not too harsh?’ she teased.
He shook his head as his fingers stroked the undersides of her breasts. ‘It’s perfect.’ He cupped them fully. ‘You’re perfect.’ He brushed his thumbs across her aching nipples. ‘So beautiful.’
Felicity moaned as his rapidly swelling erection pushed hard against the knot of tingling nerves between her legs and she rubbed herself against him for maximum effect.
‘God,’ he groaned, vaulting upright, curling an arm around her waist and hauling her close. Felicity arched her back, offering her nipple to his questing mouth. She buried her hand in his hair, her eyes fluttering closed as his hot, wet mouth closed around her and she let herself get lost in the pleasure.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
FELICITY WAS SITTING at the central island bench in her kitchen the next morning, reading the Sunday paper she had delivered to her door. A steaming-hot cup of coffee sat at her elbow as she tried to concentrate on some political scandal instead of the speech she had to give.
She’d heard the shower being turned on about fifteen minutes ago so it wouldn’t be long now.
She’d been awake for a couple of hours, just watching him sleep, admiring the play of early morning shadows across his face and body. He looked so damn sexy in her bed.
When he was asleep. When he was awake. When he was thrusting into her, silhouetted by a fuzzy pink glow.
They would be memories she would treasure for ever.
But it couldn’t be any more than another one-night stand. It would be too easy to spend the next five weeks in his arms and too hard to say goodbye. He wasn’t ready. There were issues he still had to work out. And she didn’t want to invest in someone who’d probably break her heart. It had taken her a long time to feel whole after Ned and she’d learned to be more guarded since then.
She just couldn’t be the girl from the train here in Vickers Hill. She wasn’t that reckless. Not in real life. Not with her reputation and not with her emotions.
‘Good morning.’
The gravelly male voice coming from behind her ruffled all the tiny hairs on Felicity’s nape. But there was wariness in his tone too. Was he feeling unsure after waking to an empty bed?
‘Morning,’ she said, not bothering to turn and acknowledge him, just slipping off her stool and heading for the percolator. ‘Want a coffee?’
‘Sure.’ His tone was all wariness now.
She picked up a mug and poured him one, steeling herself to face him.
‘Here you go,’ she said, turning, mug in hand and a smile on her face. He was standing near the bench in his clothes from yesterday, except for his bare feet.
His hair was damp and he smelled like her shampoo.
Coconut had never smelled so damn good.
She slid his coffee across the bench, keen to keep something solid between them. ‘Sit,’ she said, leaning across to shift the newspaper out of the way.
Felicity didn’t wait to see if he followed her command. She turned back to the percolator and poured herself another coffee. Her third for the morning. When she was done she made a beeline for the stool that was on her side of the bench and sat down, taking a sip of her drink.
He took one too and said, ‘I feel like I’m about to get a “Dear John” speech.’
She shot him a nervous smile. ‘Am I that obvious?’
He placed his mug on the countertop. ‘Just say what you have to say, Felicity.’
She nodded. The direct approach was good. Rip that sticking plaster off and get on with it. ‘Last night was...’
God, where did she even start with last night? The train had been good but last night had been better. It’d been emotional, not just sexual. A deeper connection born not just from what they’d shared yesterday but from three weeks of spending practically every day together.
And that scared the hell out of her.
‘It’s okay,’ he said, his lips curling in a derisive smile. ‘I think we can skip the compliments.’
‘Okay.’ She placed her mug down on the granite benchtop too. ‘Last night was inevitable. It’s been building for the last few weeks and after the train...well, I think we both know the train was never going to be enough when we’ve had to work together so closely.’
‘I think if the next words that come out of your mouth are that you regret it or that I should regret it or that it was wrong or dumb or any other ridiculous statement then you should stop right there.’
Felicity gave a half-smile at his pre-emptive statement. His mouth was set in a hard line, his green eyes steely. He was even sexy when he was cranky. ‘Nope.’ She shook her head. ‘No regrets.’
Never.
His mouth relaxed and his shoulders lost some of their tension. Sexy, sexy, sexy.
‘But this can’t become a regular thing,’ she continued. ‘I can’t keep having sex with you and fooling myself that it’s just some crazy interlude. Some mutual fun while you’re here...that it’ll all be okay. I’m just not built that way. I’m not the girl from the train. I was never really her. I’m just Flick from Vickers Hill.’
He didn’t say anything for long moments, just stared at her as if he was trying to figure her out. ‘Are you telling me...’ he placed his bent elbow on the bench and supported his chin in his palm ‘...you don’t even want to be friends?’
If only. Friends would make
everything so much easier but that line was somewhere behind her now. ‘I think I’m probably always going to want more than that from you.’
‘Like...friends with benefits?’
She shook her head sadly. ‘Like friends with emotions.’
Her admission sat him back, his arm dropping to the countertop. ‘I see.’
She wondered if he did. Really did. ‘You know what I thought last night when I turned those lights on? That that was me. That was my heart. Glowing all pink and beautiful inside my chest.’
He swallowed then, a light dawning in his eyes as the information slowly settled in. ‘Are you trying to tell me that you’re...?’
‘No. I’m not,’ she assured him. Quickly. Definitively. She couldn’t be. It had taken her almost a year to realise she’d loved Ned. It would be preposterous to be in love with Callum after a few weeks. ‘But...I am that kind of girl. Absence doesn’t make my heart grow fonder. Presence makes it grow fonder and we can’t keep doing this...’ she waved her finger back and forth between them ‘...without...consequences. I like you, Callum.’
He was scheduled to leave on Christmas Eve and she was already sad about that day five weeks from now.
‘I like you too.’
Felicity suppressed a snort. She didn’t need to hear some quick-fire, city-slicker patronising response. He knew exactly what she meant. She folded her arms. ‘A little too much.’
He dropped his gaze to his coffee as her point hit home and he fiddled with the handle. ‘So we just...what?’ he asked, glancing at her. ‘See each other at work and that’s it?’
‘Yep.’ Felicity nodded. ‘Just colleagues...just two professionals. That’s all.’
His gaze searched hers for what felt like an age, as if he was trying to assess just how serious she was. She didn’t blink. Not once. Even though her hands were shaking around her mug and her pulse whooshed like a raging river through her ears.
‘Okay. Sure. If that’s what you want.’
