by Lisa Eugene
“I need you, Chlo. I surrender…” The broken words erupted as a coarse whisper and it caused her stuttering heart to dissolve into hot molten heat in her chest. Tears misted her eyes just as his large hands grasped her hips and he plunged his cock root-deep into her in one mind-numbingly pleasurable stroke.
“Oh, Braaaaad!” Chloe shouted and convulsed, her lids drifting shut from the sharp bolts of pleasure scorching her passage.
“Open your eyes. Look at me!” he ordered harshly, his hips slapping hard against her, driving his shaft deep again and again.
He had to issue the command twice before she found the strength to obey, and when she did, her breath lost its momentum and stalled in her lungs. Brad’s eyes were dark and intense and as hypnotically compelling as the wondrous skies, skies that reflected and gathered the turbulence of her emotions and scattered them in a breeze. She found such peace and joy that she wanted to weep, weep with the fear they would fade like writing in the sky if she dared to reach for them. Instead, she tore her gaze away and focused on the lust. This was real, this was now, and this was ripping her apart because it felt so damn good! She hovered, trembling, on the brink of orgasm, her body humming with scintillating pleasure.
Brad cupped the globes of her butt and lifted her. He circled his hip, torturing her with agonizingly slow strokes that pulled all the way out, then he’d power back in, the material of his pants chaffing the inside of her thighs. Her hips bucked against him, eager for more.
He locked his heated gaze on hers and his lips firmed.
“Don’t move, Chlo.”
“What?” she let out a wispy breath.
“Don’t move.”
Air rippled from her lungs. He felt so amazing, she couldn’t keep her hips from swinging, from trying to encourage the rhythm she needed.
When his open palm landed hard on her bare buttocks she gasped with the shock of it, the sting racing through her body. She had no time to voice her shock because he drove impossibly deep and undiluted pleasure chased the pain, causing her to rock her hips and instinctively tighten her thighs.
“You don’t listen very well, do you? You seem to have a fondness for disobedience.”
She felt the sharp sting of his admonition again and this time she hollered a complaining yelp.
Brad’s face was shadowed, so tight, so strained and intense, and she knew he was holding back. His eyes were deep and dark, colored with lust and reflecting the charcoal of his suit. His palm rubbed slow circles on her burning skin and his long fingers kneaded her muscle, consoling her flesh. She breathed his name, and his lips tilted in a sultry grin, softening the intensity that crackled around him.
She felt totally under his control, a slave to his whims. Her wrists slid against the grip of the confining fabric, her hands still eager to hold him. But she had to admit that there was something deeply erotic about being taken like this. Even the sting of his hand had somehow set fire to her senses and heightened her desire. He slid his palms under her buttocks again and steadied her shivering hips, then leaned forward and enthusiastically jack-hammered into her.
Chloe screamed and swore, the words escaping her tongue to chase the white-hot jolts of ecstasy zipping through her body and clenching her muscles in savage climax.
“Yes, Chloe. Come for me, baby! Squeeze me, baby! Yes, like that, squeeze my cock. You’re so fucking tight! So beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful.”
Brad’s face was mapped with pleasure, his damp brows furrowed in stern concentration as he powered into her. He pulled her limp legs in front of him, resting her shaking calves against his chest. Chloe moaned, feeling wonderfully stuffed as he turned his head and kissed the ankles now very close to his face. He scraped his teeth along her instep and took a sharp nibble at her heel. The sensations knifed through her, fluttering her sex, and he groaned and tossed back his head. He looked so handsome. She couldn’t believe he was still wearing his suit, couldn’t believe he still looked like he’d just walked out of a stuffy board meeting.
He crawled up her body, bracing on his arms and leaning on her legs. She felt scrunched as her body folded over, but the position raised her hips, curved her spine, and allowed a new angle that had her eyes rolling to the back of her head and her vocal cords singing.
Brad hooked his arms under her knees and drove into her in measured strokes, his face now closer to hers, his impassioned gaze locked on hers.
“Can you feel how deep I am, Chlo? See how well we fit? I want you to crave this every second of every day. I love fucking you. You are mine, baby,” he whispered.
He ground his root hard against her, mashing into her clitoris, and she exhaled a string of expletives that had him smiling. His hips rolled slowly, then built to a cataclysmic speed that heralded a soul-shattering detonation. She turned her wrists and clung to the fabric like a life line. She panted and screamed as her second orgasm ripped through her trembling body, exploding pure joy in every cell of her being. Oh, God! Her eyes slid shut. She could die from this much pleasure. She could easily lose her mind and her soul and the very essence of herself to this man.
Brad was shouting in her ear, his lips against her damp skin, his hips driving hard, unrelenting, stretching her, filling her, claiming her.
“Fuuuuuccck! Fuck! Fuck! I’m coming, baby! Chloe! Yes! Fuck! I’m coming!”
Her eyes snapped open, her brain struggling through her sensual debris. She felt the rushing swell of his cock right before he pulled out and sat up quickly. He grabbed hold of his glistening shaft and pumped, his muscles taxing the fabric of his suit, and the tendons in his hand taut from his iron grip. His face was beautifully contorted in ecstasy with strained sculpted angles. His large frame jerked as he took aim and showered her abdomen and breast with his hot essence. Chloe gasped with each spray that landed, the erotic heat of it sending pinpricks of sensation jumping through her. She was still open to him, her thighs at his hips. She moaned long and deep as he, with one final stroke, emptied himself at her center. Pleasure purred up her spine, arching her back and rocking her hips.
Brad collapsed next to her and pulled her close, fastening her wet breasts and abdomen to his body. His heaving breaths were hot on her cheek, and she couldn’t help thinking how absolutely amazing he was and how he was ruining his perfectly tailored suit. He forked his fingers through his damp hair, gasping.
“Christ,” he mumbled, his lips against her ear. “I never think it’s gonna happen…”
Chloe captured her bottom lip, wondering if he had meant to say that aloud. She often contemplated his predictions about reaching orgasm and knew that’s what he’d referred to. Before she could talk herself out of it, she plucked her tongue from the roof of her dry mouth and asked softly,
“Why? Why do you always think that?”
Brad twisted his head and his gaze met hers, suddenly opaque. He smiled, trailed a finger down the bridge of her nose, and then his gaze shifted away. She didn’t think he’d answer her, but then his deep voice broke through the lazy tension.
“It only happens with you.”
She frowned, thinking she must have misunderstood him. He read her confusion and continued.
“The past few months, I’ve had some…issues.”
He sighed heavily and she regretted bringing it up. They were still blanketed in a wonderful sexual aura, and she didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable.
“I have a lot of demands, Chloe. A lot of responsibility. Sometimes it becomes…overwhelming. More so in the past few months. I think my problem is just a physical manifestation of my stress.”
She chewed on her lip, her frown deepening. He was so sexually robust that she found it hard to believe he’d have any issues. She could understand the pressures of a cardiac surgeon and having many lives in his hands and families depending on him. It was a job that allowed no room for error. She wondered, though, if his stress had anything to do with his parents. And here she was, adding more to his plate!
Guilt started to pour into her belly. He must have seen her expression because he locked their gazes and smiled.
“Listen, I don’t feel it with you. I enjoy being with you. No internal stress.” He chuckled at her incredulous expression. “It’s strange, I know, considering everything going on. But, you fix me. You release the tremendous pressure and make it tolerable. It…it’s like my lungs are starving and you’re my next deep breath.” Brad gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Oh, God! If Larry could hear me now!”
Chloe couldn’t get air around the lump of emotion that had blocked her throat. She blinked hard and tried not to give into the tears pressing her lids. Her feelings for Brad overwhelmed her, frightened her, and his confession was wondrously freeing.
Could it be possible that he had feelings for her? Repulsive Chloe Bennett?
The night at the club when they’d had sex in the alley, she’d wanted to be anyone else but Chloe Bennett. She’d been tired of being the selfless goodie-two shoes who always gave and never took, who always loved with it never returned.
Was it possible that Brad had real feelings for her? Did she dare hope? Could she trust again? Her heart squeezed out so much affection for him that it became a potent drug in her veins, an overdose of emotion that released the tears that wet her lashes and trickled down her cheeks. But her fear was a tangible thing.
What if he hurts me? What if he breaks my heart? What if he suddenly decides I’m not good enough? I can’t compete with those other women. I won’t.
Brad swore roughly and wiped away her tears. His lips pressed softly against her lids, then he brushed them lightly over her lips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get all sappy.” He shot her a lop-sided grin.
She inhaled a deeply. “I just have one question.”
“What’s that?”
“When do you untie me so I can get my hands all over you?”
His grin widened and he regarded her thoughtfully. “Mmmm, I was thinking we’d try that again with my clothes off this time. I kinda like you tied up, though.”
She pouted her bottom lip, and he leaned in close and suckled it, then he captured her mouth and they shared a leisurely kiss, his tongue slow and masterful. He groaned and pulled away with a visible shiver.
“Okay, but the only reason I’m releasing your hands is just so you can undress me. What do you think of that?”
“Amen,” she agreed with a smile.
Chloe slept better than she had in days, sheltered, safe, and marvelously content folded into Brad’s strong arms. After he’d freed her and she’d slowly undressed him, they’d made love again. This time with such deliberate tenderness that Chloe lost herself to the endless rapture. She clung to his wide, naked shoulders, sweaty and trembling, riding the waves of ecstasy time and time again, and marveling that this man could give her such a soul-deep fulfillment.
It was far into the night when she fell into a deep slumber, her cheek mashed against the solid muscle of his chest, his arms laced protectively around her, and his fingers doing a slow dance through her hair.
She felt guilty when, just a few hours later, Brad’s lips found hers and he tossed his long legs off the bed. It was time for him to go to work. He explained that he could move his OR case later, but thought it best to keep to his ordinary routine. He didn’t want to rouse any suspicions, especially with the heavy presence of the police at the hospital. The fact that she was staying with him had to remain a secret, of course. Chloe agreed. The last thing she wanted was for Brad to end up in jail for abetting her.
He slipped into the shower and she was left in a tangle of sheets. She was staring at the floor, deep in thought, when her gaze landed on her overturned backpack. It’d been knocked off the bed during their mischief last night. The contents had spilled and her notebook, clothes and neglected bills had scattered all over his expensive rug. A plain white envelope with her name drew her attention and she sat up in bed, frowning. She couldn’t remember ever seeing it. Snatching it from the carpet, she opened it, her chest pounding when she unfolded the page and read the boldly scribbled note.
I NEED TO TALK TO YOU. MEET ME AT SILO ON TUESDAY NIGHT. 6PM. BACK ALLEY. COME ALONE. NIGEL
Chloe gasped, her palm flying to her mouth. She must have been carrying this note around for more than a week! It was mixed in with her mail. She’d stuffed the mail and bills at the bottom of her bag the day she’d planned to go stay with her mother, the day the police had shown up at her apartment—the day she’d seen Nigel outside her building! And that day had been almost two weeks ago. He must have put the note in her mailbox. Shit. He’d wanted to meet the following Tuesday, but by then she’d already been on the run.
Chloe wanted to weep. She’d missed her opportunity. She’d had her friends out looking for him and, ironically, he’d come to her. But he’d seen her get taken away in a police car. Perhaps he’d realize that his note might be missed with all her turmoil. Today was Tuesday. A week after she’d been expected to meet him. She had to go. She had to take a chance that he’d show tonight…and she had to do it alone.
Just then the bathroom door opened and she heard Brad coming up behind her. She quickly stuffed the envelope under her pillow and turned to face him, trying to calm her excited heart. She had a split second of suspended breathing when she saw him, his image crashing into her anxiety and guilt. He had a towel draped around his narrow hips and his chest was bare. Her fingers itched to stroll over his broad, sculpted shoulders, defined pecs, and the hills and grooves of his tight abdominal muscles. He was such a beautiful man!
She reflexively started to wonder what he was doing with her, to travel down a path of self-deprecation, then her gaze landed on his dazzling smile. The way he looked at her…his eyes absorbed her as if she was a precious jewel that awed and delighted him. No one had ever looked at her like that, as if the answers to all the questions in the universe were held in the depths of her eyes.
She blushed as he got closer, then moaned long and low when his lips brushed softly against hers. His fingers combed through her thick hair, shaking out the tangles as he looked down at her. He was so close she could smell his clean scent and she inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the intoxicating aroma of Brad.
“Wish I could stay, Chlo. Unfortunately I have a late night of patients. Go back to sleep.” He grinned. “You didn’t get much.”
Guilt made itself comfortable in her chest and she could do nothing but nod. She hated keeping Nigel’s note from him, but knew if she told him, he’d remind her of all the reasons she shouldn’t go. They’d get into a big fight. He’d probably tie her to the bed for good this time. She knew it could be a trap from Omega, but she had to go. Nigel could be the key to exonerating her. Maybe Brad wouldn’t have to negotiate with Mr. Fusso. He could keep all of his ownership in the company.
For some reason, her gut said Nigel meant her no harm. She settled back in bed, Brad sliding the sheets up to her neck. He bent and skated his lips across forehead.
“Stay put, Chloe. Try not to worry. This will all work out. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
Brad walked out of his OR case filled with adrenaline, as always. He wished he was done for the day and could go home to Chloe. He really liked the sound of that.
Before his case he’d called Mr. Accardo, pretending to be irate over the police’s ineptitude in locating Chloe, and insisted on an update on the case. It seemed they had not yet identified what was in the syringe found in Chloe’s apartment. He was informed that the substance had to be sent to a special lab for testing. Brad had latched on to this information with some degree of hope. At least it wasn’t more potassium.
He understood Chloe’s fear of being arrested, but the danger she faced was real and frightening. She was unreasonably autonomous and he knew that if he pushed her about turning herself in, she’d just take off again. At least now she was under his roof, where he knew she was safe and he could keep an eye on her. His thoughts rolled back to last night and the passion t
hey’d shared. Fucking. Amazing. Brad shook his head. He felt so much for Chloe that his heart ached. The way she made him feel was uncanny. His body responded to hers like no other, and last night had been a close call…a very close call.
He continued up the hall, combing his fingers through his hair. He had not wanted to pull out—almost didn’t. It had taken a Herculean effort to leave the warm magic of her body.
He didn’t know why, but on an elemental level he relished the thought of coming inside her, making a family with her. Never in his life had he ever felt those urges. But he’d never do that to her. Not without her consent. She had enough to deal with. The withdrawal method made for poor birth control, and at some point they’d have to discuss a more reliable solution. Something long term. More words he thought he’d never use with a woman.
He sighed. Their priority was finding proof of her innocence, and if Mr. Fusso was the type of man he was known to be, he’d accept Brad’s offer. But Brad wasn’t as confident as he’d pretended about the offer. Most likely Mr. Fusso would ask for more, but whatever it was, it would be worth getting Chloe’s charges dropped.
The first thing Brad noticed when he walked into his medical suite was the anxious look of alarm on Bea’s face. Her brown eyes were large, and she constantly ran a hand over her hair. It took a lot for Bea to get frazzled. He frowned, not able to read the signals on her face, but as he walked farther into the office and approached, the reason for her disquiet came into view.
Hovering not far from her desk was a tall, gangly gentleman in a wrinkled, ill-fitting jacket. He had a day’s growth of patchy stubble on his bony jaw, and his thin hair was combed back on his scalp, under the influence of some oily substance. Upon seeing him, the gentleman approached with a wan smile and held up a badge.
Shit.
“Dr. Markson, correct?” Brad nodded calmly. “I’m Detective Sullivan. May I have a word, please?”
