Bad for Her

by Christi Barth

  Her only hope was to shut it down now. Before Lucien developed it into a well-rehearsed monologue that popped out every time he lifted a beer bottle to his lips. Mollie shook her head and winced. Maybe too dramatically, but you had to fight fire with fire. “Nope. All I hear is rusty, filthy lawn mower blade. Work on the story, dude. Trust me.”

  The paper on the exam table rustled as he shifted to grip the edge of it with both hands. Eagerness brightened his blue eyes. Eyes that Mollie couldn’t help noticing weren’t quite as blue as Rafe’s . . . “You tell me a story instead. Tell me what happened with your down and dirty mechanic. Did he tune you up? Lube you up? Rotate your—nah, that’s no good.” Laughter doubled him over as he continued. “Lemme have another shot at it.”

  Mollie whisked the drape off his leg and dropped it into the trash. This was her workplace. She didn’t show up at his office and ask if he’d . . . um . . . putted through with his latest girl of the hour. “I’m not giving you any more time to come up with disgusting metaphors for sex with a mechanic.”

  “But it’s so much more fun now. When you were a resident and never left the hospital, you only gave me doctors to use in sexy metaphors. Rattling your bones and suturing your sex drive never really hit the nail on the head.”

  “No. They absolutely did not.” But the ridiculous conversation relaxed her. It made her happy as all get-out to be home. She’d missed Lucien a ton. Getting video chatted from club bathrooms when he needed dating advice wasn’t the same as actually being here with him.

  “Dr. Vickers?” Sakiko poked her head and half of her purple scrub top covered with teddy bears through the doorway. “I’ve got a child—Olivia Sebor—in for her immunizations who’s refusing to leave the waiting room. She’s too scared. And she’s screaming.”

  “Yikes. I can’t have that going down on my watch. She’ll freak out the other patients.” It certainly wasn’t the first time, though. Mollie knew exactly what to do. She didn’t want anyone, no matter what their age, to be scared of anything doctor related. Hospitals and medical staff should be seen as reassuring, as a place full of people who fixed things. People who made the pain go away. “Grab two hypos, the vaccine, and a Tdap. We’ll be right out.”

  As the door closed behind the nurse, Lucien asked, “We? Do I get to wear a white coat and a stethoscope and act all medicinal?”

  “You need a shot.”

  Lucien turned sheet white. Then he tried to scoot back, out of her reach, but he only succeeded in bonking his head on the wall. “No, I don’t. I finished all my vaccines years ago. And you promised that you’d sneak my flu shot in one night when I was good and plastered so I wouldn’t feel it.”

  “No flu shot until October. Geez, you’re such a baby.” Rafe would probably handle a shot without so much as blinking. If she could even get the needle into his rock-hard biceps. “But the lawn mower blade doesn’t exactly cut in sterile conditions. You need your tetanus updated. And you’re going to be a very, very brave model of good behavior for this frightened child.”

  “I hate shots.”

  Since her hand was banded around his wrist and she’d still barely managed to tug him toward the door, that much was obvious. “Help me and I’ll dish on what went down with my mechanic.”

  “That’s a sham of a deal. I’m your best friend. You were going to tell me anyway.”

  “Yes, but I promise to use dirty words instead of clinical ones.”

  “Sold.” At least, that’s what Lucien said. But it still took considerable yanking on Mollie’s part to get him down the hallway and into the waiting room.

  Its green-and-blue-striped walls were soothing. Just not to the six-year-old screaming her head off. The adults in the room looked annoyed and the one other child looked petrified. Great. Mollie rushed over, dragging Lucien in lockstep with her.

  “Olivia, I’m so glad you came in today. I need your help.” Mollie dropped to a crouch. Olivia stopped screaming, but sniffled and hiccupped and clearly was ready to burst into more tears.

  Luckily, her mom played along. “Olivia’s only six. Isn’t she too little to help a doctor?”

  “Nope. She’s perfect.” A sharp yank on Lucien’s wrist dropped him to his knees beside her. “This man cut himself today. By being careless.” Yes, it was petty to get in a poke at him. And totally worth it. “He needs a tetanus shot, but he’s too scared. I told him that I have a six-year-old patient who can show him how easy it is to be brave. He didn’t believe me.”

  “Boys are stupid.” White teeth flashed as a surprisingly knowing smile widened her plump brown cheeks.

  “They can be. But they can also learn pretty fast. Especially from a really smart, brave girl. Do you think you could show Mr. Dumont how to do it?”

  Olivia shoved up the cap sleeve to her pink shirt. Then she shook her arm wordlessly at Lucien until he did the same to his sky-blue polo. Luckily, Sakiko was right there, with both hypos. Mollie left Lucien to the perfectly capable sticking capabilities of the nurse.

  “By the time you name five animals, we’ll be done. Why don’t you take turns? Olivia can start.”

  Full of self-importance, Olivia shouted out “Camel!”

  “Ostrich,” Lucien responded, gritting his teeth. And then he turned it into a crossed-eyed grimace to make Olivia laugh. Mollie knew he’d come through. Who could resist a girl with seven pink bows twisted into her curls and a missing front tooth?

  “El-lelephant.” She stumbled over the word as the needle went in, but kept going. Mollie couldn’t be prouder. The girl had grit.

  “Octopus.”

  “That’s a fish, silly.” Olivia kicked her legs and squealed at besting the fully grown man. “Not an animal.”

  “Guess you showed him how to be brave and taught him a lesson. I may have to ask you for help the next time you come in, too.” Mollie slapped on the bandage after showing Olivia the SpongeBob characters printed on it. “Would you be my official special helper?”

  “Yes, Dr. Vickers.” The little girl flung her arms around Mollie’s neck in a fast hug.

  Lucien then shook her hand with utter solemnity. “Thanks, Olivia. I’m not scared of shots anymore.”

  “Me, neither.”

  “Me, neither,” a deep voice echoed.

  Mollie spun around on one heel and almost fell out of her crouch. Because it was the last voice she expected to hear at nine on a Saturday morning. She had to crane her neck back to look up at Rafe’s stubbled jaw. It went well with the faded gray tee that hugged every single ripple of lean muscle in his washboard abs. Which is where she’d keep her gaze at or above. No matter what. Since her eyes were directly level with a bulge in his jeans she would not so much as notice while in close proximity to a girl wearing light-up sneakers.

  “Rafe?” Mollie cleared her throat. Because his name had come out in an excited squeak. Very undignified and un-doctor-like. “Did you have an appointment?”

  “It’s a walk-in clinic, right? I just walk in when I need medical attention?”

  “Technically, yes.”

  “Rafe, huh?” Lucien started to rise with a very inquisitive gleam in his eye. Mollie leaned—hard—on his shoulder as she got up to keep him from following. Or asking anything else.

  “Sakiko, would you discharge both Mr. Dumont and Olivia?” She dug a sheet of stickers out of the pocket of her lab coat and folded it into Olivia’s damp palm. “I’m going to take Mr. Maguire on back.”

  Again, she found herself dragging a man by the wrist double-time down the long, eau-de-antiseptic-scented hallway of the clinic. “Are you hurt? Sick?”

  “It’s more that I’ve got a burning question. And my last doctor chewed me out good when I googled for an answer instead of going in to the office.”

  “Rightly so.” Mollie tried to lead him into an exam room. Instead, Rafe shifted his hand so that he now led her. And he pulled her right through the connecting door at the end of the hallway that joined the clinic wing with the actual hospita
l. “Uh, where are we going?”

  “I did a little recon.” He pulled her into the laundry room. The hospital was so small that although they sent a big load out twice a week, they had their own laundry room as well. Mollie liked it because nothing soothed an achy, irritable patient in the middle of the night like a blanket right out of the dryer. Then Rafe shoved a full laundry hamper against the door.

  “Rafe, what’s going on?”

  He turned, locking the full intensity of his stare onto her. Enough so that her pulse picked up and her panties dampened beneath its blue heat. “You said you’d be open to a friends-with-benefits arrangement. Once you decided if we could actually be friends.”

  “Right.” And their dinner had worked. She’d had a great time. From the way Rafe laughed and flirted and, frankly, eye-fucked her, so had he.

  “Well, I don’t want to enter into this arrangement until I’m sure the benefits will be good. For both of us.” He shoved up his long sleeves, exposing forearms dusted with dark black hair. Forearms that literally made her mouth water. And Rafe wasn’t even touching her. “That’s the question I need answered.”

  Mollie backed up until her heels hit the dryer. Because she suddenly didn’t have the space to catch a full breath. His broad shoulders took up so much room. The lust emanating off of him in waves took up even more, sucking up all the oxygen in the tiny space.

  “You’re kidding. Right now? I have a waiting room full of patients. Hacking coughs to medicate, vaccinations to give, and rheumatoid arthritis liver enzyme levels to review.” And that was only the next hour of her packed schedule.

  Fists braced on the dryer at her hips caged Mollie in. Not that it was necessary. Not like she was going anywhere. Not with her knees this wobbly and her arousal already spiking just from Rafe’s nearness. Not that she could possibly ignore the forbidden excitement of his proposition.

  It barely took a nudge from his heavy black boots to spread her legs. To create room between her thighs for Rafe to step closer. To nestle the bulge in his jeans against her abdomen. “If I was actually here as a patient, how long would you spend with me?”

  “Ten minutes.”

  “That’s all I’ll need.” Rafe’s voice dropped to a near whisper right in her ear. The whorls of his breath raced chills down her spine. “You think I can’t get you in the mood fast enough?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Let’s be clear—when we have sex, it’ll take a while. Because I plan to take my time. Drawing a connecting line with my tongue between each of your freckles. Giving you ample opportunity to decide if you prefer clockwise or counterclockwise circles on your nipples. Discovering what pushes you over the line from panting to moaning. It’ll be a whole-night deal. One that’ll probably pick up again before the sun breaches the horizon.” He pushed back the starched lapels of her lab coat.

  “Is that so?” Mollie never knew she liked dirty talk. Now she knew. For sure. Or, at least, she knew that when Rafe did it, every nerve in her body came to attention and waved, frantically, in a silent plea for him to continue. Count that as her self-actualization for the day.

  Rafe didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His mouth was full, clamped on to her breast over her scrub top. Using only his teeth, he bit down on her nipple just hard enough to make her toes tighten. At the same time, he used his hand to squeeze the other breast. The combination of the hard pinch and the firm but soft pressure rolled her eyes back in her head. Fully clothed goodness. Oh-so-goodness.

  Ten minutes. Ten little minutes. Technically, just long enough to run to the bathroom, grab another jelly donut, and gulp down a coffee. Not an exorbitant or irresponsible amount of time at all. Plus, she’d finished with Olivia in record time. That ought to give her at least seven extra minutes? To balance being a good doctor against resolving too many months of sexual frustration?

  Damn it, she’d rationalize—or not—later. Because right now, Rafe was untying the knot holding her pants up.

  “I like the way you move against me. I’ll like it even more when we’re naked.”

  “Agreed.” Although Mollie hadn’t even noticed the undulation of her hips until Rafe pointed it out. The motion had been an unconscious reflex. Cause and effect from his burning, knowing touch.

  He curved his fingers into a claw shape and lightly raked them down her satin panties. This time, Mollie was very conscious of rocking her hips forward to meet him. To get more pressure to relieve the skyrocketing ache between her legs.

  Instead, Rafe scraped lightly again. Which was teasing and wonderful and utterly insufficient. Mollie threaded her fingers through his thick hair, trying to pull him closer. All it did was pull a chuckle out of him. “Trust me, babe. I’ll get you there.”

  “Oh, I do. I most definitely do.” She might not know . . . well, much of anything about the dark-haired man with his hands down her pants. But Mollie did, one hundred percent trust that Rafe knew his way around a woman’s body. That he knew it as libidinously as she knew it anatomically.

  His mouth moved up to hers. When his tongue invaded with a swift plunge, so did his finger. It slipped beneath the elastic gather and went right inside her wetness. Right where she craved him.

  Every stroke of his finger mimicked that of his tongue. At every pause, the fingers of his other hand tightened to just the right side of firmness on her nipple. Through her bra. Since technically, Mollie was still fully clothed. Yet, she already hovered on the edge of orgasm.

  Mollie went up on tiptoe, trying to give him better access. Rafe boosted her with just one muscular arm to teeter on the edge of the dryer. And then rewarded her by adding a second finger.

  Breath coming as fast as if she’d just run a mile down the beach, Mollie offered, “Let me do something for you. I want to touch you, too.”

  He wrenched his mouth away. “Next time. Your test for me was dinner. This one’s mine.”

  “I’ve always excelled at tests.” Then she whimpered with desire. This was all so good. Yet it was all sooo not enough.

  “You’re already passing with flying colors, Doc.” A third finger pressed tightly against the other two. It curved, pressing against the fleshy spot where so many nerves clustered. At her moan, Rafe rocked the heel of his palm firmly against her clitoris.

  Once.

  Twice.

  The third time, Mollie simply broke apart into pulsing bliss.

  Her head dropped to his shoulder as she waited for her heartbeat to slow and the white spots to stop dancing behind her closed lids. Beating around the bush wouldn’t serve either of them. So she gulped in enough air to say, “That was fantastic. Beyond fantastic, actually. Thank you.”

  Rafe scooted her back on the dryer until she was stable. He dropped a kiss on her forehead, her nose, and then a more lingering one on her lips as her head tilted upright. Once her eyes fluttered open, he brought his fingers to his mouth. The fingers that had been inside of her. Licked them, one by one. “Thank you, Doc.”

  Omigod. The raw sensuality of this man just undid her.

  Then he carefully retied her scrub pants with a perfect bow. Which undid her even more.

  “So . . . we’re going to do this?” she asked.

  Rafe lifted her back onto her feet. Straightened her lapels. Then put his hand on the back of Mollie’s neck while he crushed his mouth to hers for another few seconds.

  With a flourish, he opened the door and waved her into the hallway. “We’ve already started.”

  Unable to resist, Mollie asked, “Was it better than going on the internet to answer your question?”

  “The entire world wide web’s got nothing on you.” Rafe dipped into her pocket to steal a Tootsie Pop as they strolled down the hallway. “Plus, I get a double dose of sweetness. Talk about a great start to the day.”

  “Better than a chocolate muffin with honey?”

  “Hmmm. You’re giving me a good idea. Honey. Forget the muffin.” He walked two fingers down the center of her body. “I’m going
to drizzle it down your belly and—”

  Mollie whacked the back of her hand against his flat stomach, practically bouncing off of its tautness. “Shhh. We’re not behind closed doors anymore. Go on. Shoo. Before anyone gets suspicious.”

  “But I think I’ve got a fever now.” He gently butted his forehead against hers.

  She’d thought his sexy side was enough. But playful Rafe was too many kinds of adorable not to appreciate as well. “There’s an entire ocean out there. Go cool off in it.”

  “Hmmm. The ocean. You’re chock-full of good ideas this morning. How do you feel about skinny dipping?”

  Like she’d be willing to try any dangerous and decadent thing Rafe Maguire suggested.

  Twice.

  Chapter 7

  The Gorse, 7:00 p.m.

  Mood in the sad-ass excuse for a bar—frustrated

  Rafe lifted his frosted beer mug. “To Saturday night.”

  Then he waited. Because neither Flynn nor Kellan lifted their mugs. They just stared at him. Flynn, with his jaw practically wired shut, he’d clamped down so hard. Kellan with his typical-for-the-last-six-months sneer curling his lip.

  “Come on,” Rafe urged. Purposely, he kept it light. Like he was trying to talk them into ordering the four-meat stuffed deep dish pizza at Giordano’s, instead of the pansy-ass classic with green peppers. Who needed to ruin good ‘za with freaking vegetables? “Don’t leave a brother hanging.”

  Kellan’s lip curled down even farther. “Not gonna clink your glass. Not for a fake toast.”

  Damn it. Rafe knew Kellan was pissing all over this small-town, quiet-as-a-Monday excuse for a bar. But if he played dumb—and kept at it—maybe he could still get them to lift their damn beers. “Uh, check out your calendar app. It’s Saturday. The sun has set. We’re good to toast.”

  “No way. This is a crappy excuse for a Saturday night.” Kellan leaned back. Kicked the table leg enough to make it jump in the process and crossed his arms over his green plaid-covered chest.