by Joan Hohl
While she, like a romantic fool, loved him with everything inside her being.
Desperately needing to release the tears gathering in her eyes in a long self-pity party of weeping, Becca pushed gently against his chest.
Seth was frowning when he lifted his head to gaze at her in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“I did tell you not tonight, Seth,” she said, wincing at the painful tug of her lower back and inner thigh muscles as she rose from the sofa. “Now things are getting too intense. Not only do I still ache all over, now my head is beginning to pound.”
“Let me get you some Tylenol or something stronger,” he said, rising to stand next to her, and sliding his arm around her waist. “You are a little pale.”
“Tylenol will be fine, thank you.” Unable to resist, she rested her now throbbing head on his shoulder. “I don’t like to take stronger pain medication. I’m just tired. I’ll be okay after a good night’s sleep.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” he muttered. It was only then she felt his finger on her wrist. “Your pulse rate is rapid. Looks like you’ve managed to overdo it once again.”
“No, the rapid pulse is your fault,” she admitted, managing a tiny smile. “That’s the effect your kisses have on me.”
He smiled. “That’s a good thing.” He immediately grew sober again. “I’m going to get my stethoscope.” He started to turn away.
“No,” she said, catching him by the arm. “It’s not necessary.” She frowned. “You brought your stethoscope with you on vacation?”
“Habit.” He grinned.
“Uh-huh.” Becca sighed, knowing full well he had come for the express reason to check on her. That also would have been a good thing, if he hadn’t bluntly told her he wanted her to get well because he needed her in the operating room.
She sighed again. While the tears in her eyes were now gone, she still felt the urge to cry. “I think I’ll forget reading tonight and go on to bed.”
“Maybe that’s best,” he agreed, peering at her in his patient probing way. “You go ahead, I’ll get the Tylenol and a glass of water.”
Seth sat sprawled on the sofa, staring blindly at the TV screen. He didn’t see the game in play, or hear the noise of the crowd of football fans or the chatter of the commentators.
The fire in his body had finally calmed down. The concern for Becca remained, worrying him. He didn’t understand. She had seemed fine last night in bed, so sweetly responsive, ready…no, eager to share her body with him. Shivering, he grew warm remembering the honey of her mouth, the tight peaks of her breasts, the satin softness of her skin, her smooth thighs curled tightly around his waist.
Seth heaved a long sigh. He wanted to be lying next to her right now, not for the sex, although that would be wonderful, too. Most of all, he wanted to hold her close to him, make her completely well, keep her warm and safe, protect her for the rest of his life.
But Becca had made it obvious, many times, if not by words but attitude, that she was impervious to him and, apparently, any man. She was and had always been cool, calm and remote.
Except last night.
Last night. Closing his eyes, Seth rested his head on the back of the sofa, reliving every minute of the night before, every kiss, every touch, every cry of release and heady satisfaction.
He had never experienced anything even close to the euphoria he had shared with Becca.
She had given him this week. One week of being together day and night. On the spot, Seth vowed to make it the best week of his, and hopefully Becca’s, life.
Her head throbbing, Becca lay across the bed fully dressed, but did not immediately fall asleep, as she had hoped she would. Slowly, the Tylenol eased the pain in her head, but it didn’t induce sleepiness. Her mind was restless, spinning from one thought to the next, always coming back to the most important of all her jumbled mental meanderings.
She wanted Seth so very badly…body, heart and soul. Having been with him, in the most physical, intimate ways a woman can be with a man, she felt bereft without him next to her, holding her, loving her.
Loving her.
A sob rose in Becca’s throat. She swallowed hard, attempting to force it back. Instead, it broke from her lips. She buried her face in her pillow to muffle the painful sound.
Until recently, Becca rarely allowed herself the indulgence of tears. In her teens, she had concluded giving way to tears only ever got two results—puffy eyes and a pale, blotchy face. Who needed that?
She had cried with Shakana before leaving Africa, but that was because she was ill and weak. Now, Becca was no longer ill or weak, at least physically. Emotionally, she was a basket case.
And so she cried, sobbing into the pillow until there were no more tears left inside her. She felt empty and she found peace in the haven of deep sleep.
Hours later, Becca woke, feeling washed out and used up and cold. Her eyelids felt heavy and odd. She hadn’t closed the drapes and the light from a nearly full moon filled the room. She could see clearly. What she saw confused her for a moment.
She was fully dressed lying on top of the covers. Becca frowned. What was she doing in bed in her clothes? She moved her head on the pillow, grimacing at the wet touching her cheek. Why was the pillow…Oh. Dawn broke, not beyond the window but inside her now fully awake mind.
She had soaked the pillow with her useless tears. She no longer wondered why her eyes felt funny. Sighing, she dragged her body from the bed, made her way to the bathroom and flipped on the light.
The image that stared back at her from the mirror was not encouraging. Her eyes were red-rimmed, the lids swollen. Her complexion looked like it had developed a bad rash while she slept.
“This is what you get for allowing yourself to become involved with a man who wants nothing from you but casual sex, even if he is the most skilled and exciting lover and otherwise wonderful man you have ever met.”
Somehow, berating herself aloud had little effect on the ravaged image before her. Shaking her head in despair of the pitiful-looking creature in the mirror, Becca turned the faucet on until the water running from it felt almost icy.
Soaking a washcloth, she held it against her face, applying pressure to her eyes. She repeated the process several times, until her face felt numb with cold. After patting her face dry, she glanced into the mirror once more. She was red as a beet, but the swelling in her eyelids was down.
Knowing the cold-induced color would fade, Becca returned to the bedroom and switched on the bedside lamp. The digital number on the clock read 4:11 a.m.
Becca was wide-awake, shivering with the cold, and suddenly hungry. First things first, she thought. Pulling off her clothes, goose bumps rising on her skin from the chill air, she slipped on an equally chilled silky nightgown. Grateful to Rachael for packing her ankle-length velour robe, she shrugged into its warmth and tied the belt snugly around her waist.
Now…food, she thought, sliding her cold feet into fuzzy, flat mule slippers. Before leaving the room, Becca went to the window to place her hand against the pane. Uh, yep, the night had turned very cold. Why she was surprised, she didn’t know. It was September, and hard as it was to believe, two months had passed since she had returned to the States from Africa.
Time flies when you’re having fun, she mused, grimacing as she left the room. And even if you weren’t having fun.
Becca stopped in her tracks as she entered the living room. Seth was lying half on and half off the sofa, as if he had fallen asleep sitting up and slid down flat with his legs hanging over the edge. He appeared sound asleep. Becca could see he was now wearing pajama pants and a well-worn University of Pennsylvania sweatshirt. His feet were bare.
Realizing he was probably cold, Becca quietly walked to the sofa and carefully lifted his long legs onto the sofa. Taking the faux fur throw from the back of the sofa, she covered him, tucking the throw around his cold feet. Seth didn’t wake up. He grunted and snuggled into the throw. Smiling, she backed aw
ay, turned and walked to the kitchen.
Becca was sitting at the kitchen table, chewing on a piece of toast and cradling a hot cup of tea in her hands, when Seth strolled into the room, the throw draped over his shoulders like a cape.
She raised her eyebrows. “Did I wake you when I covered you?”
He shook his head and smiled. “No, the smell of the bread toasting woke me. Smells good.”
“Help yourself,” she invited. “The bread’s on the countertop, and bring a cup if you want some tea. I made a full pot.” A flick of her hand indicated the fat china pot set close to her on the table.
“Thanks, I think I will.”
Becca continued to eat her toast as she watched him make his own. She was finishing the last bite when he seated himself opposite her, pulling the throw around him like a robe.
“Turned cold during the night,” he said, biting into a piece of toast.
“Yes,” she agreed. “I guess Indian summer is over. I’ll have to turn on the heat tomorrow…later today,” she said, correcting herself.
“Hmm.” Seth nodded, eyeing the teapot. “That tea smells good, too.”
Unwilling to play either employee or hostess, she refilled her cup, then slid the pot to him so he could pour his own tea.
“Thanks,” he drawled, taking another big bite of the bread. “Couldn’t you sleep?”
“I did sleep,” she said, raising the cup to sip the hot brew. “I fell asleep on top of the covers. The chilly air, along with a pang of hunger, woke me.”
“Oh.” Seth continued to eat.
Becca concentrated on her tea, unable to think of another thing to add to such scintillating conversation.
Finishing off the last of his toast, Seth concentrated on his own tea…for a few moments. “You look tired, Becca,” he said, sounding more the lover than the doctor.
A tingle attacking her spine, Becca lowered her eyes, murmuring simply, “I am tired.”
“Come to bed with me, Becca.” His voice was low, seductive, so very tempting.
The tingle in her spine flared into a full-fledged sizzle. She raised her eyes to stare into the depths of molten amber. “I…” She hesitated.
“Please.” An imploring note added inducement to his passion-roughened voice.
“Seth, I—”
“I promise I’ll be gentle, careful of your sore, aching muscles.”
She paused, sighed and gave in to the hunger clawing at her body. “Yes.”
Seth stood, pushing the chair back, and started toward her, his arms reaching for her.
“Seth, wait.” Becca help up a hand. “I’ve got to clear away our dishes.”
He rolled his eyes, sighed in exasperation. “Becca, the dishes can wait,” he said, plucking her plate from her hands before taking her in his arms. “I’m not so certain I can.”
Becca didn’t struggle.
He swept her up into his arms, and started for her bedroom. The throw fluttered to the floor unnoticed.
Curling her arms around his neck, Becca rested her head against his shoulder, inhaling the spicy scent of his cologne and the even spicier natural scent of Seth beneath.
Nine
S eth carried Becca into her bedroom. A light nudge of his hip shut the door after them.
Setting her on her feet, he opened the belt on her robe. It slid silently down to the floor. Stepping back, he ran a head-to-toe look over her. A smile touched his lips. “Cute slippers.”
Becca smiled back. “They’re warm and comfortable.” Her smile grew. “And, yes, cute.”
Seth ran another glace the length of her. “The slippers are cute,” he repeated, his eyes heating as his smile faded. “The nightgown is lovely…but I prefer you in your glorious natural state.”
“Seth…” His name was all Becca could get past her suddenly dry-as-dust throat. Her pulse jumped when he grasped the edges of his sweatshirt and pulled it up and over his head. He stood there, naked except for the cotton pajama pants riding low on his slim hips.
Lifting her eyes to his, Becca held his gaze as she drew the nightgown straps over her shoulders, allowing the gown to slide down her body to pool around her feet.
Once more Seth ran a slow look over her body.
Becca stepped out of the slippers and into his arms. A tremor skipped through her at the feel of his hands outlining her form.
“You’re still too thin,” he murmured close to her ear. “I can feel your hip bones jutting out.”
Becca sent her own hands exploring. “You’re still thin yourself, Doctor,” she whispered. “Your hip bones jut out as far as mine.”
She could feel his smile as he glided his lips from her ear to the corner of her mouth. “Your skin is silky again,” he said, laughter in his tone. He brushed his mouth over hers. “Your lips are sweet.”
Becca speared her fingers through the thick strands of his hair. “It’s the jam I had on my toast.”
He laughed aloud. “Ah, Becca, never without a comeback.” He taste-tested her lips again. “Nope, it’s not the jam. It’s the essence of you.”
She gave a light tug on his hair. “Are you going to kiss me for real, or are you planning to put me back to sleep?”
“You talked me into it.” Lifting his hands, he captured her face and took command of her lips. His tongue claimed the inside of her mouth.
Heat seared Becca, leaving her weak, needy. She clung to Seth, arching into him, thrilling to the hard pressure of his erection against her belly.
“Oh, I need you.” Grabbing a corner of the rumpled covers, he tossed them all the way down to the bottom of the bed. Then, he swept her down to lie gently on the mattress. “I need you now.”
“Yes…please.”
Standing by the bed in a pool of moonlight, Seth pulled the string of his pajama bottoms. They slid over his hips and down his long muscular legs. The sight of him, in full arousal, stole her breath. Stepping out of the pants, he slid onto the bed and between the thighs she parted in anticipation for him.
He lay there, staring into her face, allowing her to see the passionate need eating at him. His erection just touching the apex of her thighs, he braced his forearms on the mattress on either side of her head and crushed her mouth with his own.
Becca kissed him back with everything in her—her love, her need, everything. She dueled with his tongue, scraping her nails over his shoulders and down his back, thrilling to his grunt of pleasure.
Raising his body up onto his hands, Seth lowered his head to her breasts, laving the tips with his tongue before suckling first one then the other, driving her to the very edge of completion. She cried aloud in protest when he lifted his head to smile at her.
“Seth…” There was a note of pleading in her passion-roughened voice.
“Just one more kiss,” he murmured, lowering his mouth to hers.
Becca parted her lips for his kiss and gasped with pleasure as he thrust his body into hers as he thrust his tongue into her mouth.
Curling her legs around his waist, Becca hung on to him, arching into the rhythm he set. Her breathing grew steadily harsher as tension spiraled tighter and tighter inside her.
When Becca was sure she couldn’t take any more, the tension snapped, flinging her over the edge of reason. She cried out with the intensity of pleasure. A moment later, Seth’s cry echoed her own.
When he rolled to the mattress beside her, she curled close to him, snuggling into his warmth. The air in the room was even chillier than before. She shivered.
Still, she protested when he disentangled himself from her, saying, “I’m cold.”
“I know.” Laughter tinged his voice. “I’m about to take care of that.” Sitting up, he pulled the covers up and over them, not neatly but effectively.
Becca murmured her appreciation in a near purr as he drew her to him, tucking the covers around them both. She was sound asleep within minutes.
Seth lay holding Becca in his arms, satiated—for the moment. A smile played across h
is lips. He had thought he was past the age to get hard again so soon after experiencing such a mind-bending orgasm.
Apparently not. His smile vanished and a very vulnerable part of his body jerked as Becca—still sleeping—slid one leg over his, her thigh resting against his hardening erection.
Damn, he thought. While it felt good, it was also a form of delicious torture. What to do. Without conscious direction, he moved his hand to stroke her thigh. He was further torturing himself with the feel of her soft skin against the hardest part of him.
Seth froze when Becca murmured and snuggled closer, when he didn’t think it was possible for her to get any closer. Now her breast was pressing against his chest. He felt the sensation throughout his entire body. Oh, hell. He didn’t want to wake her, while at the same time, he feared he’d burst if he didn’t wake her.
What to do?
“Seth?”
Her soft voice was like balm to his body and soul. “I’m awake.” In every particle of his body, he thought, suppressing a tremor.
“I…uh…” She hesitated and shifted around, damn near drawing a groan from him.
“What is it?” he asked, managing to sound reasonably calm, when he was anything but. “Bathroom?” he added when she shifted again. He silently sighed.
“No.”
He could feel her shake her head. He swallowed, feeling her slide her leg back and forth against that most tender of spots. “More?” He hoped.
“Yesss,” she said drawing the word out in tones of satisfaction for his understanding.
Seth began to caress her, make love to her. To his vast relief, Becca would have none of it. Grasping his hips, she pulled him over her, right between her legs.
“I don’t want to wait, Seth,” she said, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Next time…maybe.”
That was encouraging, he thought. He was happy to oblige her every whim. Still, he took time to thoroughly kiss her senseless.
Unbelievably, it was even better than the first time. Seth fell asleep a very contented man.
It was barely light when Becca woke the second time. This time she did need the bathroom. Next to her, one arm circling her waist, Seth was softly snoring. Smiling, she carefully moved his arm and slid away and over the side of the bed.
