by Amy Andrews
Luca held her tight against him as she whimpered and gyrated her pelvis, grinding herself against the hard intrusion of his fingers.
The orgasm began to fade and Mia felt as if she was walking through a rainbow. Cool mists of colour stroked her skin like sighs, caressing and cradling, bringing her down gently despite the frantic beat of her heart and the tortured sound of her breath.
Finally her feet touched the ground and she opened her eyes. Became aware that she was leaning heavily into Luca, his hands were cradling her hips and his erection still coursed hard and potent in her hand.
She moved against him. Dropped her leg to the floor, kicked off her boot and turned in his arms.
Luca brushed her hair off her shoulder. ‘Warm now?’ He grinned.
Mia laughed. A part of her was vaguely aware the floor tiles were warm underfoot and that he could obviously afford to fork out for one of the more luxuriously appointed apartments. And that he no doubt had Bridge and Opera house views too.
But none of that mattered as she plastered her lips to his. It only mattered that she could make him groan just like that. And…she rubbed herself along the length of him…hard just like this.
‘Shower,’ she murmured, pulling back and quickly divesting herself of her underwear before stepping into the spacious cubicle.
She turned through the cloud of steam. ‘Are you coming?’ she asked.
Luca, captivated by the water running over her naked body and her hair turning dark gold as the spray doused it, didn’t move for a moment.
‘Luca,’ Mia growled impatiently, taking in his partially undressed body and his very, very aroused state. ‘Come here and do me against the tiles.’
Her provocative words galvanised him into action and he tore at his shirt, toeing off his shoes, grabbing for his wallet before he divested himself of his trousers, pulling out a foil packet, ripping it open and hastily donning the protection he never went without.
Two steps and he was in a cloud of steam, enveloped by hot water and her. He plastered her against the requested wall and plundered her lips and her neck and her breasts with his mouth. Then he boosted her up the tiles, positioned her slippery body at just the right height and plunged straight into her, his mouth swallowing her guttural cry.
Luca pounded into her relentlessly, satisfied to hear her gasps, to see the loll of her head as each thrust rocked her entire body. He tongued her breasts, her heat and her sweat and her essence in each drop of water sluicing over her nipples.
Pressure built strongly and relentlessly as each drive took him closer. In his veins, in his head, in his loins. Pleasure, so intense it hurt, coiled low in his gut. She cried out and bucked in his arms and the coil whipped out, cracking like a lightning strike, zapping every erogenous zone, every cell.
She tightened around him and he came and he came and he came.
* * *
Luca was in the kitchen, percolating coffee in nothing but a low-slung towel, when Mia came out of the bathroom dressed in the clothes she’d arrived in half an hour earlier.
Minus her underwear.
And the earring she’d lost somewhere in the midst of the head-banging sex. Down the drainhole, she suspected. Her hair was hanging in wet strips down her back and her body ached all over.
In a good way.
‘Coffee?’ he asked.
Mia shook her head, distracted by the perfection of him. Broad shoulders, trim hips, flat belly. His damp hair curled around his nape and ears. She felt the slight ache inside her begin to throb in carnal recognition of him and the things he could do.
It’d be so easy to take four or five paces forward and whip that towel away. Drop to her knees. Show him she was a pretty dab hand at doling out pleasure too. Go again right there on the kitchen floor as her traitorous body was demanding.
But then what? Once more after that? Stay the night?
She wasn’t a stay-the-night kind of girl. It was why she always went to the guy’s place—easier to leave and never look back than to tell someone to go.
‘No, thanks,’ she murmured. ‘I’m going to head home.’
Luca lounged against the bench and crossed his arms over his very impressive chest. ‘You’re not clingy. I like that.’
Mia nodded. ‘Good. Looks like we’ll get along just fine, then.’
‘I think you’re the first woman I’ve met who didn’t want to be held afterwards.’
Mia shook her head. ‘Not the cuddling type, I’m afraid.’
Luca regarded her silently for a few moments. He could almost buy into her act. Except he’d seen another side to her that first night. Sure, Mia McKenzie seemed feisty and tough but there was definitely a vulnerable side.
She was an intriguing woman.
‘And why is that?’ Luca mused.
Mia knew exactly why. She wasn’t blind to the scars that growing up in an emotionally barren house had left. Sex was a quick, easy connection—she’d found that out at uni. But cuddling—staying?—was hard. Sex was physically intimate. Cuddles emotionally intimate. Certainly not something she’d had an awful lot of experience with from the main male role model in her life as she’d been growing up.
Cuddles called for a certain level of trust. And she’d been too scarred to trust anyone at any level—particularly men.
He was standing patiently, all big and solid, looking at her with expectation. She could have easily opened her mouth and told him the reasons.
But it was none of his damn business.
‘It sends the wrong message,’ she said.
Mia shifted slightly as Luca studied her with his big brown eyes. It was kind of unnerving.
She straightened her shoulders. ‘Do you have a problem with that?’
Like she cared if he did.
Luca stayed very still. ‘No. It just seems like something a—’
‘What?’ she interrupted, scorn lacing her voice as her blood pressure rose a couple of notches. ‘A man? Like something a man would say?’
Why was it okay for men to use women for sex but not for women to use men?
‘It’s a new century, Luca. Gotta move with the times.’
Luca chuckled at the sudden glint of fire in her stained-glass eyes. Her whole body had become animated. His gaze drifted to the bounce of her unfettered breasts before it flicked back to her face. ‘Sicilian men aren’t known for their tendency to move with the times.’
Mia shoved her hands on her hips as her nipples responded to his blatant stare. ‘You going to go all Neanderthal on me, Luca?’
Luca pushed off the bench and moved towards her. ‘Not at all. I am a highly evolved Sicilian. I like a woman who knows what she wants.’
Mia watched him prowl closer and felt that ache intensify. How was it possible to look sexy and menacing all at the same time?
He stopped in front of her, close, nearly touching. But not. ‘Especially one who appreciates the type of liaisons I also happen to favour.’ He dropped his gaze to her mouth for long moments before returning it to her face. ‘Where have you been all my life?’ He grinned.
It took Mia a moment to reel her body in enough to respond. Kissing him seemed the best course of action but she needed to go home.
She. Must. Go. Home.
And never come back.
Mia took a step back. ‘Goodnight, Luca. See you in the morning.’
Luca watched the sway of her hips as she made her way to the door and felt himself twitch beneath the towel. ‘I’m having a party in a couple of weeks. Everyone from work is coming. You should too.’
Mia’s hand paused on the doorknob. ‘No,’ she said, without looking back.
One thing she knew for sure was that Luca wasn’t like any other man she’d known. In a brief time he’d got firmly under her skin and she wasn’t about to lose the upper hand to him.
There wouldn’t be a next time. Certainly not a party.
Luca’s wicked chuckle mocked her as she turned the handle and slipped out of the apartme
nt.
* * *
Evie bustled through the deserted outpatients department at seven o’clock the next evening. She’d begged a chart from Enid Kenny, the NUM of the department earlier, who’d relinquished it only after Evie had promised faithfully to personally return it before she left for the day.
Someone else might have sent a courier but not Evie. Sister Enid Kenny was an institution around The Harbour and not to be messed with! Hence the sweet note and box of chocolates she was also clutching in her hand.
She turned right, passing a row of examination rooms on her way to Enid’s office. She noticed a light on in the far office. Voices floated out. Male voices. She frowned. Who on earth was working this late?
Then, to her utter surprise, Finn stepped out, followed by Rupert Davidson. Evie faltered and dived into the nearest exam room. Recovering quickly, she cautiously peeked around the door. In the empty department their voices carried easily and she eavesdropped unashamedly.
She watched as they shook hands and Rupert said, ‘You’re entitled to a second opinion, Finn. But you know as well as I do that the conservative approach is only a sticky plaster and you can’t keep going on like this. Surgery will have to happen at some stage.’
Then Finn nodded but even from a few metres away she could see that familiar set to his unshaven jaw. ‘Thanks, Rupert. I’ll think about it.’
And then he turned and walked away in the opposite direction.
Evie fell back against the wall of the examination room, her heart pounding. What the hell had that been about? She grappled with what she’d heard and seen, trying to make sense of it.
Finn was seeing Rupert? A neurologist? You can’t keep going on like this. Was there something wrong?
She recalled the uneasy feelings she’d had for a while now that something was up with Finn, and the rumours that he’d been wounded on a tour in Afghanistan when he’d been in the army. Had he sustained injuries during his time there? Injuries that could affect his job?
Eric Frobisher, SHH’s officious medical director, would be furious if that was the case. He and Finn already butted heads on a regular basis.
Evie drummed her fingers against the chart as curiosity and concern for Finn warred within her. She told herself it was pure collegial interest. One doctor looking out for another. Even if said doctor was the most surly and unappreciative man she’d ever met.
Making a decision, Evie waited for a couple of minutes before pushing herself off the wall and heading towards her original destination. She stopped in mid-stride as she passed the last office and blinked at Rupert with what she hoped was her very best round-eyed surprise.
‘Rupert?’ she asked. ‘What are you still doing here? Burning the candle at both ends?’
Rupert, who was writing in a chart, laughed as he put down his pen. ‘No such luck. Just a late appointment.’
Evie nodded, glancing at the chart trying to see a name. ‘Gosh, that’s dedication.’ She smiled.
Rupert shrugged. ‘It was a favour.’ He nodded at the package in her hand. ‘What about you? Those chocolates for me?’
She laughed. ‘Oh, no, these are major sucking-up chocolates for Enid.’
Rupert laughed back. ‘You’re coming to Luca’s party in a couple of weeks?’ she asked.
Rupert nodded. ‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
‘Great,’ she said as she backed out the door, her head still swimming with what she’d just witnessed.
What in the hell was wrong with Finn Kennedy?
CHAPTER FIVE
TWO weeks later Mia was watching the clock, thinking that for once in her working life she might actually get off on time. Her shift, one of those rare short shifts, was due to finish at two and things were looking good. With Evie going off to Luca’s party tonight—the one she was not going to attend, no matter how much Evie begged—she had a quiet night of reading planned.
The latest blockbuster novel had been sitting on her bedside table, gathering dust, for too long.
She glanced nervously over at the man in question as he spoke on the phone at the other end of the central monitoring station. She’d managed to keep her attraction at bay this past fortnight—until last night. A cluttered, semi-dark storeroom had seriously tried her resolve to keep away when they’d both ended up inside. His body had been big and close, his lips had kicked up into a frank smile, his gaze firmly fixed on her mouth.
How she hadn’t pushed him against the wall and ravaged him she still wasn’t sure.
But she hadn’t. She’d caught herself at the last second. Remembered that she’d already broken her golden rule once and she wasn’t going to do it again. Even if he was the most skilled, most exciting lover she’d ever known.
Unfortunately, the buzz from last night’s near kiss was still vibrating through her system and they’d been trading furtive glances all morning. He’d looked at her with undiluted lust half an hour ago and she still could barely see straight.
His gaze met hers again, his brown eyes knowing, and her pulse picked up a notch.
‘Ambulance two minutes out.’
The urgent note in Nola’s voice dragged her attention back to reality and Mia looked down to where the efficient triage nurse sat, the red emergency phone to her ear, speaking out loud as she wrote the details down from the ambulance coms centre.
‘Thirty-year-old male. Jumper. Two storeys. Bilateral comminuted fractured tib and fibs, right compound fractured femur, query fractured pelvis, query spinal injuries, fractured right ribs, GCS twelve, major internal injuries, query ruptured spleen, hypotensive and tachycardic.’
Luca joined them, all business now as he read the details again over Nola’s shoulder.
‘I’ll page Ortho and General Surgery,’ Mia said, grabbing the phone nearest her as the distant wail of a siren permeated the thick walls of the hospital.
Luca also picked up a phone. ‘I’ll alert blood bank that we might need to initiate the massive transfusion protocol.’
By the time the ambulance pulled up a minute later, everything was prepped and Luca and Mia were standing outside, ready to receive the patient.
Luca grabbed the ambulance doorhandle and pulled it open as the paramedic driving the vehicle joined them, launching into a rapid-fire handover of injuries, actual and suspected.
He and the treating paramedic pulled the gurney out of the back of the ambulance. The patient was moaning, his face covered by an oxygen mask.
‘Pupils equal and reacting,’ the paramedica continued as they pushed the gurney towards the entrance, Mia and Luca keeping pace. ‘BP ninety over sixty, pulse one hundred and forty, resps fifty and shallow. Right chest tube inserted on scene, two IV cannulae wide open.’
‘Do we know what happened?’ Mia asked, clinging to the gurney rail as they practically flew inside to the prepared trauma cubicle.
‘Paternity test showed he wasn’t the baby’s daddy,’ the paramedic stated dispassionately.
Mia felt a prickle up her spine as she and Luca shared a look. ‘Is his name Stan?’ she asked.
The paramedic nodded. ‘Stanley James.’
Repeat customers—especially suicides attempts—were reasonably common in the department. As were frequent-flyer drug addicts and patients with chronic conditions. Mia treated them all with courtesy and professionalism, careful not to get emotionally invested in them.
But this man had held her at knifepoint. Had yanked her back into the convoluted emotions of her childhood. Had been the catalyst for what had happened later that night with Luca.
Mia felt sick as two nurses descended and between the four of them they quickly transferred Stan to the hospital gurney on the count of three. Whether she liked it or not, she and Stanley were connected.
And she really didn’t want to have to deal with that.
Stan pulled his mask off and grabbed her hand. ‘I told you,’ he said. ‘I told you she was cheating on me.’
Mia looked into his anguished face, trying
not to see her father, trying only to see the man who had menaced her with a knife. But he looked…broken.
Just like her father.
‘It’s going to be okay, Stan,’ she murmured, replacing his mask as people bustled around her. ‘We’re going to get you patched up.’
He pulled it off again. ‘No. Just leave me. Just leave me to die.’
Mia and Luca’s gazes met for a moment. She felt rage build inside as she looked back down at Stan. He’d taken the coward’s way out, just like her father. Her father had walked, Stan had jumped—both ways showed very little regard for the people left behind.
For a tiny baby. For a bewildered ten-year-old girl.
‘Please, just let me die,’ Stan begged.
Mia bit down on the urge to tell Stan that if he’d really wanted to die he should have jumped from a higher building. The fact that he hadn’t spoke volumes about the incident. She doubted it was a true attempt—more like a cry for help.
And she was damned if she was going to let him die on her watch.
She put the mask back. ‘Can’t do that, I’m afraid, Stan.’
‘We need X-Ray,’ Luca said. ‘And get Psych down here. I want to consult with John Allen.’
Luca and Mia, their personal situation forgotten, worked methodically over the next hour to stabilise Stan for Theatre. They intubated, placed lines and another chest tube, gave blood and plasma expanders, consulted with Ortho, General Surgery and Radiology.
And all the time Luca was chanting, Come on, Stan, come on Stan, come on Stan. Don’t die. Don’t die. Don’t die. If it took everything he had, Luca was not going to let this man die.
Not that he’d ever been particularly emotional about life-and-death situations. Being a trauma specialist, he saw the struggle between the two on a regular basis. Like two powerfully competing forces pulling in opposite directions. He worked hard to save every patient but not even he was arrogant enough to assume that hard work was always enough.
Sometimes, no matter what he threw at a patient, they died.
He got that. People died.
Children, teenagers, athletes, mothers, forty-year-olds with everything to live for.
