by Tina Beckett
Greg’s voice came back to her. “It’s okay. Just rest a few more minutes.”
Unable to do anything else, she watched as he cleaned up the remainder of their shared meal, tossing containers into one of the trash cans and drawing the plastic bag up tight.
Sure enough, the vibrating pad began to warm, the heat working its way into the affected muscle. It didn’t completely relax but the pain wasn’t quite as severe as it had been moments earlier. Maybe she could…Shifting a bit, she gasped as the muscle contracted again.
“Lie still. You’re not going anywhere for a couple of hours.”
A couple of hours? A second ago he’d said to rest for a few minutes.
“Why don’t you go to the hospital and then head home? I’ll be fine in a little while. Promise.”
“Not going to happen, Hannah. The hospital can do without me for one night. I’ve already told them to call me if there’s an emergency.”
Guilt rolled through her. He never skipped his rounds that she knew of. Always did them every night. Even weekends.
And here he was, stuck at the office, babysitting the person who’d told him to get some rest. Having to take care of her. Again. Just like during her treatments.
The thought brought tears to her eyes. She never wanted to go back to those days of fear and pain and that dark hole that had threatened to close over the top of her.
Stop it. You’re not sick. It’s just a muscle cramp.
The pain would soon be gone then she’d be strong and healthy once again. Free to live every day to the fullest. She visualized those words, made them her reality. Added an image of herself with a rounded tummy and pink, glowing cheeks. She was happy. Content.
Pregnant.
She blinked, remembering the procedure she’d undergone just that morning. She also realized her back was feeling better, at least while she was lying still. If she could just stay where she was a few minutes longer…
A half hour later, she found herself again nodding off, the pain finally sliding away. The vibrations stopped and she was aware of the heating pad being lifted off and gentle hands again moving over her back, this time right where it had hurt. She pulled in a deep breath and felt nothing but that contentment she’d reached for a few minutes earlier. “It’s gone.” She whispered the words, afraid the pain would find her again if she spoke any louder.
“I’m sorry. Do you want me to put it back?”
“Put it…?” She realized he was talking about the heating pad. “No, I meant my back feels better. Can you help me sit up?”
“Yes, but we’re going to roll you onto your back first so you won’t have to twist at an awkward angle. I don’t want to give that muscle any reason to flare up again.” He placed his hands on her right shoulder and hip. “Ready?”
His fingers were almost as warm as the heating pad and a tiny shudder went through her. “I’m ready.”
“On three.” He counted slowly and when he reached three, before she could even brace her hands on the floor and help, he’d gently rolled her over.
Moving a tiny bit, she tested her muscles. Nothing felt out of place or sore.
His brown eyes slid over her face. “Everything okay?”
“I think so.”
“Let’s just wait a minute or two.” He nodded toward the reception desk. “I have some carisoprodol, just in case.”
She shifted again, a little more this time, to see if anything acted up. Still nothing. “I think the worst is over. And I’d rather not drive with that kind of medication in my system.”
“I’ll take you home.”
“Muscle relaxants knock me for a loop, and I’m never myself the next day.” She didn’t want to tell him that her year of treatment had conditioned her throat to constrict at the sight of anything that resembled a capsule. “I have to work tomorrow, remember?”
“Stay home.”
She lifted her hand, feeling at a distinct disadvantage lying flat on her back. “Help me up, and then we’ll talk about it.”
Greg stood and then curled his hand around hers. She sensed a slight hesitation on his part before his grip tightened and his arm bent at the elbow as he applied steady pressure. Their connected palms were doing crazy things to her stomach so, in an effort to hurry the process up, she braced her feet and launched herself into a vertical position.
Her momentum carried her straight into his chest where she landed with a thump.
Ack!
Greg wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her against his solid body as she tried to catch her breath.
At least her stupid move hadn’t sent her back into another spasm.
Something she couldn’t say about her heart, which was pumping at an alarming rate. A hundred and twenty beats per minute at least…and rising by the second.
She tried to act nonchalant, as if falling against her employer was something she did on a regular basis. And it was no big deal. She’d hugged him before after all. “Sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have gotten up so fast.”
“I’ll say.” The murmured words ruffled her hair and sent her heart on another race for the finish line. “How’s your back?”
She wiggled the upper part of her body back and forth to feel it out, then realized she’d just done a quick shimmy against his thorax.
Her nipples contracted in reaction, and she blurted out the first thing she could think of: “Can’t feel a thing.”
The hand at her back tightened. “Can’t you?”
Um, yeah. And it wasn’t good. Because she was suddenly aware of every inch of male flesh pressed against her. Muscular chest, firm abs, taut thighs, and…
No, it couldn’t be. She licked her lips, telling herself to pull back now before he realized that she realized that he was…
He was…
Yes. He was.
And if she shifted one millimeter, she’d be rubbing right against his was. Lord, did she want to press just a little bit.
And like that horrible thing that often happened when you told yourself not to do something—like not to eat that whole pint of ice cream in one sitting—your body did the exact opposite.
She pressed.
And the sound of his breath hissing in through his teeth met her ears.
Okay. Now he knew that she knew.
She slowly lifted her head and met eyes that were sizzling with something she hadn’t seen in a very long time in a man. Especially not directed at her.
Desire.
Steaming. Naked. Toe-curling need.
“Greg?” She had no idea why she said his name, but his gaze darkened further.
One hand came up and slid into her hair, his thumb resting along her jaw. “How’s your back?”
“Better.” The words came out in a whisper, because suddenly she knew why he was asking. She emphasized her point. “Much better.”
“Hannah.” His thumb applied gentle pressure to tilt her head up, even as he angled his own down until only a breath of space remained between them. “You know this is a very bad idea.”
“Worse than playing with matches?”
“Much worse.”
It was. But the fascination of running that match across a strike plate and watching it flare to life proved too much to resist. Besides, she wasn’t sure she even had what it took to light that particular fire. Closing her eyes, she bridged the gap between them, deciding to prove him right…and herself wrong.
He didn’t want her. Couldn’t.
The second her lips met his, though, and the hand at her nape hauled her even closer, she knew.
He could.
And he did.
CHAPTER FOUR
GREG wasn’t sure who kissed whom first, but he knew with certainty there was nowhere he’d rather be right now. First she’d coaxed him to eat. Then to sleep. When he’d awoken, he’d found her right there beside him—even if she had been folded into something reminiscent of a cube. Her mouth had been slightly open, one hand curled softly against her chest. Her br
easts had slowly risen and fallen as she’d breathed. The sight had sent his endocrine system on a rampage, pumping chemicals through his body. Then she’d looked up with those big green eyes, and he’d been lost. He’d stayed where he was, when he should have run.
No, that wasn’t completely true. He’d been pretty sure he could walk away without a problem, until that singular moment when her hips had seemed to zero in on a certain part of his anatomy. The part that was now issuing all sorts of commands he wasn’t sure he could resist.
He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, ready to pull back at the first sign of hesitation on her part.
Damn it, what was he thinking? Her back had just gone through hell and back, and here he was, mauling her to within an inch of her life.
But wasn’t she mauling him right back, her fists buried in his starched shirt and hanging on for dear life?
Still, he had to be sure.
“Your back,” he whispered against her lips.
“Forgotten.”
“But—”
She pulled him close and cut off his words with another lingering kiss.
Okay, if that’s the way she wanted to play this, who was he to complain? Besides, he was tired of warring against his emotions, trying to keep them in check so as not to alarm his patients, or hand out undue hope, if things took a turn for the worse.
Like with Martha Brookstone?
No, don’t think of that right now.
He was with someone who’d fought the disease. Who’d won. He gloried in that. Celebrated Hannah’s life. Her health. It was why he’d surrounded himself with people just like her, to remind himself that cancer could be beaten. Not all of the time. His own sister had…
His fingers tightened in Hannah’s hair, desperate to feel the life force coursing through her body, her heart pumping strongly against his own.
Life! This was what it was about. The need for closeness, to reaffirm your own existence.
Surely just this once he could block out the real world.
The blinds were closed. Door locked. Alarm set.
And, most of all, there was a beautiful, willing woman in his arms.
Her low sigh melted his resistance even further, and Greg gentled his kiss, taking the time to taste her, to measure the softness of her lips against his. His tongue slid in a slow arc across the surface of her teeth, then back again, his senses roaring to life when she opened her mouth in invitation. Stunned by the force of his reaction, he hung around outside for a second or two, until her tongue touched the underside of his, leading him inside. Coaxing him, just like she’d done with his meal. Before he knew it, he was right there, the interplay of textures and heat making it impossible for him to retreat again.
His hand left her hair, sliding down her back until it lay just above the curve of her buttocks. A very dangerous place to be. Once he took that leap there’d be no going back.
On that note, he lingered in her mouth, needing to show her exactly what she was doing to him, and that if she intended to call a halt to things, it needed to be soon.
She didn’t. She met each stroke by moving closer, protested each withdrawal with a soft bite to his lower lip. His hands slid down and over in unison, his fingers curving on the rounded flesh he found there. It filled his palms, set his whole body on fire.
He pulled her up and against him, hoping to relieve a little of the ache that was growing steadily worse. And hoping the shock would knock them both back into the realm of reality. Except Greg didn’t want reality. He wanted the fantasy…to keep her here. With him. Wanted to wish their clothing gone and to drive every last inch of himself into her—to fill her to capacity and beyond.
Hannah released her hold on his shirt, and at first he thought she meant to pull away. Instead, the top button of his shirt popped free, as if…
His lips left hers in question, and he caught her smile. Then another button was plucked loose.
She was undoing his shirt. There went the third button. It was either allow her to keep going or let go of her and stop her.
Her hands settled on his bare chest, upping the ante. Especially when they wandered down, purposely sliding over his nipples in the process. His eyes squeezed shut as he tried to hold on to some small portion of his sanity.
When her fingers seemed to want to stay and visit for a while, teasing and testing, he had no choice. He let go of her, reaching up to capture her wrists and carry them behind her back.
“You’re treading on dangerous ground.”
Her brows went up. “I hadn’t even gotten to the dangerous part yet.”
Greg couldn’t stop a quick laugh of surprise. This was a side of Hannah he hadn’t known existed. But he liked it.
He took her mouth again. Harder this time. His free hand slid beneath her blouse and claimed the very thing he’d just denied her, the lacy bra providing almost no barrier. And he reveled in it—in the tightly drawn nipple that pressed against the fabric and scraped lusciously against his palm. When he rolled the bud between his thumb and forefinger, she moaned into his mouth.
Yes.
God, he wanted her. Now.
He let go of her and grasped the bottom of her blouse, holding her gaze as she slowly raised her arms above her head so he could take it off. Her shirt was as far as he got, though, because she reached back and unhooked the black bra herself, letting it fall from her body. Still no sign that her back was bothering her. But, hell, if the sight of her naked breasts didn’t hurt him in a very different kind of way.
When he started to move forward again, she backed up a step and reached for the button of her slacks. “Here’s where it starts getting dangerous.”
Holy hell. Surely she didn’t mean to…
In an instant she’d unzipped them and pushed them down her hips, kicking them away from her. Her black panties were barely there, just a scrap of lace with a crisscrossing of strings on the sides. He had no idea where they led or what the back looked like, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“Hannah,” he warned, when her fingertips slipped beneath the ties.
She gave a soft laugh. “Your turn, then.”
His turn to what? Take off his clothes? Remove her last article of clothing himself?
He assumed she meant for him to start shucking his own clothes, so he finished unbuttoning his shirt and slung the garment to the side. His fingers weren’t quite as steady as hers, but it had been a long time since he’d been with anyone. A very long time. His hours were too crazy, and he was too exhausted by the time he got home.
And yet right now he seemed to have the energy of an eighteen-year-old boy.
Hannah moved back in before he could go any further and slid her palms up his chest, and rested them on his shoulders, leaning in to kiss the base of his throat.
That wasn’t where he wanted her. “Hey.”
When she looked up, he took her mouth, wrapping his arms around the bare skin of her back, trying to absorb everything at once. The heat of her skin against his, the softness of her breasts.
Breasts he wanted to devour.
He gripped her hips, intending to ease her back so he could cup them, but the strings on her panties sidetracked him. He followed them around. The back had a satiny feel as opposed to the lace in front. Part of him was relieved, part of him disappointed. He’d half hoped to find nothing there.
But it didn’t matter, because he could just do this…
He slid his fingers between the elastic band and her skin and repeated on her bare bottom what he’d done earlier when she’d still been wearing pants. He squeezed, trying to get his fill, then pulled back enough to push her underwear halfway down her legs, his mouth having to leave hers to do so. This time when his hands returned to their perch, he pulled her tight against him, her bare flesh pressing directly on the hard bulge at the front of his slacks. He ground against her, once…twice, swallowing hard when she gave a tiny whimper, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
Enough!
<
br /> He scooped her up in his arms in a quick movement and carried her past the still-propped-open doorway in back. His office had a couch.
And a desk.
Yes.
That’s where he wanted her. On his desk, legs splayed open, with him between them. His flesh tightened beyond belief.
That decadent image would carry him through many a lonely night.
And there’d be no danger of hurting her back.
He gave a rough laugh.
Sure. That was the reason.
He pushed on the handle, but it didn’t budge. Damn. Locked.
“Where’s the key?” she whispered.
“Left front pocket.” Thank heavens he’d kept his trousers on.
“I think I can get it.” Hannah scooched her arm between their bodies, her breasts jiggling in a way that made his mouth water. She found his pocket, dipped in and instead of finding his keys and retreating, her hand drifted to the right and curved over the tight ridge of flesh. The fingers massaged and squeezed and drove the breath from his lungs.
“Those aren’t my keys, woman.”
She gave a soft laugh. “I know.” Her nails scraped down his length, the fabric keeping it from hurting while also making it the most erotic sensation he’d ever felt. He almost did the unthinkable standing right there in front of his door.
“Hannah…please.”
She kissed the side of his neck and retrieved his keys. “I like it when you say please.”
That “please” now encompassed asking God to help him make it inside his office.
“Unlock the door.”
He turned his body sideways to allow her to reach the lock, which she undid in record time. Pushing his way past the door, he carried her over to his desk. He surveyed it, trying to figure out where to put her. “Push the pencil cup onto the floor.”
Her brows went up, but she did as he asked, the offending object flying off the side of the desk, shedding pens and pencils as it went. He then set her on the edge and stepped back to watch her as he undid his own pants.
He was afraid she’d get up, but she didn’t. She sat there, panties still halfway down her legs, her arms going back to prop herself on the wide wooden surface. The act pushed her breasts up and out, while pushing his self-control to the breaking point.
