Watch Me (The Donovan Family Book 2)

by Margaret Watson

  Watch ME

  By

  Margaret

  Watson

  Copyright © 2013 by Margaret Watson

  Cover Design by Margaret Schafer

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, organizations or businesses is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Tessa glanced over her shoulder as she fished her purse out from the cabinet at the nurse's station. Kyle Nolan had wheeled his x-ray machine into a patient's room a few minutes earlier, and she was eager to get away before he finished. "Have a good night, guys," she called as she headed for the elevator. "Watch Mrs. Gates in room 807. She likes to wander. And she doesn't tie her gown closed."

  The other nurses laughed, and Tessa walked a little faster. She couldn't wait to get home. Her feet were killing her, and she felt as if she'd been dragged backward through a knot hole.

  Before she could push the call button for the elevator, a large male hand covered it. Damn it! She hadn't been fast enough.

  She stared at the hand for a moment, counted to ten, then turned to look into the pale blue eyes of Kyle Nolan. The x-ray technician held her gaze, his polite smile a thin veneer for the lust in his eyes.

  "Kyle. What are you doing?"

  He removed his hand from the buttons. "I have one last patient, then I'm done, too. Have a drink with me."

  Tessa sighed. He'd asked her the same thing repeatedly, and she'd turned him down every time. Did he think she'd suddenly change her mind? "No thanks, Kyle. I don't date co-workers. I've told you that before."

  "You go out for drinks with other people. Why not me?"

  Tessa resisted rolling her eyes. "That's not dating. It's a group of people. Friends. Not dates." She took a deep breath and stabbed the elevator call button. She and Kyle had to work together, and she’d prefer to keep things friendly. But it was time to be blunt. "I'm not interested, Kyle. In drinks or anything else. I'm sorry."

  She pushed the call button again, then leaned against the wall. Kyle shot her an angry glare, then banged the cumbersome portable x-ray machine into the doorjamb as he wheeled it toward a patient's room.

  That was one of the reasons she wasn’t interested in Kyle. Some of the nurses thought he was hot, but she didn’t like drama. Or emotion. Since Brian’s death, she kept things casual. She didn’t do relationships. She only dated guys who didn’t do relationships, either.

  Tessa leaned against the wall and sighed. If Kyle didn’t back off, she’d have to say something to her supervisor. She didn't want to get Kyle into trouble, but someone needed to straighten him out.

  As she waited for the elevator, the silence on the floor relaxed her. Faint beeping from the machines in patient rooms drifted into the hall, but most of the patients were asleep. The pace of the floor slowed after nine or so. It was almost a shame to leave at eleven, just when things calmed down.

  A man stepped out of a room at the end of the hall, and she swallowed and looked away. What was Dr. Hunter doing here at this time of night? He must have had a patient admitted.

  She could barely bring herself to look at the man anymore.

  Before she'd gotten to know him, she'd fantasized about Dr. Hunter and his wide shoulders and muscular arms. His expressive dark brown eyes. His hands.

  Then she'd gotten to know the arrogant new attending, and her fantasies had shriveled up and died. Helped along, if she was being honest with herself, by the glimpse she'd caught of her neighbor in the building next door. All of her fantasies now focused solely on the hot guy in the next building. And she'd only seen him from the waist down.

  She closed her eyes. Clearly, it had been way too long since she had sex.

  The elevator dinged, and as she waited for the door to open, she glimpsed Hunter's shadow behind him. First year intern James Dietrich was literally the orthopedic surgeon's shadow. It was a new program at Chicago's St. Christopher hospital. One intern, one doctor. It was supposed to make the intern learn the routine more naturally. Make them absorb information more organically. The hospital was very big on organic.

  James was a little overweight. Not obese, just...soft. As if he didn't exercise or watch what he ate. And he spent way too much time staring at all the nurses. The nurses thought he was creepy, but Tessa chalked it up to the intern’s poor social skills. She felt sorry for him, actually. It couldn’t be pleasant to have Hunter as his mentor.

  James gave her a little wave, as if he thought she was watching him. Tessa nodded and looked away.

  The elevator door opened, and she stepped inside. Hunter glanced down the hall, but his gaze skipped over her as if she didn't even exist. This was the guy she'd been dreaming about? Seriously? She needed to get a life outside of work. Spend some time with her friends. Go on the occasional date.

  Have some actual sex, instead of just fantasizing about it. Although she certainly enjoyed remembering how her new neighbor had looked, buck naked, playing with his cock.

  She'd probably remember him again when she got home tonight. And she'd fall asleep happy and satisfied.

  The heat was stifling when she walked out of the hospital. Humidity pressed down on her like a damp wool blanket, and the air was heavy and still. As she turned the corner, though, a breeze blew off the lake, making the heat slightly less oppressive.

  As she walked, she began to sweat. Her polyester-blend uniform stuck uncomfortably to her skin, making her glance around for a taxi. She lived three blocks from the hospital, and she liked walking home. But tonight, an air-conditioned taxi sounded really good.

  Her small apartment didn't have an air-conditioner. And even though she'd left the windows open, it would be stifling in her bedroom. She'd already lived through one summer in that apartment. She knew how bad it could get.

  Ten minutes later, as she unlocked the door and stepped inside, the air was heavy and hot. Unmoving. She turned on the fan in the living room window and welcomed the stream of air that swept over her sweaty body.

  She locked the door and headed for her bedroom, flicking on the light as she walked into the room. The window was raised, and the breeze from the living room fan stirred the white curtain, teasing it open. Her neighbor's window was open, too, but his apartment was dark. She wondered what he did – she'd only seen him that once.

  She dropped her purse on her dresser and stripped off her uniform. Then she pulled the band out of her hair and let the curls fall to her shoulders. It would be cooler if she left it up, but she hated having her hair tied back. She had to do it for work, but she released it as soon as she got home.

  As she stood in the door to her bedroom in her bra and panties, the air flowed over her in a soft caress. It swirled over her back, between her legs, across her neck. She closed her eyes and imagined that it was her unknown neighbor's hands that were caressing her instead of a breeze. He would stand behind her, lift her hair and brush his mouth over her neck. He'd whisper that she was sexy and beautiful and she was driving him mad with desire.

  He'd unhook her bra and let it drop to the floor. Then his hands would slide down her back, over her hips and around to her belly. He'd know she wanted him to touch her breasts, but he'd tease her. Make her wait. His fingers would creep higher on her belly, until they reached her ribs. He'd trace
each of them, bending to kiss her neck at the same time.

  Finally, he'd reach her breasts. He was moving way too slowly. He'd cup them lightly, touching only the bottom curve. Then he'd draw a finger between them. She'd turn, try to get him to touch her nipples, but he'd laugh against her neck and take his hands away. Then he'd start all over again.

  Tessa looked down at herself. Her hands were cupping her breasts. Squeezing them lightly. Slowly, she touched a finger to each nipple. They tightened into hard buds, and she touched them again. Her clit throbbed, and she pinched her nipples. Her knees went weak, and she dropped onto her bed.

  She was so hot. On her bed, she couldn't feel the breeze from the fan. The curtain rippled, blowing open a little, then closing again. She didn't worry that her neighbor could see her – he wasn't even home. So she lay back on her pillow and touched her breasts again.

  Her clit throbbed, and she slid her hands inside the tiny bikini panties. She was already wet. Hungry. She pulled the panties off, tossed them on the floor and brushed her fingers over the thatch of hair between her thighs. Then she squeezed her nipples again. A little harder this time, and she couldn't stop the moan that rumbled in her throat.

  She loved having her breasts touched. Kissed. Licked. Nibbled. She especially liked having a man do the touching. But she worked a lot of overtime and hadn't had a date in ages. And lately, she hadn't been interested in having anyone touch her but her neighbor.

  Who didn't know she existed.

  ***

  Quinn Donovan unlocked his apartment and walked inside, automatically locking the deadbolt behind him. He'd left his fan going in the living room window, but it hadn't helped much. The apartment was still hot as hell. He hoped the ceiling fan in the bedroom had kept the temperature below 100.

  As he walked toward the kitchen, he began to unbuckle his holster. His shirt beneath the leather-holstered Glock was wet with perspiration, and semi-circles of dark moisture stained his shirt beneath both arms. He dropped the holstered gun on the counter and yanked open his refrigerator, rooted around until he found a bottle of 312.

  Perfect summer beer. He rolled the cold bottle over his forehead before popping the cap and taking a long drink. God, there was nothing like a cold beer after a long day at work chasing shitheads and douche bags.

  Slamming off the kitchen light, he grabbed the gun off the counter and headed for his bedroom. It was marginally cooler in here, with the ceiling fan moving air sluggishly around the room.

  He reached to turn on the light, but froze when he heard a low moan. His hand tightened on the gun as he strained to listen. It sounded as if it came from the apartment on the other side of the narrow space between his building and the one next door.

  He stepped to the window and pushed his curtain to one side. Directly across from him, the light was on in his neighbor's apartment. He'd just moved in a couple of weeks earlier and hadn't yet seen the person who lived there. He or she kept the curtains closed. Up until now, he hadn't heard a peep out of the place.

  But the window was open and the curtain was fluttering. Whoever was in there moaned again, and he realized suddenly it wasn't a sound of distress. It was the sound of someone having sex.

  Ashamed of himself for not recognizing it immediately, he started to let his curtain drop and give them privacy. But just then a strong breeze lifted his neighbor's curtain, and he saw long legs splayed wide on the bed in the next apartment. Female legs, smooth and pale and...long. He couldn't see the upper half of the woman's body. But he could very clearly see the woman's hand between her thighs.

  Holy Christ.

  He dropped heavily onto the bed and the beer bottle slipped out of his fingers and landed on the floor. He grabbed it before it could topple over and pushed it out of the way, never taking his gaze off the woman next door.

  She was a redhead. The curls at the apex of her thighs were a rich, dark auburn. Her hand was spread over them, the first two fingers stroking herself. Slowly. As if she had all night and wanted to prolong the pleasure as long as possible.

  At the edge of his vision, he saw movement high on her chest. Was she touching her breasts at the same time?

  His cock sprang to life, swelling behind the zipper of his pants as he watched the woman pleasure herself. She stopped stroking for a minute, pressing down on her clit, then plucked at it a little, eliciting another moan.

  She shifted her legs wider and then lifted her knees, letting them fall to the side. As if a lover had moved between them, and she wanted to give him room. His curtain fluttered closed, and he reached out and ripped it open.

  Walk away, he told himself. It was wrong to watch. But he couldn't force himself to move. Her curtain had closed, as if the air in her apartment had stilled, holding its breath. Waiting for what would happen next. He saw her silhouette behind the white fabric, the shape of her long legs, the restless movements of her body, as if she was impatient for a lover to fuck her.

  His swollen cock got even harder, and he had to unbutton and unzip his pants to relieve the pressure. He shoved them off his hips, let them drop to the floor, and his boxers tented out in front of him.

  He leaned toward the window, as if he could make her curtains open again by the sheer force of his will. But they stayed stubbornly closed. He heard another moan, and without thinking, he grasped his cock through his boxers and stroked.

  His thumb circled his cock's head, and he closed his eyes as he listened for more sounds from the woman next door. Nothing.

  When he dragged his eyes open, he saw her curtain had parted a little. Just enough to see her hand at work again. She stroked her clit, tapped it, then stroked again. She slid one finger into her pussy, and Quinn had to bite his lip to keep from moaning himself.

  He leaned to the side and was able to see her other hand delicately fingering one nipple. She was coordinating the movements, so when she touched her nipple, she touched her clit. Her hand on her clit moved a little faster, and her hips lifted off the bed.

  He had no recollection of losing his boxers, but his hand was on his bare cock and he was stroking rhythmically, thumbing its head when he reached the top, and his other hand cupped his balls. They were already tightening, drawing up, and he was going to explode any minute.

  No. He grasped his cock in one hand, his balls in his other, and stopped moving. He didn't want to come before Red did. His cock begged him to keep going, to keep stroking, harder and harder, until he came in a hot rush. But he forced himself to wait for her.

  Would he know when she was coming? Would he be able to tell?

  She moaned again, a little higher pitched this time. Through the curtain, he saw her hips lift. Higher. Her hand moved faster.

  Yeah, she was close. He flicked the pad of his thumb over the head of his cock, swirled the pre-come around the hot tip, and had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from making any noise.

  He'd never met this woman. Never even seen her face, for Christ's sake, and he was hotter than he'd ever been in his life. Primed to explode, barely able to keep hanging on for another few minutes. He wanted to lean out and blow her curtain aside to give him a better look. He wanted to see her up close. He wanted his face in her pussy, his tongue on her clit, tasting her, sucking her, feeling her vibrate in his mouth. He wanted to be the one to make her moan like that.

  Her curtain blew gently to the side, as if it had heard him beg. Her hips were rotating on the bed as her hand moved. Faster now. Her cries were growing louder, more frantic, more unrestrained. As he watched, he couldn't stop himself from moving his hand up and down his cock. He couldn't have stopped if someone held a gun to his head. It was too late to wait for her. Too late to go slow.

  His balls tightened until they were practically sucked into his body, and he felt the first tremors deep inside. He tried to slow it down, but it was too late. A groan escaped him as he came and came and came. The spasms went on and on, harder and longer than he'd ever come before.

  While he was still
coming, a long, low cry rose in volume, and she stiffened on the bed. Her hand stopped moving and her legs began to shake. She gripped the bedspread with one hand, and the other was still pressed to her pussy.

  He wanted to lean out the window and ask if it was as good for her as it was for him. But he didn't have to.

  He could see that it was. And he began to harden again.

  Her hand fell away and she lay on her bed, unmoving. Her legs were spread open, her pussy glistening and wet. Her hand rested on her thigh, and he could see it was wet with her juices. His cock jerked in his hand, and he began stroking himself again. This time, he didn't have to wait for his neighbor. It was clear she was done.

  And wasn't that a shame. A lover would be all over her, touching her, tasting her, making her come again. And again.

  And coming himself inside her.

  Chapter 2

  Two weeks later

  Shivering, Tessa edged away from the open door of her apartment. It was crazy to feel so cold, since it was about a hundred degrees in the hall of her apartment building. She'd even pulled on the hoodie she took to work. But as she listened to the 911 operator, shudders wracked her body.

  "Detective Donovan was in the vicinity," the operator said. Her voice was calm. Soothing. "He's approaching the building now. He'll ring your buzzer in a few moments."

  Sure enough, five seconds later her doorbell buzzed. Tessa reached into her apartment and pressed the button to unlock the door.

  "Okay. I buzzed him in. Thank you." Without waiting for an answer, she turned off her phone.

  Footsteps were coming up the stairs quickly. In moments, a man appeared on the landing. He held a badge in his hand. "Quinn Donovan. I'm a detective."

  He stopped six feet away so she could see his badge. "Okay." She slid her phone into the pocket of her uniform. "Thank you."

  "The patrol officers will be here in a few minutes. I was a lot closer when your call came in. Were you injured? Are you all right?"