NYC Angels: Tempting Nurse Scarlet

by Wendy S. Marcus

  He followed her in, dragging the door closed behind him, landing on his knees beside her. “Payback.”

  She laughed and wiggled around, her leg brushed against his, her foot came dangerously close to—“Whoa.” He grabbed it. “Easy does it. We’re in tight quarters here.”

  She clicked on his flashlight and shined the light on a strip of condoms he’d hidden in the far corner under the sleeping bag. At least he’d thought he’d hidden them.

  “Once a Boy Scout, always a Boy Scout,” he explained. “A good Boy Scout is always prepared.”

  “On the off chance you might wind up in a closet with a woman and need a condom,” she added sarcastically.

  He smiled. “On the off chance I might wind up in the closet with you and need a condom.”

  Scarlet looked at him. He looked at her. Neither spoke. The air around them grew thick with lust or maybe from a buildup of carbon dioxide.

  “So here we are,” she said, sounding uncharacteristically nervous.

  “Yes,” he shifted onto his back—because if he sat up his head would disappear into the bottoms of the coats—and bent his legs, setting his feet on the sleeping bag. “Here we are.”

  She sat squeezed into the back corner, with her knees bent up to her chest and her arms clutched tightly around her shins, facing him. “Lewis, I don’t think—”

  “Don’t think.” He reached for her hand and tugged. “Just for tonight, one night, let’s not think about anything or anyone. Only us. You and me.” His tug progressed to a coaxing pull. “We’re the only two people in our little closet world. Nothing exists outside these four walls.”

  He held his breath. She had to come to him willingly. Would she?

  He stayed quiet. He waited. He prayed to the God of Blue Balls.

  Mere seconds before he was about to break down and beg, his prayers were answered. Scarlet slid in next to him, lay down on her side and rested her head on his shoulder. The best part of all, she shimmied in so close to his side not even a molecule of dust could squeeze between them.

  He curled his arm around her hip.

  “Promise me one thing,” she said, setting two fingers on his chest, tracing a figure-eight around his nipples, then skimming them down, all the way down, so close, almost there. She cupped him and Lewis nearly came on contact.

  He dropped his knees open, as best he could, considering the left one hit the closet door, to give her room to maneuver around unimpeded. “Anything.” At this moment in time he would give her any damn thing she wanted to get her to squeeze him and stroke him, to straddle him and take him inside of her hot body.

  “Tomorrow.” She hesitated, but while she did she kept her hand moving. Up and down. Tip to base. Lower. Amazing.

  “Afterwards,” she continued. “When Jessie comes home and we return to our regular lives, promise me things won’t get weird between us.”

  The constant motion of her hand made it difficult to think clearly. But Lewis knew one thing for certain. He valued Scarlet’s friendship, and would do everything in his power to see that whatever happened between them in the next forty-eight hours didn’t interfere with it. “I promise.”

  As if his reassurance cleared away any lingering doubts, Scarlet pushed herself up and lifted her tank over her head revealing a pair of beautiful, nicely rounded, dark pink-tipped, fantasy-worthy breasts. Those flashlight batteries had better hold out until he had the chance to see every last inch of her.

  “Remove your shorts,” she said.

  Gladly. A lift and a lift, down, off, done.

  When he finished she climbed on top of him. “Hey, what about yours?” He palmed the tiny cotton shorts covering her ass and guided her right where he wanted her. The feeling transcendent, better than any other time with any other woman. Ever.

  He pushed off with his feet and thrust his pelvis up to grind against her wanting, no, needing more.

  “You in a hurry?”

  He didn’t want to be, but taking it slow would not work, not this first time, not when he was primed and ready. Oh. So. Ready.

  “I’ll go slow next time.” He reached up to cup her shoulder blades and pulled her down, needed to have her hot naked flesh pressed to his, needed to feel her aroused nipples, the curve of her waist, the smoothness of her skin, her hair, her lips.

  God help him, her lips.

  Time passed in a series of deep, passion-filled kisses and desperate caresses. Lewis felt cocooned in a place he never wanted to leave. The temperature rose. Their moans grew louder, their movements more urgent.

  Then it happened. In the process of rubbing along his erection she shifted at the same time he lifted and the leg opening of her shorts drifted and Lewis entered paradise.

  “Condom,” she cried out.

  Holding perfectly still, when every cell of his body demanded he pull back and thrust into her over and over and over until he finally…finally found the release he’d been craving for so long, was a feat worthy of a gold medal in restraint.

  Scarlet eased off of him, reached for something, and handed him a condom. While she rushed to finish undressing in the close confines of their tiny closet, Lewis sheathed himself. When she finished and pushed up onto her knees, Lewis thought, This is it! The moment I’ve been waiting for and fantasizing about. But instead of climbing onto him, she reached up into the coats and started pushing them to the side to create a space for herself.

  Then she closed her hands around the thin metal rod and yanked on it. “Do you think this will hold me?”

  It figured. A simple him on bottom her on top wasn’t good enough for Scarlet. “So I guess I have my answer,” he said with a smile. “Adventurous birds do flock together.”

  She smiled back. “I thought maybe if you could go up on your knees.”

  He did. “Given this some thought, have you?”

  Her smile widened. “I may have spent a few minutes imagining what I’d like to do with you if we ever wound up in a closet together.”

  Not just any man, but with him. Lewis liked that.

  She lowered her body until she hung in front of him.

  Lewis liked that even more.

  “Take my legs and wrap them around your waist.”

  “With pleasure.” Lots and lots of pleasure. He lined them up and she crossed her ankles behind him. “You ready?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  He thrust into her, already knowing how good it’d feel, buried himself as deep as he could possibly go and took a moment to savor the intensity of her tight heat surrounding him, gripping him.

  “Hanging from a closet rod here,” she reminded him. “Fast would be good.”

  Lewis gave her what she wanted, what he wanted, driving into her, over and over. Her breasts bobbed at eye level, an inviting treat he couldn’t pass up. She cried out when he sucked her nipple into his mouth.

  “That feels so good.”

  Lewis repositioned himself to free up one of his hands so he could caress her elongated torso, starting at her hip, up her ribs, to her other nipple. And while thrusting into her, and lavishing attention on one breast with his mouth, he fondled the other one, because he wanted to make her feel a thousand times better than good.

  Scarlet moaned and rocked against him faster and more urgent.

  “Faster,” she said.

  He met her thrust for frantic thrust. His balls tightened. Her body stiffened.

  And with a loud crack the cheap peace of crap rod holding Scarlet broke and she started to fall. Lewis grabbed for her, lost his balance, but delayed her descent enough that when they both hit the ground it was on top of a pile of coats.

  “Don’t stop,” she said, pulling him on top of her.

  He couldn’t straighten his legs and had his head mashed up against his leather jacket. “Are you okay?” Lewis asked, the doctor in him wanting to examine her for injuries.

  “I will be in a minute.” She wrapped her hand around his erection and guided him back in.

  No hyst
erics. No complaints. A woman focused on the finish, and Lewis set out to make sure it was a grand finish indeed.

  Several hot, sweaty, fantastic minutes later, he and Scarlet both breathing heavy, still joined, she said, “I can’t wait for next girls’ night out.”

  He nuzzled up close to her ear. “You’re welcome.”

  She ran her fingernails lightly up and down his back. “Sorry I destroyed your closet.”

  He wasn’t. Not one bit. “You can make it up to me,” he offered.

  “Oh I can, can I?” She contracted her vaginal muscles and squeezed him. “Supposing I agree to make it up to you.” She squeezed him again. “Just how do you propose I go about it?”

  She wanted ideas? He had dozens of them. “Let’s move to my bed and I’ll show you.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ON SATURDAY MORNING Scarlet rushed down the hallway leading to Lewis’s condo and used the key Jessie had given her to unlock the door.

  Lewis sat at the island counter in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of navy cotton lounge pants, reading the newspaper. So much for getting back before he woke up.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she said, closing the door behind her.

  “How’s Joey?” he asked, walking over with his arms out to take the bag and carryout coffees in her hands.

  “Joey is sweet and precious as always.” She hung her pocket book over the back of a stool. “Another little preemie and her parents, however, are giving my staff a tough time, and I got caught up in it, one of the pitfalls of going in to visit Joey on my days off.” She washed her hands and dried them with a towel while Lewis set the table.

  “I’m usually the one to run out for breakfast in the morning,” he said, removing the lid on one of the coffees to sniff it.

  “The French vanilla one is marked with an F.” Men. She picked up the coffee with a big black F on it and handed it to him. “And I’m perfectly capable of getting our breakfast. We independent girls don’t rely on men to feed us.” She opened the bag and a heavenly smell wafted into the air. She had worked up a lumberjack of an appetite in the early morning hours. “Spinach, feta, and egg white on a whole wheat wrap for you.” She put the wrap on one plate. “Oatmeal and fresh fruit for me.” She set both on the other plate.

  Lewis pressed in close behind her, placed his hands on her hips, and lowered his mouth to her ear. “Stop,” he said quietly. Then he turned her to face him. “You’re not late. I’m not in a rush to get started on Jessie’s room. And I refuse to let one more minute in your presence pass without a proper good morning.”

  He set his soft, warm, inspiring lips to hers and all the stress of the last two hours dissipated. Instant relaxation. Except, she turned her head away, “We’re out of our little closet world. It’s afterwards.” Time for things to return to normal, if that was even possible after the night they’d shared, the effects of which still lingered in a delicious little full body hum of supreme satisfaction.

  “By my calculation we have twenty-four more hours.” He kissed her temple. “To do whatever we want as often as we want.” He kissed her cheek. “I don’t have to leave to pick up Jessie until tomorrow afternoon.” He kissed her lips and the reasons she shouldn’t be kissing him started to fade.

  All but one. Twenty-four more hours on the receiving end of the tender, considerate, affectionate side of his nature, and Scarlet feared, for her, there’d be no going back to a casual friendship between them.

  He deepened the kiss.

  So. Good. Arousal started to take over. No. She forced her head away, again, adding a push to his chest. “While you’re busy getting yourself all heated up, our breakfast is getting cold.”

  “Lucky for us I own a microwave.”

  She twisted away needing some space. “We have a lot to do today.” She pulled out a stool and sat down to eat her breakfast.

  On a sigh of what she interpreted as disappointment, Lewis did the same.

  “So what does your staff say about you showing up on your days off to visit with Joey?” he asked, then took a bite of his wrap.

  “They’re kind of used to seeing me.” She didn’t have much of a life outside of work. “If I don’t have anything going on, I stop by the hospital over the weekend to catch up on paperwork and check in on my weekend-only staffers.”

  “But now you’re going in specifically to spend time with Joey.”

  She blew on a spoonful of oatmeal. “Only a few people have commented.”

  “Like that nurse Linda?”

  “Yup.” Scarlet smiled. Linda may be a set in her ways nosey gossip, but she was one of the best and most reliable nurses on Scarlet’s team and over the years had become a good friend. “She’s voiced her concern that I’m getting too attached. If she didn’t derive such pleasure from sharing the secrets of others, I would have told her why.” She turned to Lewis. “What made you single out Linda?”

  “We met the day I visited the NICU. She basically warned me off. I got the feeling she doesn’t think I’m good enough for you, which is rather upsetting because I’m a good catch. Women want me.”

  After seeing and experiencing him in action, she understood why. “Obviously not the right women, or after all the sampling you’ve done, you’d have found one worthy of an exclusive commitment lasting longer than a month.”

  Lewis choked on something.

  Scarlet patted his back.

  His air flow restored, he responded, “Some men,” he glanced at her, “perfectly nice, hard-working, decent men just aren’t cut out to commit to one woman long term.”

  “Is that the speech you plan to give Jessie when some jerk of a boyfriend breaks her heart?” Scarlet speared the last strawberry in her fruit bowl and ate it. “Maybe something like, ‘Stop crying, honey. He’s a great guy. He’s just not cut out to commit to one woman long term.’” She looked up at him. “Does that sound as lame to your ears as it does to mine?”

  He pushed away his half eaten wrap. “It makes me sick to think about having to have that conversation, of Jessie ever dating someone like me.”

  His genuine emotion surprised her. “I’m sorry. I was out of line.” But saying he wasn’t cut out for a long term commitment was crap. If he found the right woman and was willing to put in the time and effort necessary to maintain a relationship, he had a great many qualities that’d make him an excellent boyfriend/fiancé/husband.

  “What would you say to Jessie?” he asked.

  Scarlet swiveled her chair in his direction. “I’d tell her if that loser couldn’t see how smart and special she was, if he didn’t appreciate all of her wonderful, caring qualities and didn’t value her enough to choose her above all the other women out there, then he didn’t deserve her.”

  Lewis stared at her with an odd expression. A little surprise around the eyebrows. A hint of a grimace around the mouth. A definite warmth, with a possible hint of longing, or was it affection, or more likely appreciation, in his eyes. Yes, it had to be appreciation, for her help with Jessie, for providing an outlet for him to relieve nine months of pent up sexual frustration, both of which she hadn’t minded at all.

  “Eat up, papa bear.” Scarlet reached for his plate and slid it back in front of him. “You have a couple of years before you need to worry about it, and we have a lot of work to do today.” She stood, cleared her plate, and tossed her garbage in the pullout bin. “I’ll meet you in the bedroom.” Hold on. That didn’t sound right. She turned to look at him over her shoulder. “That would be Jessie’s new bedroom.” In the interest of self-preservation, she would not be returning to Lewis’s bedroom, regardless of Jessie’s return date.

  Scarlet had changed into a pair of scrub pants she’d borrowed from the hospital and an old black tank she’d had in one of her bags and was on her knees removing one of the two outlet covers on the wall they’d be painting when she sensed Lewis’s presence behind her. Already, in such a short time together, her response to him had transformed. Softening. Weakening. Accepting
.

  And while her rational self knew he was only playing the part of seducer, she was quite effectively and thoroughly being seduced by his sweet words and loving touches. Mind and body. Heart and soul. If she wasn’t careful and did not finish up work on Jessie’s room and leave his condo soon, she would not escape this weekend without irreparable damage to her willpower where he was concerned…and to her heart.

  “So how did a self-professed poor little rich girl get so handy?” he asked.

  “I’d hardly call the ability to use a screwdriver handy.” She moved on to the next outlet.

  Lewis got to work taping at the seam of an abutting wall. “But you have to admit, it’s not a skill typical of rich girls.”

  “I’ve been on my own since I turned eighteen.” Since her birthday when she’d given her parents the ultimatum, ‘Tell me the truth about what happened to my daughter or you will never see or hear from me again.’ They’d seemed relieved to be rid of her, their stint as parents complete, the disruption to their lives over. “Dad paid my college tuition.” Probably to ensure her ability to obtain respectable employment suitable for bragging, as much as financial independence so she’d never darken their doorstep again. “I juggled a couple of jobs and took care of everything else.”

  She gathered up the outlet covers and screws, carried them to the closet and set them on top of a box. “Not much money left over to pay people to do things for me. So I learned to do them for myself.” She picked up the other roll of painter’s tape. “And you know what? I found I liked the feeling of accomplishment when I stood back to look at a room I’d painted or a discarded chair I’d cleaned up and reupholstered or a light fixture I’d replaced. And I still do.” She carried the stepladder over to the wall so she could work up by the ceiling, positioned it where she wanted it and climbed to the top step.

  She’d only applied about six inches of tape when Lewis clamped his hands around her waist. She stopped and tilted her head down. “Care to explain this sudden tactile display?”

  He looked up innocently. “I figured if I told you to get down and let me do the ceiling you’d probably go off telling me you’re more than capable of standing on top of a ladder and doing it yourself.”