by Fiona Lowe
He gave himself up to the sensory overload, soaking up her touch, savouring the fresh fruity smell of her hair as it caressed his skin, watching the expressions of wonder cross her face as she undid each button. He’d imagined this moment for so long, but reality far exceeded expectation.
Her tongue wrought havoc, making the touch of her fingers feel chaste. The final button popped and her hands raced all over his skin.
Heat on heat.
Sensation building on sensation, tingling through every part of him.
For a brief moment her fingers paused. She gazed down at him, her eyes wide and clear. Desire, need and power interplayed. He knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
He moved like a panther stalking prey, rolling her over in one quick movement, laughing at the indignation on her beautiful face.
‘Hey, I hadn’t finished.’ She pursed her lips in mock annoyance. ‘There was a belt that followed on from the buttons.’
‘If those fingers were planning an assault down there, then this might all be over mighty quick.’
‘Is that right? Where’s your self-control?’ Her rich, teasing laugh surrounded him.
His left hand, which rested against her back, flicked open her bra hooks. His right hand swooped under her T-shirt and cupped her breast, his thumb gently grazing her nipple, which quickly hardened.
A shocked gasp left her lips.
He raised his brows in mock surprise. ‘Where’s your self-control?’
‘You’re not playing fair.’
He grinned. ‘Sweetie, I play to please.’ He pulled the T-shirt over her head and pulled the bra away, dropping it onto the floor.
Bending his head, he captured her breast in his mouth, his tongue caressing and sucking. He felt her shudder beneath him. The knowledge he could make her react like this expanded inside him, filling the spaces of loneliness he hadn’t known he had.
Her hands played all over his back, her touch alternating between feather-like caresses and frantic clutching, depending on what his mouth was doing to her breast.
Her voice, heavy with need, broke the heat-filled silence. ‘Too many clothes.’
He popped the top button on her jeans and pulled them down. His hands outlining the sweet curve of her bottom which he’d come to explore. He dumped the jeans next to the bra.
His stunned gaze zeroed in on a tiny triangle of cream lace.
Meg giggled. ‘Your look is priceless. You expected practical cotton undies, didn’t you?’ A sexy smile played around her lips. ‘Country girls are full of surprises.’
‘I’m learning that.’ His fingers stroked the edge of the lace, slowly making their way underneath to the treasure it hid.
He stroked her, his fingers wet with her need.
She bucked toward him, all traces of the teasing look gone. She threw her head back, her eyes wide with wanting, and a moan of pleasure rent the air.
He couldn’t believe it was possible to harden any more than he had, but he did. Excitement that he could do this to her, bring her this much pleasure, kept him in control. Barely.
He wanted to enter her, wanted to feel her around him, but this was her moment. He kept stroking, his gaze fixed on her, watching her experience what she so deserved.
She shuddered against him as waves of sensation built and built to fever pitch. She wanted to feel him inside her, wanted to grip him tightly. ‘Will.’
‘Shush, this one’s for you.’ His gaze never left hers.
His fingers never let up their delicious stroking, his kisses trailed sweetness against her breasts, and she gave in to the pleasure. The sweet explosions rolled through her in waves and her lips cried out his name.
She opened her eyes to see his grinning face.
‘You’re good.’
‘I know.’
She laughed. He’d just given her the best orgasm she’d ever known, and he knew it. ‘I need to return the favour.’ Her hands reached for his pants.
He groaned. ‘I’ll take them off.’ He removed them quickly, and knelt before her, hard and splendid.
She ached to feel him, all of him. She reached out her hand.
He groaned again. ‘I’m running out of self-control here.’
Guilt pierced her. He’d been so selfless for her. She kissed him hard, feeling him against her belly, and pushed at his arms.
He fell back onto the bed and she moved across him, applying the condom, and then felt him enter her, filling her with himself, and with his essence. She took him and held him, and moved against him again and again, building the pressure.
Lights danced in her head, the vortex of pleasure whirling her and Will together higher and higher until they exploded together in a moment of extreme bliss.
As the cascades of sensation poured through her she savoured the moment, wishing it could last for ever.
CHAPTER NINE
THE machines of Intensive Care beeped and pinged and Meg rested her head on the outside of Brodie’s humidicrib. Will had suggested they pop in and visit him before they headed back to Laurelton.
For someone who was a locum, he really seemed to have an amazing capacity to care for her town. What if he really loved Laurelton? What if he decided to stay?
Get real. He belongs in Melbourne, he has a life there. She breathed out, blowing away the crazy and unrealistic thought, focusing on Brodie. ‘At least he’s no longer being nursed on the open cot.’
Will’s penetrating gaze met hers. ‘It’s a good sign. It’s been a rough couple of weeks for Sally.’
‘In more ways than one.’ She felt the reassuring pressure of Will’s arm tighten around her as a glimmer of her old pain of infertility threatened to rise. It stalled at his thoughtfulness.
‘Remember you’re a totally gorgeous woman.’ The words spoken softly were intended to soothe.
Memories of their lovemaking swamped her. He’d been the most amazing lover—kind, considerate, inventive. She smiled at what he could do with his mouth.
The weekend had whizzed past in a blur of lovemaking, with long conversations while cuddled up in the spa, and in glorious, peaceful sleep in Will’s comforting arms.
She couldn’t believe how well she’d slept. Since the plane crash she’d had insomnia, but even before then there had been many nights when she’d tossed and turned more than she’d slept. She was very familiar with three a.m., lying awake worrying about the bank repayments, about a patient whose condition concerned her, about the unexpected direction of her life.
Will’s presence filled her with a peace she’d never known. A peace that soothed and scared her.
Will stepped away and Meg looked up.
An exhausted-looking Sally walked toward them, two paces in front of her husband, Mark, who looked completely shattered. ‘Thanks for visiting us and staying with Brodie while we talked to the specialist.’
Will’s hazel eyes scanned Sally’s face. ‘Do you understand everything he said?’
Sally nodded. ‘Brodie’s over the worst. We just have to wait and see—only time will tell about his eyesight.’
Meg reached out and hugged the woman. ‘Let’s hope Brodie’s back in Laurelton in a couple of weeks.’
Mark spoke gruffly. ‘Thanks for being in Laurelton, Dr Cameron.’
Will shook his hand. ‘I was glad to help.’
‘Will you still be there when Brodie comes home?’ Sally spoke hopefully.
Meg glanced at Will, whose face had suddenly become impassive.
He seemed to hesitate. ‘No, I’ll be back in Melbourne then.’
Remember, you and Will being together is fantasy. Meg dragged in a deep breath. She knew her time with him was temporary. It had to be, but she planned to hold off the real world for as long as possible and savour every single minute.
‘Are you just about ready to go?’ Will stood in the doorway of Meg’s office.
‘Hometime already?’
She put down her pen, glanced up at him and stretched, her shirt pulling
tightly across her chest, outlining the round curves of her breasts, which he knew intimately.
Blood shot to his groin. She was so totally delectable. It was hard work keeping his hands off her. But he had little choice during working hours when the clinic was full of patients.
However, they’d all gone home now and he’d locked the front door. And the back. ‘Yep, it’s almost six and you’ve been here since eight.’ He walked around behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders, massaging the tension away.
She put her hand on top of his and tilted her head back, looking up at him, her smile enticing.
He dropped a kiss onto her forehead.
She swivelled on her chair and captured his head with her hands, pressing her soft lips against his. Her tongue nibbled at his bottom lip, seeking entry to his mouth.
He groaned. He needed to touch her, feel her. He pulled her out of the chair and into his arms, holding her tightly against him, loving the way her body curved against his.
He opened his mouth, blending his heat with hers, marvelling at how her enthusiasm and passion for life crossed over into their lovemaking.
The pressure of her kiss lessened and she pulled back, her breathing fast and hard, her pupils large black discs.
Disappointment slugged him at the brevity of the kiss.
She gave him a wry smile. ‘You’ve forgotten, haven’t you?’
As her finger trailed down his jaw, cascades of tingling sensations exploded inside him, making him forget everything.
She continued. ‘I’m working tonight, moderating the “Give up Smoking” group. They’ll be arriving pretty soon.’
Frustration threaded through him. He’d been planning a secret seduction. Since coming back from Melbourne they hadn’t had a lot of alone time. He’d had to be content with a stolen kiss here and there. Not that he didn’t enjoy those—he just wanted a lot more.
And he only had a week left in Laurelton.
Staying at Big Hill Farm dampened any plans of a replication of the passion they’d shared in Melbourne. As much as he liked Eleanor, having Meg’s mother in the house wasn’t conducive to lovemaking. Still, he looked forward to each evening after Eleanor had gone to bed and he and Meg cuddled on the couch and talked. He’d never met anyone he could talk to quite the way he could talk to Meg. Her quick wit and sense of humour meant rapid repartee, and yet he could still have deep and serious discussions with her about all sorts of things.
Except about Camerons and Dad.
‘Will?’
Concentrating on Meg’s voice drove the nagging thought out of his head. ‘Sorry.’ He breathed out. ‘So, you’re working.’
She smiled at his wistful tone. ‘We both know Melbourne was make-believe. I’ll be home around eight. Mum’s expecting you for dinner.’ Her lips grazed his in a fleeting kiss as a pounding sounded on the clinic door. ‘Open that on your way out, please.’
He’d been organised and despatched. And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
Jet bounded out to meet him as he parked the car. He loved dogs, but inner-city living wasn’t dog friendly. He enjoyed the convenience of his serviced apartment at the Langtree but maybe he should look for something else. Something with a courtyard.
Why? Are you thinking Meg might like that?
The thought rocked him. He and Meg were just a temporary thing, part of getting through the trauma of surviving a near-death experience. We both know Melbourne was make-believe. Both of them had said they were not in the market for a relationship. His life was in Melbourne. She belonged in the bush, gorgeous and free.
Except she wasn’t free. She wore the pain of her childlessness in her eyes every day. He saw it. He wished he could change that. Give her back her dreams.
But he couldn’t, and both of them needed to get back onto the paths of their lives, the ones they had been treading before the crash. His time in Laurelton was almost over.
He pulled open the wire door, walked into the back porch and put his bag down on the boot box. ‘Hi, Eleanor,’ he called out loudly, to let her know he was home.
He filled Jet’s bowl with food, ruffled the fur on her head and stepped into the kitchen. Usually, Eleanor was cooking dinner or sitting reading at the table. The kitchen lacked the signs of food preparation. He looked out the window. The chooks were still roaming free, which was unusual at this time of night. A prickle of unease made him shiver. Perhaps she was resting.
‘Eleanor.’ He walked down the hall, his footsteps sounding loud on the Baltic pine boards. ‘Are you here?’ He checked the lounge room. The TV was on but there was no sign of Eleanor.
He went back to the table and checked for a note. Nothing. He marched back down the hall and knocked on her bedroom door. No reply. He opened the door. ‘Eleanor?’ He walked in but the room was empty.
Unease turned into full-blown concern. He started opening guest rooms, working through the five rooms systematically, including his own. All were made up in anticipation of occupancy but Eleanor wasn’t in any of them.
Meg’s room.
He hammered on the door. ‘Eleanor?’ He pushed it open.
He walked around the bed. She lay on the floor, her crutches beside her and her right leg splayed out at a strange angle.
He dropped to his knees, worried about her conscious state. ‘Hell, Eleanor.’ He jiggled her shoulder.
Her eyes fluttered open, dark in her pale face. Her dry lips looked about to crack. ‘Will, thank goodness. I knew Meg was working late…’
‘What happened?’ His hand reached for her wrist to check her pulse.
‘I fell this morning. I came in here, looking for a book, and I used the stepladder to get it off the top shelf. I lost my balance and I think my leg is broken.’ Her eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion and pain etched on her face.
Sympathy and concern sat heavy in his stomach. ‘I’ll be right back. I’ll just grab my bag.’
As he ran down the corridor he used his mobile phone and rang for an ambulance. He’d do a full examination in a minute but it didn’t take a medical degree to see either the leg or hip was broken.
He grabbed his bag and headed back to the room. ‘I’m going to put an IV in first, Eleanor, because I’m worried about dehydration. Do you have any cardiac problems?’ He wrapped a tourniquet around her upper arm.
‘I’m on blood-pressure medication.’
He nodded, acknowledging her answer, and swabbed her forearm. ‘This will hurt a bit as I slide the needle in.’
She bit her lip and breathed out deeply.
The cannula slid in, and he quickly connected a normal saline drip, hanging the bag on Meg’s coatstand.
He picked up her wrist to check her pulse again. ‘What’s the pain like?’
‘Actually, it’s not sharp, more like a dull ache in my groin.’
‘I can give you something for it.’ He laid her hand gently on her stomach, and then pulled a pillow off the bed to put under her head.
‘I’ll see how I go.’ She spoke the words firmly.
‘You don’t have to be stoic, Eleanor. It might hurt while I examine you and it will definitely hurt when I strap your legs together.’
‘If it gets too much, I’ll let you know—deal?’
He heard the same intonation in her voice as Meg’s. The suck-it-down-and-deal-with-it approach to life. ‘Deal.’
He examined the leg and her hip. ‘Does it hurt here?’ He pressed on the upper thigh.
She flinched. ‘Yes.’
‘Well, an X-ray is the only conclusive way to diagnose but I think you’ve fractured your neck of femur—your hip. So it’s hospital, surgery and rehab, I’m afraid.’
She let out a long, shuddering sigh. ‘Well, I might get a bit of rest, I suppose.’ She gave him a tired smile.
He studied the deep lines on her face that life had placed there. She’d coped with the death of her husband and a chronic illness. ‘Are you feeling weary, Eleanor?’
Her gaze hovered
on his face for a moment and indecision swam in her eyes. She took in a breath. ‘I am. Just lately, running the B&B has got hard. I’ve kept going for John’s memory and for Meg. She loves the farm and so do I, but…’
He’d often wondered how she coped with her MS and working so hard. ‘But you fancy something less hard going?’
She nodded. ‘I’ve loved the life I’ve had here but each month it gets harder to meet the mortgage. With the snow season almost over, things are too tight. As it is, Meg’s working seven days a week.’
He rested back on his heels. ‘It doesn’t seem to bother her, working the hours she does.’
Eleanor fixed him with a look only a mother could give. ‘But it’s not the life she should have. I know she always thought she’d raise a family in this house, like her father and I did, but that isn’t going to happen and we have to accept it.’ She sighed. ‘I’ve been thinking about selling the farm and moving into town. It gets lonely out here and I’ve got friends in town.’
Will checked the flow of the IV, disquiet edging in. ‘Does Meg know how you feel?’
An anxious expression crossed her face. ‘No.’
He spoke carefully. ‘Don’t you think you should tell her?’
Her face crumpled. ‘She’s had enough heartache in the last couple of years.’
Will gave her a direct gaze. ‘She loves you. She’ll understand.’
Eleanor put her hand on his sleeve. ‘This farm is so much a part of her. She’s lost one dream already. I don’t want to have to tell her she’s lost another one.’
The love in her eyes for her daughter shone brightly yet he knew deep down that protecting Meg like this was not the solution to this problem.
He sighed at the complicated situations families got themselves into. ‘I’m going to splint your leg now.’ He started to wrap her legs together from the knees to the upper thigh, rolling the crêpe bandages carefully around her legs, trying not to move them too much.
She stiffened and flinched.
He paused. ‘Are you doing OK?’
‘If you’ve nearly finished, I am.’
He taped the end of the bandage in place. ‘The road to Winston is pretty bumpy, and you don’t need those corrugations vibrating through the fracture. I’ll give you some pethidine and you can hopefully sleep all the way there.’
