by Jan Meredith
Stick to the plan—no romance, no relationship, no complications.
Beth forced back the sorrow pinching her heart. She would not waste her last few hours with this wonderful man grieving for tomorrow’s loss. That would come soon enough. So, she would take what she could, right here, right now…and then she would let him go.
“What are you looking at?” She reached for the magazine, but he grinned and held it just out of reach, forcing her to stretch across him to get it. He stole a quick kiss before letting it go and falling back on the pillow, folding his arms behind his head.
Beth tossed the publication onto the bedside table and snagged the bottle of wine and glasses sitting there. She filled the glasses, handed one to Gabe, and sipped from her own as she considered him over the rim. He was so very deliciously…she searched for a word that would accurately describe the man grinning lazily up at her, and the only one that came to mind was, masculine.
When she had drained her glass, she stretched across his legs to set it and the bottle back on the nightstand. She smiled at his hum of appreciation and the slide of his hand over her bare ass where the nightshirt she had pulled on had ridden up. When she felt his cock stir against her hip beneath the sheet, she hummed a little herself.
Straightening, widening her knees—purely for the sake of balance, of course—she crossed her arms at the hem and pulled the nightshirt up and off, letting it catch under her breasts and giving it a smart tug that caused them to bounce enticingly. Gabe’s hum became a low groan. The sheet tented impressively between his legs.
Licking her lips, she reached down, tugged the sheet aside, and wrapped her fingers around Gabe’s erection, marveling when it thickened and elongated in her hand. She slanted her gaze up his torso, watched him tuck his chin, lower his head, his eyes became heavy-lidded as he anticipated her next move. With her eyes steady on his, she dipped her head and dragged her tongue up the length of his shaft, from root to tip. His hips jerked. The forgotten glass wobbled in his hand, threatening to spill the contents on the sheets.
“Did I tell you what my friend foresaw in my future for the weekend?” Beth asked as she let go of his cock and reached for his wine.
His breath came out slow and ragged. “No, but I’m very interested in finding out.” His palm drifted over her ass and gave her an encouraging squeeze.
His cock lay hard against his belly. She reached down, ran her thumb along the pulsing vein. “Hmm, so I see.” His foot slipped down the sheets and his knee fell to the side, an open invitation to do as she pleased. Her eyes raked over him hungrily. She was about to be very, very pleased, and so was he.
Beth tipped her head back, drained the glass, and then handed it to Gabe. His hand shook as he blindly set it back on the table, never taking his eyes off her. She leaned forward, rested her hands on his thighs and let the wine trickle from her mouth, over the head of his cock and down the shaft.
His hands fisted in the sheets.
Shifting, moving over his belly, her hair fell across his hips as she dribbled the remainder of the wine in his navel, and then sipped it back out, licking the tiny divot clean. The blunt tip of his erection nudged her cheek as if begging for a lick. With a slight turn of her head, she licked a drop of precum from the tip of his cock. His head shot up from the pillow, tightening the ridges of his abdomen.
“Beth…” It could have been a plea, or maybe a warning, but either way, the outcome was the same. He liked having her mouth on him, and she liked putting it there.
“She said I would meet a tall, ripped, and totally lick-o-licious stranger who would fulfill my deepest desires.” She sat back on her heels, planted her fists on her hips, and looked him over from head to toe. “She was right, so far.”
His brows lifted and he gave her a cocky grin. “Lick-o-licious, huh?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She nodded. “I thought it sounded ridiculous at the time, but now…” She feathered her fingers over his abdomen, enjoying the way the taut muscles quivered at her touch. “And that I would lick wine out of his belly button…a perfect innie.” She gave his navel another flick of her tongue, causing the firm ridges to jump again.
“What else did she predict?” His hands abandoned the sheets, moved through her hair. He dragged it over his skin, and then held it back with one hand while the other smoothed over her back, down her ass again.
She took him in her hand, rubbed her cheek against his shaft like a cat leaning into a caress. “She also predicted that I would lick the wine off of his…” She turned her head, flicked out her tongue and gave the head of his cock a firm lick. “…perfect outie.” And she proceeded to do just that. Licking, nibbling, bathing his erection with her tongue.
His head burrowed into the pillow, then lifted up again to watch while she licked him clean of the wine. He drove his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp.
“What’s her name?” His hips jutted upward, a plea for more.
“Who?”
“The psychic I owe my left nut to.”
“This nut?” Reaching between Gabe’s splayed legs, Beth cupped his testicles, rolled them in her palm. The heavy muscles of his thighs tensed. “Her name is Connie,” she said absently, playing with his balls with one hand while the other moved up and down the length of his shaft.
“Just out of curiosity, Connie didn’t happen to mention that you might open that lovely mouth and…yes!”
She swallowed him, captured the velvety head between her tongue and the roof of her mouth and sucked the last residue of wine from him. One hand clamped over her skull gently worked her mouth over his cock, while the other slid down her spine, through the valley of her buttocks and plunged into the slick folds of her sex. She tilted her hips and felt his fingers glide deeper into her as her mouth moved down his shaft.
“Beth…decide…quickly…” he hissed. His hips thrust up, pushed deeper into her throat.
She could taste the salty precum that seeped from him, swallowed it greedily, but pulled back before he came. She turned, felt his fingers slip from her as she threw her leg over his hips and straddled him, trapping his shaft between her slit and his belly.
“Inside me, I want to feel you come inside me.” One last time.
She braced her hands on his heaving chest as his closed around her waist and lifted her up.
“Put me in,” he commanded hoarsely. Muscles bunched in his arms, straining as he held her above him. She grasped his cock, moaning when it slid over her clit then farther back to her aching entrance.
She took all of him, quickly, roughly. She threw her head back, hair cascading down, and let the greed consume her, glorying in the magnitude of her own desire even as tears burned the backs of her eyelids, and she wished the night would never end.
Chapter Ten
Gabe stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. Room service would be here with their breakfast shortly and he would have to wake her up. But not yet. First, he just wanted to look at her.
She was a vision, lying there on her side, dark hair fanned out on the pillow, skin flushed from their last bout of sex. The sex had been great, smoking hot, but more than that, he had enjoyed her—her warmth, her sense of humor, the strength and determination it had taken for her to overcome her past. He wanted to howl at the suffering she’d undergone at her husband’s hands, and the years she’d buried her passionate nature because of it. At the same time, he wanted to shout to the universe, thank you for letting me find her, to be the one to give it back to her. What would she do with that newly awakened passion now? Who would be the lucky man who made her come the next time?
Me.
The need to claim rose up and caught him in a chokehold.
Their one night together had turned into something more for him, something he wasn’t ready to let go of.
He dropped to the edge of the bed, slid his hand beneath the sheet and over the swell of her hip. Firm muscles and silken skin moved into a lazy stretch worthy of a we
ll-fed tigress. Her breasts lifted on an intake of breath, her lids fluttered open, and eyes misty with sleep looked up at him. She smiled and the bottom fell right out of Gabe’s stomach. He’d never felt so physically connected to a woman since Rita.
Rita. Gabe scrubbed his hand over his face and huffed out a breath. He’d talked to her about his late wife, something he’d never done with another woman. Talked? Hell, he’d bared his soul to her. She had listened without offering judgment or sympathy. Then she had prodded him into thinking, not like a husband mired in grief and guilt, but as a physician, gathering facts, analyzing the cause and effect and forming the accurate diagnosis. He’d heard it before, from his family and colleagues, but something about the way Beth walked him through it opened his eyes and let him see it for what it truly was. There were no words to describe the freedom of guilt lifting from his shoulders—and then she’d held him.
At some point during the night, his priorities had shifted. One night with Beth wasn’t going to be enough. He wanted more—to get to know her, show her that she was more than a one night stand or an emotional crutch to help him get past his guilt over Rita. He wanted to date her, find out what she liked to eat, movies she liked to watch. A relationship? Maybe. He needed time to find out.
Her arms came up, circled his neck and pulled him down. The kiss rocked him right down to his toes.
“Good morning,” she purred.
Gabe cupped his hand around Beth’s neck and brought her back up. One kiss wasn’t going to do it.
“I want to see you again,” he murmured, bypassing the morning greeting for yet another taste of her. Something flickered in her eyes. Surprise? Hope? Joy? Then her lashes came down and shuttered them, blocking her feelings. Blocking him. She pulled back, put some space between them. It was only a few inches, but it may as well have been a mile.
“That would complicate things.”
His hand slid down her arm, a small connection to keep her from slipping further away. “Seeing each other again doesn’t have to be complicated.”
“But, it would, and we agreed—one night…”
“Fuck the agreement. I’ve changed my mind. I want more.” Frustration boiled just under the skin. Restless fingers plowed through his hair. He had to do something, say something to change her mind, but first, he had to get himself under control. Gabe banked his emotions and reached for the calm he employed when fighting for a patient’s life. Why did he suddenly feel as if he were fighting for his? “I’m just saying we should give this a shot, see where it takes us. There’s a connection between us, you felt it as well as I did.”
“Yes.”
“Then, let’s do this.”
She shook her head. “We went into this eyes wide open, knew we would go our separate ways when it was done. This”—she indicated the bed—“was a chance encounter, unplanned and uncomplicated. As I said, I’ve never done anything like this before, and I don’t intend for it to ever happen again, and I have no regrets. It was wonderful. You were wonderful. You’ve given me so much more than I can ever return, but there’s something inside of me that I have to let go of before I can commit to a relationship.” She held up a hand, effectively cutting down his next argument. “Or even the possibility of one, and you deserve so much more than I’m capable of giving now.”
Deserve. There was that word again. Funny she should bring it up now just when he was beginning to think he was worthy of trying again. Trying with her. Just goes to show you where thinking will get you. “It was amazing between us, and I think it can be better.”
Her blue eyes flew to his, wide and vulnerable, and then she glanced away. “It was good with Jamie at first and look how that turned out.”
It was as if something finally clicked in his brain. Trust—hers had been shattered. He wasn’t the man who’d broken that fragile bond, but he was the man who would have to earn it back. The thought barely crossed his mind before another followed—it wasn’t him she was rejecting, but he was the man she was turning away.
The unfairness of it drove his anger up. He could handle the anger, welcomed it even. It was mild compared to the other emotion roiling through him that threatened to lay him low. That she would compare him to the man who had abused her, judge and sentence him for a crime imposed on her by another man wounded him to the bone.
“I’m not him, Beth. I would never intentionally cause you harm.” If he felt some small token of satisfaction at the shame that lit her lovely face, then so be it.
Gabe rose from the bed and dressed. She sat cross-legged, her fingers plucking at the sheet pulled over her breasts. Her eyes followed him as he crossed to her, bent down, and took her chin in his hand. He took her mouth again, roughly at first, surprised at how badly he wanted, needed that one last taste of her. He lingered there, rested his forehead against hers. “Thank you for last night—for everything.”
Her eyes filled. “Thank you.”
He took a breath, blew it out. “So, there’s nothing I can say to change your mind?”
Beth’s eyes drifted shut. A small, shaky breath passed her lips. For a moment Gabe thought, hoped, she was having second thoughts, but then she looked up and shook her head. “No.”
Seconds ticked by, then he nodded, turned from the bed, from her, and walked to the desk. Beth’s paperwork lay there, waiting for her attention. He reached down, ran his finger over the letterhead on the staffing schedule, and glanced at the résumés as bits of their earlier conversation played back in his head.
“This is my cell.” He picked up the pen lying beside her laptop, scribbled the number on a Post-it note and stuck it to her laptop. “If you change your mind.” He went to the door, turned the knob, and glanced over his shoulder. “Beth…change your mind.”
The door closed behind him with a quiet click. The weight of a new burden settled across Gabe’s shoulders as he made his way down the corridor to the elevator. He knew without a doubt he was walking away from the best thing that had happened to him in a long time, and he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life. Knowing it was irrelevant—he’d done all he could. It was up to Beth now.
…
Clutching the sheet to her chest, Beth watched Gabe walk out the door. The soft snick as it closed behind him echoed in the room like a cannon blast. The fragile hold she’d managed to maintain on her control slipped and she fell back on the pillows, staring up at the ceiling as Gabe’s scent rose from the bed and surrounded her.
What have I done?
The right thing—the only thing I could do.
Swallowing the lump that formed in her throat, Beth rolled onto her side. She pulled the covers around her and breathed in his scent, wrapping herself in a cocoon of uncertainty. She had been close, so very close, to saying yes, but she needed time. It was all so new, so fresh, too soon after their night together, while her defenses were down and her body thrummed from his loving, to commit to seeing him again. She needed some distance to gather her thoughts, get back on an even keel.
She had hurt him with that comment about Jamie. She hadn’t meant it to be a comparison, but the flicker of anguish in Gabe’s eyes…she may as well have dealt him a physical blow. How could she have caused such a gentle man pain? That wasn’t supposed to happen. One night, then go their separate ways—that had been the plan.
Proof enough that she had nothing to give.
Will I ever be able to give myself completely to any man?
You’ll never know unless you try, the annoying voice of reason taunted.
A knock sounded at the door and a faceless voice called out, “Room service!” Beth’s stomach roiled at the thought of eating. She let him knock again and then heard him walk away. Maybe someone would stop him, take it to their room and enjoy it. She lay there, in the drowsy warmth of the bed she had shared with Gabe, and clutched his pillow to her chest. Despite the fact that the sheets still held the warmth of his body, a cold shiver spread through her and she felt an extraordinary void at his absence. Lon
eliness pulled at her like a steel weight.
If she had done the right thing, why did she feel like she’d just let the most unexpectedly magical opportunity slip through her fingers?
Chapter Eleven
“So, how was the trip to Lexington?” Connie snapped the lid on a plastic container of leftover sausage biscuits and set it on top of the microwave in the employee’s break room.
Beth wasn’t above bribing the staff with food to get them to attend monthly departmental meetings. It was a sure way of baiting night shift to linger, and day shift to come in early. Buffalo wings and loaded potato skins were on order to ensure a good turnout for the meeting at shift change this evening.
She gathered the leftover handouts from the morning staff meeting, tapped them smartly on the table and slid them into a folder. Although two weeks had passed since her trip to Lexington, today was the first time she’d seen Connie for more than a few moments at a time. She’d known Connie would ask, had thought about what she’d tell her and what she wouldn’t. Whatever she divulged, she only wanted to say it once, and then tuck the memories of that weekend away forever. Thinking about it only made her want things she couldn’t have, and she’d done little else but think about Gabe and their night together.
“The wedding was beautiful. Drew captured some great shots. He even got some of us doing CPR on one of the wedding guests. He sent some of them to my phone.” Beth took her cell from her pocket and handed it to Connie.
“You’re kidding me. You just can’t get away from the job, no matter what,” Connie complained. She pulled up the photos and flipped through the screens. “That’s the thing with being a nurse. If you were a grocer and one of the caterers shouted, Hey, I’m out of bread, you wouldn’t just jump up and start looking around for bread, would you? But no, be a nurse and see someone lose consciousness and you automatically fall on the guy’s chest and start pounding…hello.”
“What?”
