Ultimate Heroes Collection

by Various Authors

‘I didn’t feel it tonight. When I saw Lois … It’s the first time I’ve had to face anything like this. I know the drill, but when I did my ED rotation I was lucky: I didn’t get any cases like this. Fights, yes. But not a r—’ She dragged in a breath, as if unwilling to say the word. ‘I thought I was over it all. It was so long ago now.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. Something like this will always bring it back.’ He stroked her hair. ‘I hate telling children that their father didn’t wake up from the operation.’

  She made the connection instantly. ‘You lost your dad?’

  Charlie nodded. ‘We were out on the estate. Not doing anything special, just walking. He collapsed and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t have a clue about first aid. The last time I’d done anything was in the Cub Scouts for my first-aid badge, and I couldn’t even remember how to put my father in the recovery position. I ran to the house and called an ambulance—we didn’t have mobile phones back then—but he died about five minutes after I got back to his side. He was dead before the ambulance even got there.’ He drew in a deep breath. ‘They said it was a massive heart attack. There was nothing anyone could have done to save him.’

  ‘How old were you?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘Sixteen. It was the summer after I’d taken my O-levels. I was going be a lawyer—but it made me think about what I was doing. What I really wanted to do. And I wanted to stop someone else going through what my family went through that summer. I decided to be a doctor. So I rang my school and changed my A-level courses.’ He smiled grimly. ‘My mother wasn’t pleased, because I was supposed to join the family firm. We had row after row about it. Especially when I told her I wasn’t planning to practise in Harley Street, that I was going to work in the National Health Service. But Seb and Vicky backed me up. They wanted to be doctors, too.’

  ‘Following in your footsteps?’

  He shook his head. ‘Vicky always wanted to be a doctor, right from when she was small. When our mother made her go to ballet lessons, Vicky took a pair of scissors to her tutu and ballet shoes. She threatened to cut all her hair off if anyone made her go back again.’ He smiled at the memory of a very determined five-year-old. ‘Though Mother didn’t learn and tried to send her to a finishing school instead of letting her do the A-levels she wanted. Vicky got herself expelled in the first week, came home and talked the local college into letting her start the A-level courses late. She got the best grades in the country and an unconditional offer to study medicine in London. Seb …’ His smile faded. ‘Well, Seb’s just a law unto himself. I love him dearly, but there are times when I could murder him.’

  ‘He’s that difficult?’

  ‘Trust me, you don’t want to know,’ Charlie said feelingly.

  ‘Why did you choose plastic surgery?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘I was going to be a cardiologist,’ Charlie said. ‘Like my father. But I did a surgical rotation and I discovered how much I liked surgery. Plastics is even better—because you make a real difference to people’s lives. They’ve been hurt, but you can patch them up, make them look good as new. Make their body work the way it used to before the accident.’ He paused. ‘What about you? Why surgery?’

  ‘I used to do a lot of jigsaws when I was a kid. I liked putting things together and fixing them.’ Sophie shrugged. ‘I wanted to fix people, too. Mum suggested becoming a nurse, but I knew early on I wanted to be a surgeon. I like general surgery. You get to do a bit of everything.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He stroked her hair again. ‘I’m sorry you had to go through this tonight.’

  ‘I had to face it some time.’

  ‘But I’m glad I was there, too,’ he said softly.

  She simply looked at him, those beautiful brown eyes filling with tears. ‘Me, too,’ she said hoarsely.

  One tear spilled down her cheek, and he wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. And then, unable to help himself, he kissed away the smear of moisture. Just a gentle brush of his lips—but, Lord, her skin was soft. So sweet and soft. And he wanted more.

  He kissed the tip of her nose. Just once.

  And then she tipped her head back slightly. Offering her mouth.

  Hell, hell, hell. She’d just told him about how her fellow students had forced themselves on her, nearly raped her. Something she’d told almost nobody else, from the sound of things. She was crying, for God’s sake. And what was he doing? Coming on to her. Kissing her.

  He was disgusted with himself. He should be comforting her, not trying to seduce her.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered against her cheek, holding her close. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  And then her lips were against his ear. ‘I’m not. Make me forget them, Charlie. Make me forget tonight.’

  Was she asking him to …?

  And then her mouth found his, and the blood drained straight out of his head.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THIS was all wrong—they really weren’t supposed to be doing this. And then Charlie stopped thinking as Sophie’s fingers caressed the back of his neck. She nibbled at his lower lip, and he opened his mouth with a sigh, letting her deepen the kiss.

  He needed this. He really needed this. And so, he thought, did she. To hell with the real world. Right here, right now, it was just the two of them. And they’d make each other forget all their worries.

  He took the clip from her hair and dropped it on the table, then loosened her hair so it fell over her shoulders. ‘I could play with your hair all night,’ he murmured. ‘It’s so soft.’ He couldn’t resist wrapping it round his hands. Though what he really wanted was to see her hair spread over his pillow, framing her in gold as he eased into her.

  She undid his tie; he let her pull the silk from his collar and drop it on the table. Then his heart went into overdrive as she undid the top button of his shirt—and continued working her way downwards.

  ‘I wondered,’ she said, tugging the soft cotton from the waistband of his dark suit trousers.

  ‘What?’ He rubbed the tip of his nose against hers.

  ‘If you worked out. But this is proper muscle, not gym-gorilla stuff.’

  He smiled. So she’d been imagining him in the gym, had she? ‘I don’t lift weights, but I run most days,’ he said. ‘On a treadmill.’ So he could get his endorphin fix in peace, not harassed by the paparazzi wanting a snap of the baron looking all hot and bothered.

  Though right now he was definitely hot and bothered. For a very different reason.

  She ran her fingers over his pecs, smoothing over the light sprinkling of dark hair. ‘Mmm.’

  He ran the tip of his tongue over his lower lip. ‘Hey. What’s sauce for the goose.’

  She tilted her head back and gave him the wickedest look he’d ever seen. ‘Yes?’

  ‘My turn. I’d like to see you, Sophie,’ he said huskily. ‘Touch you. May I?’

  She held his gaze for a long, long moment. He could see desire blurring with fear, and gently stroked her cheek. ‘Sophie. I promise I won’t hurt you. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. I’ll stop if you ask me to. And I always keep my word.’

  He kept himself in check, although his whole body was almost humming with a desperate need to touch her. No way would he do anything without her explicit permission.

  Finally, she nodded—such a tiny movement he could barely see it. ‘Yes.’ Her voice rasped. Why? Because she was scared? Because she wanted him? A mixture of the two?

  I’m going to make this good for you, he promised her silently. I’m going to make you forget the memories that hurt you so much again tonight.

  Slowly, carefully, he undid the top button of her shirt. Brushed her skin with the backs of his fingers. ‘So soft,’ he said. ‘Like velvet.’ He traced the curve of her collarbones, then slowly undid another button. And another.

  When her shirt was completely open, he sucked in his breath, ‘God, you’re beautiful, Sophie. And I want you. Very, very much.’ He traced a necklace of kisses around her throat and she slid he
r fingers back into his hair, urging him on. He licked the sensitive spot at the side of her neck and felt her shiver in his arms.

  And he wanted more.

  He stood up, lifting her as he did so. ‘Sophie. Forgive me. I want to do the macho thing and carry you to my bed.’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ she said huskily, and leaned down to kiss him.

  He had no memory of leaving the kitchen or carrying her to his bedroom. Time just seemed to stop as she kissed him. But then they were outside his bedroom door. He kicked it open and carried her over to the bed.

  The curtains were open, but he couldn’t bear to let her go for long enough to go over to the window and close them. So he carried her over, still kissing her. Dragged the curtains shut. And gently put her down where he wanted her: right in the middle of his king-size bed.

  His bed was huge, Sophie thought as Charlie reached over and switched on the lamp. An enormous bateau-lit, made from polished cherrywood, it dominated the room. The rest of the furniture was painted cream, the walls were pale aqua and there were more waterscapes on the walls. It was peaceful. A restful room. The kind of room where you could lounge on a Sunday morning with the newspaper, leaning back against thick feather pillows and just chilling out with a cup of coffee and a shared plate of flaky, buttery croissants.

  There was a small sound system on the table next to the bed—she’d bet anything that he listened to really highbrow classical music. Opera. Not her type of thing at all. In fact, nothing in this room had a place in her life.

  She should feel like a fish out of water.

  But all she could feel, right now, was need. A desperate need for Charlie. A need for him to cover her body with his, make love with her, fill her, push all the shadows out of her body and out of her head. She knelt and slid her arms around his neck, then brushed her mouth against his, nibbling at his lower lip until he kissed her back.

  Slowly, she slid the open shirt from his shoulders and dropped it on the carpet. Charlie had an amazing body, she thought. Lean and muscular, with broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. There was a sprinkling of hair on his chest that arrowed down over his torso, disappearing beneath the waistband of his dark trousers. Just enough to be sexy. Tempting. Delineating his musculature.

  ‘My turn,’ he whispered softly.

  ‘Yes,’ she hissed as he slid her own shirt from her shoulders and dropped it on top of his. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back. Charlie kissed her throat, nuzzling his way down to the valley between her breasts.

  ‘Touch me, Charlie. Make love with me,’ she whispered.

  He unclasped her bra but she didn’t notice or care where it went—not when his hands were cupping her breasts. It felt so good to have his hands on her like this. Skin to skin. No barriers.

  He dipped his head, taking one hard nipple into his mouth. Her breath shuddered as his tongue circled her areola and skated over the tip of her breast. He blew gently on her wet skin, driving her to the point where she was almost hyperventilating, then did the same to the other breast.

  ‘Don’t tease,’ she begged.

  ‘Don’t tease?’ He rocked back onto his haunches and grinned at her. ‘Says the woman who smells of chocolate,’ he said. ‘Vanilla and chocolate. Do you have any idea how much you blow my mind?’

  If it was anything like what he’d just done to hers—then, yes. ‘Charlie.’ She ran her fingernails lightly down his back. ‘I want you.’

  His pupils were so huge that his eyes looked almost black, instead of the deep cornflower blue she always noticed in Theatre. ‘Believe me, honey, it’s mutual.’ His voice was deep, husky with desire. And it sent a thrill through her that she could make him feel like this—Charlie, who was always so self-contained on the wards. So professional. Smooth, urbane, cultured. Right now, he was nothing like that. He was in control of himself, but only just. She could tell by the colour slashing across his cheekbones that desire was raging as fiercely within him as it was within her.

  And it was all for her.

  With shaking hands, she undid the button of his trousers. Lowered the zip. Slid the fabric downwards so it pooled around his knees.

  He did the same to her skirt.

  She stroked the curve of his buttocks. ‘That’s one hell of a gluteus maximus you have there, Mr Radley,’ she murmured.

  ‘Funny you should say that,’ he retorted, returning the favour. ‘I was thinking exactly the same about you, Dr Harrison.’

  ‘Were you, now?’ She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of his boxer shorts and drew them down, keeping her gaze fixed on his.

  ‘Sophie. You do know you’re driving me out of my mind, don’t you?’ he whispered.

  And then he copied her action, sliding her tights and knickers down to her knees in one smooth movement.

  ‘We have a bit of a problem,’ Sophie said, while she could still frame the words. ‘We choreographed this badly.’ No way could she move, with her clothes wrapped round her knees. And the same was true for him.

  ‘I never said I was perfect.’ He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘And, yes, you’re right. We have a bit of a problem. Close your eyes and trust me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Close your eyes and trust me,’ he repeated, ‘because there’s only one place we can go from here.’

  She closed her eyes. And felt herself falling, falling sideways—straight into the softest, deepest, plushest pillow she’d ever come across.

  She opened her eyes. ‘Charlie!’

  He grinned at her, his face level with her own. ‘We were stuck. It was the only way out, pulling you down here with me.’ He stretched out and shucked his remaining clothes in one smooth movement. ‘Better,’ he said. ‘But this is going to be better still.’ He shimmied his way down the bed, lifted her legs, and stripped her skirt, tights and knickers from her.

  She was about to make a smart remark about him seeming rather practised when she felt the touch of his mouth at the back of her knee and all the clever words went straight out of her head.

  Oh-h-h.

  Since when had that been an erotic spot?

  His fingers cruised up the inside of her thigh, and she stopped thinking altogether. Her hands fisted into the pillows as he stroked her skin; she closed her eyes and shifted onto her back, begging him with her body to go further. Touch her. Taste her. Take her to paradise and back.

  ‘Sophie.’ He shifted to lie beside her again, on his side, and tilted her hips so that she was facing him again. Then he slid a hand between her thighs to cup her sex, and she felt a pulse start to beat very hard against him. ‘Sophie,’ he whispered. ‘I want to touch you.’

  ‘Oh. Yes. Please,’ she said, unable to get the sentence out in one piece.

  ‘Mmm.’ He brushed his mouth against hers. Her breath hissed out of her as he drew one finger along her cleft. So near. Not enough.

  ‘I want to touch you. Taste you. Make love with you.’ He rubbed his face against her hair. ‘I love your hair. It drives me crazy when I see it pinned back at work. I want to see you how you were the other night. All mussed and rumpled and wide-eyed.’ He nibbled her earlobe. ‘And I want you to rumple me, too.’

  Oh, yes. There was going to be some serious rumpling going on tonight. She couldn’t remember when she’d ever felt this turned on. She could feel every pulse in her body thrumming, wanting him. Yearning for him.

  ‘I want you,’ she whispered. ‘I need you inside me.’

  He pushed one finger in. ‘Like this?’

  She gasped. ‘Not enough.’

  He kissed her hard. ‘Give me a second.’ She heard a rattle and a muffled curse, and opened her eyes. He was rummaging in a drawer. Panic was beginning to spread over his face as he clearly couldn’t find what he was looking for.

  Then his expression cleared. ‘For a moment, there …’ He blew out a breath, and ripped the foil packet open. ‘If I hadn’t had anything to protect you—if we’d had to stop—I think I would have spontaneously com
busted.’

  ‘Me, too,’ Sophie said. And then shocked herself with the realisation that if he hadn’t had a condom, she would’ve broken all her personal rules right there and then, and told him not to stop.

  He kissed her again. ‘You’re sure about this?’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘You’re shaking.’

  ‘What were you saying about spontaneous combustion?’

  He gave her a slow, lazy grin. ‘Let’s make a fire, Sophie.’

  Yes. She wanted this. She wanted him. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, inviting another kiss. Let him turn her onto her back.

  And then, when he positioned himself between her thighs, she opened her eyes. Saw him looming over her. And the moment shattered like crystal. It wasn’t Charlie in her mind’s eye. It was someone else. Pinning her down, ripping at her clothes—

  ‘No!’

  Charlie heard the yelp of panic in Sophie’s voice, and stopped.

  ‘Sophie?’

  Her eyes were open, but unfocused. Her face was ashen and she was twisting her head from side to side. ‘No!’

  ‘OK. It’s OK.’ He shifted so that he was sitting beside her, pulled her onto his lap and wrapped the duvet round them both. ‘Hey. It’s OK.’

  ‘I can’t do this,’ she said. Her breathing was more like sobbing between the words.

  ‘It’s OK,’ he repeated.

  She shook her head. ‘I thought I could but. Oh, God. I can’t. I can’t.’

  She was shivering, on the verge of tears.

  And Charlie was torn between wanting to hold her and wanting to rip three certain ex-medical students to shreds. His fists balled, and he forced himself to relax them and breathe normally. She’d been through enough. He wasn’t going to make it worse for her by playing the tough guy.

  ‘Shh. You’re safe. You’re with me,’ he soothed, and cradled her until her shudders had died down.

  ‘I’m sorry. I …’ Her bottom lip quivered.

  ‘No need to apologise.’ He stroked her hair. ‘We went too far, too fast, that’s all. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to do. I promise.’