Tempted by Mr. Off-Limits

by Amy Andrews

  ‘Why can’t doctors just say, too bad, this was clearly your loved one’s intention when they put their name down on the donation register?’

  Lola gave a half-smile, understanding the frustration but knowing it was never as simple as that. ‘Because we don’t believe in further traumatising people who are already in the middle of their worst nightmare.’

  It was difficult to explain how her role as a nurse changed in situations of impending death. How her duty of care shifted—mentally anyway—from her patient to the family. In a weird way they became her responsibility too and trying to help ease them through such a terrible time in their lives—even just a little—became paramount.

  They were going to have to live on, after all, and how the hospital process was managed had a significant bearing on how they coped with their grief.

  ‘Loved ones don’t say no out of spite or grief or even personal belief, Hamish. They say no because they’ve never had a conversation with that person about it. And if they’ve never specifically heard that person say they want their organs donated in the event of their death. They...’ Lola shrugged ‘...err on the side of caution.’

  It was such a terrible time to have to make that kind of decision when people were grappling with so much already.

  ‘I know, I know.’ He sighed and he sounded as heavy-hearted as she’d felt when her patient’s wife had tearfully declined to give consent for organ donation.

  ‘Which is why things like Herd Across the Harbour are so important.’ Lola made an effort to drag them back from the dark abyss she’d been trying to step back from all night, turning slightly to face him, the railing almost at her waist. ‘Raising awareness about people having those kinds of conversations is vital. So they know and support the wishes of their nearest and dearest if it ever comes to an end-of-life situation.’

  She raised her glass towards him and Hamish smiled and tapped his beer bottle against it. ‘Amen.’

  They didn’t drink, though, they just stared at each other, the blue of his eyes as mesmerising in the night as the perfect symmetry of his jaw and cheekbones and the fullness of his mouth. They were close, their thighs almost brushing, their hands a whisper apart on the railing.

  Lola was conscious of his heat and his solidness and the urge to put her head on his chest and just be held was surprisingly strong.

  When was the last time she’d wanted to be just held by a man?

  The need echoed in the sudden thickness of her blood and the stirring deep inside her belly, although neither of them felt particularly platonic. Confused by her feelings, she pushed up onto her tippy-toes and kissed him, trapping their drinks between them.

  She shouldn’t have. She really shouldn’t have.

  But, oh...it was lovely. The feel of his arms coming around her, the heat of his mouth, the swipe of his tongue. The quick rush of warmth to her breasts and belly and thighs. The funny bump of her heart in her chest.

  The way he groaned her name against her mouth.

  But she had to stop. ‘I’m sorry.’ She broke away and took a reluctant step back. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’

  His fingers on the railing covered hers. ‘Yeah,’ he whispered. ‘You absolutely should have.’

  Lola gave him a half-smile, touched by his certainty but knowing it couldn’t go anywhere. She slipped her hand out from under his, smiled again then turned away, heading straight to her room and shutting out temptation.

  CHAPTER TWO

  BUT LOLA COULDN’T SLEEP. Not after finishing her glass of wine in bed or taking a bath or one of those all-natural sleeping tablets that usually did the trick. She lay awake staring at the ceiling, the events of the shift playing over and over in her head.

  Her patient’s wife saying, ‘But there’s not a scratch on him...’ and his daughter crying, ‘No, Daddy!’ and his teenage son being all stoic and brave and looking so damn stricken it still clawed at her gut. The faces and the words turned around and around, a noisy wrenching jumble inside her head, while the oppressive weight of silence in the house practically deafened her.

  She felt...alone...she realised. Damn it, she never felt alone. She was often here by herself overnight if Grace was at work or at Marcus’s and it had never bothered her before. She’d never felt alone in a city. But tonight she did.

  It was because Hamish was out there. She knew that. Human company—male company—was lying on the couch and she was in here, staring at the shadows on the ceiling. And because it wouldn’t be the first time she’d turned to a man to forget a bad shift, her body was restless with confusion.

  Was it healthy to sex away her worries? No. But it wasn’t a regular habit and it sure as hell helped from time to time.

  Lola had no doubt Hamish would be up for it. He’d been flirting with her from the beginning and he’d certainly been all in when she’d kissed him on the balcony. The message in his eyes when she’d pulled away had been loud and clear.

  If you want to take this to the bedroom, I’m your guy.

  And if he hadn’t been Grace’s brother, she would have followed through. And not just because she needed the distraction but because there was something about Hamish Gibson that tugged at her. She’d felt it on the bridge this morning and at the bar.

  It was no doubt to do with his empathy, with his innate understanding of what she’d witnessed tonight. She didn’t usually go for men who came from her world, particularly in these situations. Someone outside it—who didn’t know or care what she’d been through—was usually a much better distraction.

  Someone who only cared about getting her naked.

  Who knew familiarity and empathy could be so damn sexy? Who knew they could stroke right between your legs as well as clutch at your heart?

  Lola rolled on her side and stuffed her hands between her thighs to quell the heat and annoying buzz of desire. Wasn’t going to happen. Hamish was Grace’s brother. And she couldn’t go there. No matter how much she needed the distraction. No matter how well he kissed. No matter the fire licking through her veins and roaring at the juncture of her legs.

  Lola shut her eyes—tight.

  Go to sleep, damn it.

  * * *

  At two o’clock in the morning, Lola gave up trying to fight it. Grace wasn’t here—she’d texted an hour ago to say she was staying at Marcus’s—and Hamish would be gone in the morning.

  What could it hurt? As long as he knew it was a one-off?

  Decision made, she kicked off the sheet and stood. She paused as she contemplated her attire, her underwear and a tank top. Should she dress in something else? Slip on one of her satiny scraps of lingerie that covered more but left absolutely nothing to the imagination? She’d been surprised to learn over the years that some guys preferred subtlety.

  Or should she go out there buck naked?

  What kind of guy was Hamish—satin and lace or bare flesh?

  Oh, bloody hell. What was wrong with her? Had she lost her freaking mind? Hamish was probably just going to be grateful for her giving it up for him at two in the morning and smart enough to take it any way it was offered. She was going to be naked soon enough anyway.

  Just get out there, Lola!

  Quickly snatching a condom out of the box in her bedside drawer, she headed for her door, opened it and tiptoed down the darkened hallway. Ambient light from a variety of electrical appliances cast a faint glow into the living room and she could make out a large form on the couch. She came closer, stepping around the coffee table to avoid a collision with her shins, and the form became more defined.

  He’d kicked off the sheet, which meant Lola could see a lot of bare skin—abs, legs, chest—and she looked her fill. A pair of black boxer briefs stopped her from seeing everything and his face was hidden by one bare arm thrown up over it. The roundness of his biceps as it pushed against his jaw was distracting as all giddy
up.

  As was the long stretch of his neck.

  It was tempting to do something really crazy like run her fingers along that exposed, whiskery skin. Possibly her tongue.

  But she needed to wake him first. She couldn’t just jump on him, no matter how temptingly he was lying there.

  Lola clenched her fists, the sharp foil edges of the condom cutting into her palm as she took a step towards him. Her foot landed on the only squeaky floorboard in the entire room and he was awake in an instant. She froze as his abs tensed and his body furled upwards, his legs swinging over the edge of the couch. His feet had found the floor before she had a chance to take another breath.

  He blinked up at her, running his palms absently up and down the length of his bare thighs. ‘Lola?’

  Lola let out a shaky breath as she took a step back. ‘I guess it’s true what they say about country guys, then.’

  ‘Hung like horses?’ He shot her a sleepy smile. His voice was low and rumbly but alert.

  She laughed and it was loud in the night. ‘Light sleepers.’

  ‘Oh, that.’ He rubbed his palm along his jawline and the scratchy noise went straight to her belly button. ‘Are you okay?’

  Lola shook her head, her heart suddenly racing as she contemplated the width of his shoulders and the proposition she was about to lay on him. ‘I...can’t sleep.’

  ‘So you came out for...a cup of warm milk?’

  The smile on his face matched the one in his voice, all playful and teasing, and Lola blushed. Her cheeks actually heated! What the hell?

  Since when did she start blushing?

  Most nurses she knew, including herself, were generally immune to embarrassment. She’d seen far too much stuff in her job to be embarrassed by anything.

  ‘No.’ She held up the condom, her fingers trembling slightly, grateful for the cover of night. ‘I was thinking of something more...physical.’

  His gaze slid to the condom and Lola’s belly clenched as he contemplated the foil packet like it was the best damn thing he’d seen all night. ‘I have read,’ he said after a beat or two, refocusing on her face, ‘that physical activity is very good for promoting sleep.’

  Lola’s nipples puckered at the slight emphasis on ‘physical activity’ and she swallowed against a mouth suddenly dry as the couch fabric. ‘Yeah.’ She smiled. ‘I read that too.’

  He held out his hand. ‘Come here.’

  Lola’s heart leapt in her chest but she ground her feet into the floor. They had to establish some ground rules. ‘This can only be a one-time thing.’

  ‘I know.’

  His assurance grazed Lola’s body like a physical force, rubbing against all the good spots, but she needed to make certain he was absolutely on the same page. ‘You’re leaving tomorrow,’ she continued. ‘We’ll probably never see each other again.’ This was the first time she’d met Hamish after all, despite having lived with Grace for almost all the last two years. ‘And I’m good with that.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘I don’t do relationships. Especially not long-distance relationships.’

  He nodded again. ‘I understand. We’re one and done. I am good with it, Lola.’

  ‘Also... I don’t think we should tell Grace about this.’

  He sat back a little, clearly startled at the suggestion, looking slightly askance. ‘Do I look like I took a stupid pill to you?’

  Lola laughed. He looked like he’d taken an up-for-it pill and heat wound through her abdomen. Hamish leaned forward at the hips and crooked his finger, a small smile playing on his wicked mouth.

  ‘Come here, Lola.’

  The way he said her name when he was mostly naked was like fingers stroking down her belly. Lola took a small step forward, her entire body trembling with anticipation. She took another and then she was standing in front of him, the outsides of her thighs just skimming the insides of his knees.

  He held his hand out and she placed the condom in his palm. He promptly shoved it under a cushion before sliding his hands onto the sides of her thighs. Lola’s breath hitched as they slid all the way up and the muscles in her stomach jumped as they slid under the hem of her T-shirt, pushing it up a little.

  Leaning closer, he brushed his mouth against the bare skin, his lips touching down just under her belly button. Lola’s mouth parted on a soft gasp and her hands found his shoulders as their gazes locked. One hand kept travelling, pushing into the thick wavy locks of his hair, holding him there as they stared at each other, their breathing low and rough.

  Then he fell back against the couch, pulling her with him, urging her legs apart so she was straddling him, the heat and pulse at her heart settling over the heat and hardness of him.

  His hands slid into her hair, pulling her head down, his mouth seeking hers.

  Her pulse thundered through her ears and throbbed between her legs and she moaned as their lips met. She couldn’t have stopped it even had she wanted to.

  And she didn’t.

  He swallowed it up, his mouth opening over hers, a faint trace of his toothpaste a cool undercurrent to all the heat. He kissed her slow but deep, wet and thorough, and Lola’s entire body tingled and yearned as she clutched at his shoulders from her dominant position, moaning and gasping against his mouth.

  He was all she could think about. His mouth and his heat and the hardness between his legs. No work, no death, no stricken children, no disbelieving wives. Just Hamish, good and hard and hot and hers, filling her senses and her palms and the space between her thighs.

  Lola barely registered falling or the softness of landing as his hands guided her backwards. But she did register the long naked stretch of him against her. The way his hips settled into the cradle of her pelvis, the way his erection notched along the seam of her sex, the way his body pressed her hard and good into the cushions.

  He was dominating her now and she loved it. Wanted more. Needed more. His skin sliding over hers. His body sliding into hers. It was as if he could read her mind. His hands pushing her shirt up, gliding over her stomach and ribs and breasts, pulling it off over her head before returning to her breasts, squeezing and kneading, pinching her nipples, his mouth coming back hard and hot on hers, kissing and kissing and kissing until she was dizzy with the magic of his mouth, clawing at his back and gasping her pleasure.

  He kissed down her neck and traced the lines of her collar bones with the tip of his tongue before lapping it over her sternum and circling her nipples, sucking each one into his mouth making her cry out, making her mutter, ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ in some kind of incoherent jumble. And he kept doing it, licking and sucking as his hands pushed at her underwear and hers pushed at his until they were both free of barriers.

  He broke away, tearing the foil open and rolling the condom on, then he was back and she almost lost her breath at the thickness of his erection sliding between her legs. He was big and hard, gliding through her slickness, finding her entrance and settling briefly.

  ‘You feel so good,’ he muttered, before easing inside her, slowly at first then pushing home on a groan that stirred the cells in her marrow and lit the wick on her arousal.

  She flared like a torch in the night, insane with wanting him, wanting him more than she’d ever wanted anybody before, panting her need straight into his ear, ‘God yes, like that,’ revelling in the thickness of him, the way he stretched her, the way he filled her. ‘Just like that...’

  And he gave it to her like that and more, rocking and pounding, kissing her again, swallowing her moans and her cries and her pants, smothering them with his own as he thrust in and pulled out, a slow steady stroke, the rhythm of his hips setting the rhythm in her blood and the sizzle in her cells. Electricity buzzed from the base of her spine to the arch of her neck.

  Her mind was blank of everything but the heat and the thrust and the feel of him. The priso
n of his strong, rounded biceps either side of her and the broad, naked cage of his chest pinning her to the couch and the piston of his hard, narrow hips nailing her into the cushions. And the smell of him, hot and male and aroused, filling up her head, making her nostrils flare with the wild mix of toothpaste and testosterone.

  Lola gasped, tearing her mouth from his as her orgasm burst around her, starting in her toes, curling them tight before rolling north, undulating through her calves and her knees and her thighs, exploding between her legs and imploding inside her belly, breaking over her in waves of ever-increasing intensity until all she could do was hold on and cry out ‘Hamish!’ as it took her.

  ‘I know.’ He panted into her neck, his breathing hot and heavy, his body trembling like hers. ‘I know.’ He reared above her, thrusting hard one last time, his back bowed, his fists ground into the cushions either side of her head. ‘Lola-a-a-a...’

  He came hard, his release bellowing out of him as his hips took over again and he rocked and rocked and rocked her, pushing her orgasm higher and higher and higher, taking her with him all the way to top until they were both spent, panting and clinging and falling back to earth in a messy heap of limbs and satisfaction.

  Lola hadn’t even realised she’d drifted off to sleep when Hamish moved away and she muttered something in protest. He hushed her as she drifted again. Somewhere in the drunken quagmire of her brain she thought she should get up and leave, but it was nice here in the afterglow.

  Too nice to move.

  Hell, a normal woman would have dragged him back to her bed. It was bigger with a lot more potential for further nocturnal activity of the carnal kind. But then he was back and he was shuffling in behind her, his heavy arm dragging her close as he spooned her and she could barely open her eyes let alone co-ordinate her brain and limbs to make a move.

  She was finally in a place where there was nothing on her mind and she liked it there.

  She liked it very, very much.

  CHAPTER THREE