A Surgeon for the Single Mom

by Charlotte Hawkes

  ‘I’m more like my father than you know,’ Tak countered darkly. ‘My mother said so often enough when I was growing up.’

  And all of a sudden it was desperately, painfully clear to Effie. In her despair and devastation and depression, his mother had taken all her fears out on her oldest son. Perhaps it had been her way of venting, or perhaps it had been her way of ensuring her son wouldn’t turn on her, but Effie could imagine it in crystal-clear detail. A half-out-of-it mother screaming at her ten-year-old son that he was just like his father. She’d seen it often enough. Hell, she’d even lived it herself.

  No doubt whenever Tak had voiced anything about doing something for himself—from playing a game of football with his friends, or going to a friend’s house—anything which had meant he might not be there to care for his younger siblings, his mother would have thrown that accusation at him. Saying the one thing she knew would get the reaction he needed, likening him to the one person who disgusted him the most.

  In spite of all that Tak had told her, and the empathy she had for his mother’s situation, for that part of it Effie couldn’t forgive her. A mother was supposed to look out for her children, love them, protect them. Tak’s mother had made Tak responsible for his father’s shortcomings, and she’d used his father against him every time he’d looked as if he was going to step out of line. She had damaged him emotionally. It had been cruel and it had been entirely avoidable.

  And now all Effie could think was that she wanted to be the one to help Tak see the truth. To heal him. She didn’t know if she could. She didn’t know if anyone could. But she’d be damned if she didn’t at least try.

  ‘You aren’t your father, Tak,’ she offered softly.

  ‘I know that,’ he growled. ‘But I’m his son. It’s there somewhere. I have his genes.’

  ‘You and I both know the nature versus nurture debate. You’re a completely different person to your father. To both your parents, for that matter. Look at Hetti and the rest of your siblings.’

  ‘Rafi is like him,’ Tak ground out.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Rafi. He lived through the same childhood I did. He knew exactly how that man destroyed everything. He hated him every bit as much as I did. And then, six months after he got married, I discovered he was having an affair. That he’d had a mistress on the side before he even got engaged.’

  It took her a moment, but she finally thrust her shock aside. ‘That still doesn’t make you like him, Tak. It isn’t what you stand for.’

  ‘You can’t know that for certain.’

  ‘I can. Because that isn’t who you are.’

  But it was pointless. The conversation was over and Tak had shut her out. Again.

  They sipped their coffee in silence, with Tak clearly marking time until he deemed it polite to leave. And then they were in the lift, the silence almost suffocating her as she stood next to him. He was only inches away and yet it might as well have been a whole continent. His fury and resentment were coming off him in waves.

  He didn’t so much walk her to her room door as stalk there, barely waiting for her key card reader to flash green before marching to his own door.

  ‘Goodnight,’ she ventured as she stood just inside her room.

  But he was already gone.

  For several protracted minutes Effie paced up and down in her sitting area. It was hell knowing he was only on the other side of that wall but that he was shutting her out. Torturing himself with accusations that should never have been hurled at him. Believing himself to be the kind of man who would do something which so disgusted him.

  And what kind of willpower did it take to hold himself back from people—girlfriends—the way he must have done all his life?

  Much the same as the willpower you’ve shown, a small voice whispered in the back of her head. And was it really so difficult to stand back before Tak walked into your life?

  The thought lent her strength. What if she was to Tak what he had been to her? The one person to break through those barriers? She felt as though her day alone in Paris had unleashed something in her which hadn’t been there for almost two decades. She felt wild, reckless and free. Maybe now it was time to put it to the test.

  She didn’t give herself time to think, lest she talked herself out of her. Talked herself back down to being the woman she always was—never seizing what she really wanted. And she wanted Tak.

  Effie marched to the connecting door and slid the bolt, pretending she didn’t see her hand shaking before she lifted her chin and strode through into Tak’s room.

  It was empty.

  For a moment Effie hesitated. Did she turn back? Wait? Where was he, even?

  And then she heard a door open around the corner and Tak walked in, with a damp sheen on his body, wet hair, and a small towel around his waist. He stopped, stared, and Effie didn’t miss the tiny flare of his nostrils or the way his eyes widened a fraction.

  It restored her waning courage and she propelled herself forward, towards him, stopping inches from his face. ‘Pleasant shower?’

  She couldn’t resist lifting her hands, allowing them to skim over the glorious pectoral muscles of his well-honed chest. Her insides turned to mush just at this mere contact. Her only comfort was that she could feel coolness coming off his skin. A cold shower? Surely that had to be a good sign? As was the slightly hoarse edge to his voice when he spoke.

  ‘What are you doing, Effie? I didn’t bring you here for this.’

  ‘No, I know. But still, I wanted to come and thank you for bringing me to Paris.’

  He blinked, clearly surprised. She didn’t blame him. She sounded bold, sensual—so unlike herself.

  ‘You’ve already thanked me.’

  ‘Well, I wanted to thank you properly.’

  Before he could say anything else she tipped her head forward and pressed a kiss to the hollow at his throat, her hands tracing the rigid contours of his torso, her fingertips deliberately grazing his nipples.

  And he let her. Not even moving as she dropped a trail of kisses from his neck downwards. His lack of reaction might have concerned her, but his breathing was too harsh, too shallow, and it betrayed him.

  She inched closer, felt the unmistakable evidence of his growing arousal pressing instantly against her hip just as she heard the catch of breath in his throat. He hadn’t been rejecting her at the door before—he’d been trying to respect her. But there was no doubt that he wanted her—really wanted her—as much as she wanted him.

  It made her feel powerful, suddenly. In absolute control. Before he could stop her she hooked her fingers around the towel, unsecured it and then dropped to her knees in front of him. Finally a side of herself which she’d always wished she had was making itself known.

  And it was all because of Tak Basu.

  Her head was spinning with desire. With exultation. With the way Tak was completely at her mercy and apparently more than happy to be so. He was male—so utterly, gloriously, solidly male—and yet he was letting her do whatever she wanted to do to him.

  It felt intoxicating to be entrusted with such power, such control. And, whatever happened next, she was determined that she would have this one perfect night with him.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  HE SHOULD STOP HER.

  Dimly the thought moved around Tak’s head. But he couldn’t. Not when she was kissing him, licking him, torturing him the way she was right now. An exquisite kind of torture which he thought might be the perfect death of him.

  And then she took him in her hand, tilting her head up to him, her eyes clear and wanton, her lips curled up mischievously, and he felt a kick, low and hard, in his abdomen.

  But that was nothing compared to the blow that hit him when she opened her mouth and took him deep inside her mouth. A blow which almost felled him.

  He couldn’t even breathe.
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  Effie. His Effie.

  He couldn’t say it. He had no right even thinking it. But she undermined his walls with every conversation and every revelation. And now with every wicked flick of her tongue. She was so incredibly perfect, and all he could do was thrust his hands into her hair in some kind of attempt to root himself to the ground, to keep himself from exploding there and then.

  Slow and lazy at first, her mouth and her tongue were playing, teasing, toying with him. Every flick of her tongue sent rivers of need cascading through his entire body, drowning out every other thought in his head. Carefully, she built up the pace. Taking her time as though she was enjoying every second of the lethal control she had over him.

  And she did have control over him, Tak realised with a jolt, and not just because she had her mouth wrapped around him in this moment. She’d been gaining dominance over him every day since that first night at the hospital gala. Making him wish he really was a different man from the one he’d always feared he might be. He hadn’t done a damn thing to stop it, and now he feared he never could.

  She was under his skin, in his veins. Her touch, her scent, her voice. And he never wanted to let her go.

  Her teeth grazed gently over his tip and with a start Tak realised he was embarrassingly close to losing himself.

  ‘Stop,’ he bit out. ‘Not this way.’

  It took everything he had to brace his fingers against her and pull back, hoisting her up into his arms as he did. His fingers were reaching for her zipper and releasing her from her dress until she was standing there in just her underwear. Not that it helped.

  The black lace bra and brief set with its tiny red bows would have been enough—feminine yet seductive, transparent enough for him to see everything. But then his eyes dropped to the matching suspender belt, the sheer stockings which only seemed to emphasise those impossibly long, sexy legs, and the heels which enhanced already shapely calves.

  It was a devastating collection. Heady in the extreme. And Tak couldn’t contain himself any longer.

  In one move he scooped her into his arms, carrying her to the bed and lowering her as softly as his throbbing, aching body would allow before nestling between her legs and pressing his mouth to her where she needed him the most.

  She was feverishly hot, magnificently wet, honey-sweet. She gasped instantly, bucking her hips, making him feel more turned on than he thought he’d ever been in his life. More desperate for her than he’d known possible.

  ‘Tak...’

  ‘Call it payback,’ he growled, sliding his hands beneath her rounded peachy bottom and lifting her to him again. Wrapping those incredible legs around his shoulders. ‘And I intend to exact every last bit. With interest.’

  Then he hooked the fabric of her briefs to one side and simply licked into her. Over and over as she moved against his mouth and on his tongue.

  The guttural sounds ripped from her throat were becoming more urgent and more needy by the second. And he didn’t think he would ever be able to get enough of her. Of this. He traced whorls around her core with his tongue and his fingers, slipping them inside her, revelling in her gasps and the way she opened herself up to him as if she couldn’t help herself. All the while maintaining a steady flick over the tiny bud at her core and stoking the fire which burned so brightly inside her.

  And then he felt her changing, beginning to pull away. He heard a weak protestation on her lips, something about wanting to do this together, and Tak couldn’t help himself. He held her in place and sucked deep and hard at her core, refusing to let her go.

  Instantly her body trembled, and stiffened, and finally shattered all around him. She was exploding as though he’d driven her beyond all control, crying out his name as though she knew it too.

  ‘I didn’t want it this way,’ she whispered regretfully when she finally came back to herself.

  ‘Then you gave a rather good performance that you were enjoying it,’ Tak murmured, standing above her, his desire still painfully obvious.

  Effie struggled to lift herself on to her elbows. ‘I don’t mean I didn’t enjoy it.’ She blushed prettily. ‘I think it’s obvious that I did. More than enjoy it. I just meant I wanted both of us to...’

  ‘We don’t have protection,’ he ground out, wishing his body wasn’t urging him to ignore such a substantial obstacle. ‘I didn’t bring anything. I told you—I didn’t bring you to Paris for this.’

  And he had no intention of sleeping with anyone else whilst he felt this way about Effie. What did that say about their non-relationship?

  ‘But I came prepared.’ She offered a wry smile, fishing something out of her bra.

  It took him a moment to recognise it for what it was. Then something slammed into his chest. Hard.

  ‘Then it’s a good job I’m not finished.’

  Her eyes flew to his and she twisted her mouth nervously. For the first time it occurred to Tak that but for that one time in her youth—a one-off fumble which had resulted in Nell—Effie had no idea what she was doing.

  For some reason that knowledge ignited some primal sense inside himself. She was rare, unique, otherwise untouched. She’d kept herself that way out of her own choice. She truly was his.

  With a groan, he took the small packet from her fingers, lowering himself on the bed and moving over her body, his arms either side of her bearing his weight. Every inch of him was alive to every touch. Revelling in the way her hands roamed his body constantly, as though she couldn’t get enough either.

  She skimmed her hands over his chest, then his shoulders, and down over his back, tracing his braced shoulder muscles and the way his body tapered to his waist.

  For his part, he feasted on her mouth, taking his time, giving her the chance to come down from her orgasm and beginning the process of building her up to another. He rained kisses on her face, on the bridge of her nose, over her eyebrows and to her temples. He pressed his lips to the sensitive spots below her ear and at her throat until her nails dug into his shoulders and she whispered for more.

  Tak was only too happy to oblige.

  He bent his head, pulling down one bra cup to expose her breast, which he kissed and licked and finally sucked, and then turned his attentions to the other. Back and forth, he ignored the throb of his desire, the way he ached to plunge himself so deep inside her that neither of them would know where he ended and she began.

  The rawness, the need with which he wanted Effie, was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Not least when she shifted and he nudged against her wetness. He feared he might be lost there and then.

  It took him moments to open the wrapper and deftly slide on the condom, but it felt like an age, and then he settled back between her legs and eased himself close to her, his hand reaching down to stroke her silken folds and ensure she was ready.

  He wasn’t prepared for her to wrap herself around him and draw him quickly inside, her muscles stretching around him as though she’d been made exclusively for him, clenching over him, her heat making him sear.

  ‘Easy, Effie...’ He barely managed to get the warning out.

  ‘I can’t.’ She lifted her hips, as though a slave to the rhythm they were setting on their own, completely independent of her. ‘I want this. I’ve wanted this for so long.’

  As her hands moved down his back to clutch his backside, as if she must drive him even deeper inside her, Tak couldn’t stand it any longer. He slammed into her hard, again and again, and her cries urged him on as she rode out every wave with him. He moved his hand between them, stroking her, never letting up, and when he felt a shiver ripple through her body he pressed down hard and felt her orgasm take over.

  For a while, he made himself hold on. Throwing her off the edge all by herself and watching her plummet, then soar. Waiting as she came back down to him. But before she could land he gave himself up to the moment, climaxing into h
er with a primitive sound which didn’t even sound like himself.

  This time when she took flight he soared with her.

  And he never wanted to come back to the ground.

  * * *

  ‘It really must be something to be the King of Awake Craniotomies,’ Effie pondered at some point in the early hours, after he’d reached for her several times more, sating her, exhausting her, and then doing it all over again.

  ‘Hmm...?’

  ‘All those people at the conference today. They all came to hear you speak.’

  ‘There were lots of speakers there.’

  ‘But it was you who packed the room. It was your speech which had the applause practically raising the roof off this hotel.’

  ‘I’ve always thought, in many ways, that I’m lucky,’ he replied eventually. ‘People come to me when there’s already a fair suspicion that there’s a brain or spinal issue. But you, out there in the field, you never know what you’re going to get. You have to be ready for anything, thinking of everything, catering to all possibilities.’

  ‘It’s...frightening sometimes,’ she admitted. ‘But it’s also rewarding. Especially when a patient and his family make a trip to the air ambulance base months later to thank you for what you did. But you must get that, too.’

  ‘Yes. Still, I’d love to see it from your perspective.’

  ‘So come along.’

  Effie shrugged, as if they were in a real relationship. As if considering the future wasn’t strange. As if meeting up in a month or so, when she was back in her flat and any non-relationship she’d ever had with Tak wouldn’t be awkward.

  ‘We do ride-alongs for press and medical professionals sometimes. You could join us for a day. Because of your expertise you could probably even take the place of one of my paramedics for the shift.’

  And he nodded, and kissed her thigh, and told her he would arrange it as soon as they got back. Then he reached for her again, already hard, already wanting her. Just as he would for the rest of the weekend.