Special Delivery

by Reagan Shaw

  “Oh,” I said, and nodded. “That’s why you never date.”

  “Correct. Figured that was relevant, since you’re a deer in the headlights right now. What about you, Erika? You act like you’re allergic to me. Is it just me or is it all men? Who hurt you?”

  “Hurt me?” I leaned my palms against the counter behind me, relaxing slightly. Funnily enough, talking about the hurtful stuff was easier than facing the sexual tension between us, the taboo aspect of living under his roof, even if it was temporarily.

  “That’s right. Marc mentioned you got dumped.”

  “Such a lovely way to put it,” I replied sweetly.

  Noah’s throaty chuckle filled the kitchen, bounced off the cool, white walls. “Shit, you know what I mean. What was his name?”

  “We’re really going to do this?”

  “I don’t know, are we?” Noah asked. “It’s taking all my willpower not to rip that silk off your body. Talking helps. Talking about bad shit will probably help even more.”

  I shuddered. “Jason,” I said and splashed icy water all over our desire. “His name was Jason, and he was an asshole. I worked with him before he left me. We worked in a practice together. Private practice. He owned it and had hired me, but when things didn’t work out, I was out of a job. And an apartment, since I lived with him.” I gave a small, bitter laugh. “I—uh—I wasted all my savings on something, and when it didn’t work out, I had nothing left.”

  “Something?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’m not cool with talking about that, even to douse the sexual tension. Forgive me.”

  “Baby, I’ll do so much more than forgive you.” His voice was so goddamn deep, so loaded. “What else you got?”

  “Uh, I like pineapple on pizza too? I thought I was the only one.”

  “Why do you hate me?” Noah asked.

  “Are you kidding?” I kept my hands where they were, on the counter, but gripped it so hard my fingertips hurt.

  “No, I’m not kidding. Walk me through it.”

  “Oh, come on, Noah, you’ve got to know why. There were so many times. So many things you said. I overheard you trash-talking me to my brother. I knew that you didn’t like me or thought I was a loser because of the focus I put on studies rather than floozying around. I don’t know. The time you pushed me in the pool at my brother’s birthday party? The names you called me? How small you made me feel? The fact that you made it plain I was nothing in your eyes, in front of everyone at that school. The list goes on and on, but you know all of this, you were there.” I finished and caught my breath. I’d put all that high-school crap behind me, all the hurt and the teenage angst, but it was strangely cathartic saying it out loud now.

  “There was a reason for all of that.”

  “Yeah, you’re an asshole.” But I grinned after I said it. I couldn’t rationally believe that after he’d just taken me under his wing. Or should I? Should I believe it was just so he could manipulate me or make me feel shitty again? “What about that last night before you left? That kiss?”

  “It killed me,” Noah said, voice strained. “Killed me to hold back with you. Fuck, I wanted you, Erika. I wanted you so bad I fucking hated you for it. Yes, I was a toxic prick. Yeah, I’ve learned my lesson, but I never meant a goddamn word of it. All the shit that was inside, that was true. I didn’t—I couldn’t handle that. Still can’t, really.”

  “Shit inside?”

  “Not the colonic kind,” he said, grinning.

  “Nice. Very nice. I like what you did there. Mentioning colons to kill the romantic vibe in here.”

  He tipped an imaginary hat.

  We fell into awkward silence again, and I focused on the pizza instead of looking at him. “So, you’re expecting me to believe that you were just, what, into me? That was the reason you called me a dork and embarrassed me in front of my brother and all your friends?”

  “I don’t expect you to believe anything. Take the information or leave it. I don’t feel it’s relevant anymore.” He walked around the island toward me, and I was frozen. He stopped too close, so that his breath tickled my skin, and placed one hand on the base of my neck, tapped my collarbone with his thumb. “All I know is this moment. The fact that you’re here, and every time you are, this happens to me.” He took one of my hands from the counter and pressed it against the front of his boxers. He was hard as rock again.

  I moaned and bit my bottom lip. “What are you doing to me, Noah? What are you doing?”

  “Nothing yet.” He palmed my breast through my shirt and squeezed lightly. “What do you want me to do to you?”

  Everything. I want it all. I want all of you. I want you on the kitchen counter. I want you to own me.

  But I’d wanted it for too long and with too much intensity. A high-school crush that’d stayed with me and grown out of control over the past month. If we did this now… If I slipped his cock out of those boxers, and if he pushed me up against the counter and fucked me, hard and fast, it would all be over.

  There’d be absolutely no turning back.

  He didn’t want a relationship. I didn’t want to risk disappointing myself again. And every second with him brought feelings I couldn’t control. Ones that weren’t just physical.

  “Noah,” I breathed.

  He kissed me, and I whimpered against his lips, kissed him back, wrapped my arms around his neck.

  He grabbed my ass and lifted me onto the counter, grinding himself into me, plucking at the strings of my top. He dragged one down, and then the other, and my breasts popped free.

  I moaned again, losing my grip on that constitution, that decision not to do this. He’s your work colleague. What would Marc say? Don’t sell out! Don’t do this. Don’t trust him, don’t trust anyone.

  The thoughts buzzed in the background as he kissed me, his tongue massaging mine. I soared higher and higher, my pussy throbbed for him, the front of my silk shorts already soaked through.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said, against my lips. “Last chance, Erika. You’d better leave this kitchen right fucking now. I can’t take it. Woman, I’m going to fuck you raw again.” Each word was strangled. “You’d better go. Get out of here. Fuck it, call for takeout from your room. I can’t handle it.” It was almost a plea. A plea from Noah Cox. Mr. Unbreakable had started cracking apart right in front of me.

  “OK,” I managed, pressing my forehead against his. “OK.”

  He wrapped those massive hands around my waist and lifted me down from the counter, set me on my feet. He stepped back, and I glanced at his boxers, gasped. The front was wet. He was dripping for me.

  “Go,” he growled. “Go.”

  I hurried out of the kitchen as fast as my legs would carry me, and that wasn’t as fast as I would’ve liked, given that they were weak from what’d just happened. I halted in the living room, slipped my top back over my breasts, settled the straps, and looked back at him. “Noah,” I said.

  “What?” he croaked.

  “We can’t ever sleep together again. We can’t. If we do—”

  “I know,” he said, but didn’t look at me. Maybe he couldn’t.

  “OK.” That was all I could say or risk saying. If I stalled any longer, I’d go back in there and bend over for him. I darted out of the living room, into the hall, and then into the guest room. I slammed the door shut behind myself, considered locking it, then laughed it out.

  If I locked it, it would be to guard against my emotions, rather than him storming in here. I didn’t doubt Noah had more self-control than I did. If he hadn’t stopped in the kitchen, I would’ve put all the negative thoughts on the back burner and allowed it to happen. Loved every second of it, in fact.

  “Shit,” I whispered, and walked over to the bed. I sat down on it, stomach still grumbling. “I’m in deep dinosaur doo-doo now.” Even the lame joke didn’t resolve the desire still coursing through me.

  It was Noah or nothing.

  Nothing it is, then.

&nb
sp; Noah

  I woke to thoughts of her. Cracked my eyelids and stared at the treacherous sun, breaking through the gap between my curtains. Last night, shit, last night had almost ended me, and this morning was no better.

  My dick was rock hard, pressing into my boxers again, and this wasn’t the standard I-gotta-pee, morning-glory boner. This was the “if I don’t rub this one out, I’m going to have blue balls” boner. I rolled out of bed, blinking sleep from my eyes and trundled across the carpet and into my ensuite bathroom.

  I shut the door, dragged my shorts off, and grabbed for the aqueous cream I kept on the sink. Fuck, it was too much, living with her. It was just her presence in the house. The thought of her tits out, last night, pressed against me. The taste of her skin.

  “Fuck it,” I muttered and smoothed cream over my shaft, circled my head, and my hips bucked of their own accord. Pleasure spread through me, from the tip, backward, through my abdomen, and I growled under my breath.

  We’d had one official time together, but it was enough to summon every fantasy I’d ever had of her into reality.

  I pictured her, bent in front of me, over the sink, her eyes wide as I pounded into her, doggy-style. Our reflections in the mirror. Her breasts bouncing as I pinned her there, made her scream my name this time. Made her lose it. Lose thoughts of anyone else. Of any other moment, any past hurt.

  Christ.

  “Erika,” I grunted. “Erika, baby.” The sensations were sweeter with her name to accent them. I stroked faster, tightening my grip slightly, emulating that tight pussy, how it’d clenched around me as she came. I twisted, focused on my tip, bit my lip, and braced myself on the bathroom counter.

  I was already too close.

  “Erika.” One last time, and I envisioned her mouth around my cock, gobbling me up as greedily as she had that first time. That only time, fuck. She’d sucked my dick like it was the only thing she’d ever wanted. She’d worshipped it.

  The sensations combined with that memory were too much to handle. My balls tightened up, and I growled, hit my climax. I pumped into my hand, grabbing onto the marble top for support and finished in four long strokes.

  “Jesus,” I whispered. “Jesus.” First time I’d come that fast in years. Since I was a teenager fantasizing about having Erika all to myself, in my bedroom back in Syracuse. That was what made this so goddamn intense—it was like being a sex-starved teen all over again.

  I washed my hands then turned on the faucets in the shower and doused myself in warm water. I washed up quick, dried even quicker, and spritzed on some cologne. I had appointments today, and likely time in the delivery room this week. No cesareans, so it all hinged on when my patients went into labor, but one of them was due Friday.

  Needless to say, focus was the order of the day, and that meant putting all these fucked-up obsessive feelings about Erika behind me. At least until I could fuck her again. No. Not fuck her. Not anything with her. It’s done. Your little game is done, Cox.

  But no amount of telling myself that made it real.

  I dressed quickly, left my coat on the bed, then headed out of my bedroom and across the living room into the kitchen. I halted in the doorway, steeled myself.

  Erika was already in there. She swayed her ass in those silky pajama shorts and stood behind the stove. The scent of bacon sizzling in the pan, along with fried eggs and toast, wafted through the kitchen.

  “Hungry?” I asked.

  She jolted, then laughed and looked back over her shoulder at me. “What is it about you? You’re always giving me frights.”

  “You’re never ready for me,” I replied. “That’s the problem.”

  Erika cleared her throat and looked back to the pan in front of her. Fuck, way to blow it, jackass. “Hope you don’t mind,” she said, “I took the, uh, liberty of preparing some breakfast. I figured you’d be hungry after last night, and we both have a long day ahead of us at the hospital. What time’s your first appointment?”

  I checked my watch. “8:00 a.m.,” I said. “So, I’ve got some time. This is real nice of you, Erika.”

  “It’s no biggie,” she replied as she slipped a few slices of bacon onto a plate. My mouth watered. “It’s the least I can do after you took me in. I’m eternally grateful for that.”

  How grateful? What was wrong with me? I’d gone from snapping at her to sexual innuendos. I sat down without replying and dragged the plate toward myself. She headed back to the stove, then walked over with another pan. “How many eggs?” she asked. “I’ve got three.”

  “Three it is, then,” I replied.

  She dished them up and padded back to the stove, leaving me to eat and check out her supple ass under the silk. Or on top of it. Goddamn, I couldn’t eat like this. I was too thirsty. My cock twitched again, rolled over in my pants, and I gritted my teeth, forced myself to look down at the bacon instead of at her.

  Erika hummed as she cooked her breakfast, then joined me a couple minutes later. She poured us each a glass of OJ and smiled.

  “Someone’s in a good mood this morning,” I said.

  “I’m always in a good mood when I get to cook, as ridiculous as that sounds. It’s just something that my mother and father both put a lot of emphasis on. Especially around Christmas.”

  “I remember,” I replied, “all the dinner parties, the normal parties. Your folks always had great food, and I don’t recall a caterer.” Not that I’d been paying much attention with Erika around to taunt me. “Were they always like that?”

  “Always,” Erika said, and took a bite of egg. “Ha, remember the time you came over for my father’s birthday? Your mom and dad, your brothers?”

  “Don’t.”

  But she was already on a roll. “And you were mocking me about the cake, because I’d prepared it. Had all those squiggly hearts in the frosting. And then—”

  “Erika,” I said, in a warning that was more joking than anything else.

  “And then Marc came up behind you and put that fake spider on your shoulder. You lost it!” Erika laughed and almost choked on her food. “And tripped, fell face first into my dad’s cake.”

  “You were furious.” I smiled at the memory now. Back then, when I’d been fourteen and full of shit, I’d been totally mortified. Horrified that my little plan to tease the crap out of Erika had backfired so horribly. Especially when the entire school found out.

  “I’d spent ages baking that cake. It wasn’t enough that you’d mocked me about it, then you went ahead and fell into it too? Come on.” But her lips turned up at the corners. “I’ll admit I thought it was hilarious and laughed about it later on.”

  I speared her with a look. “You write about it in your journal?”

  The fork stopped midway to her mouth. “Nice way to bring that up,” she murmured.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” I said. “I wasn’t thinking about—”

  “That night? The time you caught me burning your picture? Sure, buddy. I’m sure that’s not what you were referencing.”

  Man, when had she gotten this funny? And this sarcastic? It was a good color on her. “Not what I expected when I came over, I’ll admit.”

  “What did you expect?” Erika put down her fork and considered me. “I know you didn’t think I’d be happy to see you, after everything we went through.”

  “We?”

  “Fine, after all the shit you put me through.”

  “Hey!”

  Erika laughed, and there wasn’t a hint of bitterness there. It was a nice change from a month ago, from the way we’d spat at each other. “I didn’t expect you to walk in on me burning that picture,” she said.

  “I certainly didn’t expect to witness it. I was legitimately freaked out at first, ha, but then I dunno, I figured it was just you being you,” I replied.

  “You didn’t think I was doing some type of weird ritual thing?”

  “Oh, no, I totally did,” I replied and thoroughly enjoyed the consternation on her face. “T
hought you were casting a love spell on me.”

  “In your dreams, bucko.” Erika continued eating, and I watched her. She was almost too neat, cutting things into perfect little portions, eating them daintily, then chewing. Another thing about her that fascinated me.

  I ate in silence, enjoying the breakfast, and ignoring the questions and random warnings that popped up in my mind. Fuck it, why couldn’t I enjoy a meal she’d cooked for me in my kitchen? The very same kitchen I’d almost fucked her in last night.

  I cleared my throat, finished my meal, and downed the glass of OJ. “This was fantastic. Thanks, Erika. Not what I expected to wake up to.”

  “Seriously, it’s no problem. You’re the one who’s helping me out here.” Another smile from her.

  “Can I give you a ride to the hospital? Early appointments this morning?”

  She hesitated, thought it over, brow wrinkling up. “You know what? Sure, why not.” She got up and came over to collect my plate, but I caught her by the wrist.

  “You don’t need to do that,” I said. “I’ll wash up.”

  “Noah.”

  “I’m serious,” I said. “Least I can do after that kick-ass breakfast. You get ready for work, and I’ll take care of this.” Yet again, it came off as a command, and her eyes narrowed slightly. “Please,” I said, trying the word on for size. It fit, barely.

  Erika sighed. “All right. Thanks.” She skedaddled out of there in those too-small pj’s, and I finally let out a sigh of relief. Christ, it was a damn good thing I’d rubbed one out this morning, or I’d have been hard-pressed, excuse the fucking pun, not to have taken her over the kitchen island.

  I shoved my stool back, rose, and collected first my plate and then hers. I busied myself rinsing them off, prepping the dishwasher, and ignoring the constant pull toward the bathroom. Toward her. She was in there, right now, naked, soaping herself up.

  Christ, what if she was touching herself and thinking about me?

  I ignored the thoughts, tried to, and got the coffee machine going. That was all I needed. A stiff cup of coffee and a day full of work to take my mind off that vixen.