Fever Cure

by Phillipa Ashley

  Tom reached for the shower control and turned it down. The torrent quietened to a stream. “These need special attention,” he husked out as she arched her back, pushing her breasts forward. Her nipples stood to attention as he rubbed them gently with the soap, then dropped a blob of foam on each with his finger.

  He handed her the soap as water dripped down his face. “Your turn…” Her hands shook as she took the slippery bar and rubbed it tentatively over his chest, where the dark hair was flat around his nipples. She bent her head and flicked her tongue over them, his groan of delight shooting desire through her. She washed his stomach, paying special attention to the ridges of lean, hard muscle.

  “Oh!”

  The soap shot out of her hands into the shower tray.

  Oh damn! She’d not even got to the most important part. Reaching for him with slippery hands, she closed her fingers around him. Could he get any harder, any bigger? He pulsed against her gentle grip and moaned.

  Oh yes, he could.

  “That’s it,” he groaned, fumbling for the shower control. “I can’t stand anymore.”

  The sudden silence filled her head as starkly as the noise. There was only the swish of the cubicle door and the faint drip, drip of the showerhead. Keira couldn’t see much through the fine mist that clouded the bathroom. Tom grabbed her hand and hauled her, trembling with need, into the bedroom.

  She bumped a shin against the dressing stool as he dragged her towards his bed. The carpet was sodden as she trod in his wet footprints. The cool air after the heat of the shower zinged her dripping skin, and she was shocked, joyous at his response to her.

  Silk brushed her calves as he swiped stray clothes from the coverlet of his bed. Then she lay pressed against the cover, with the glorious weight of his body on top of her. His kiss now had nothing gentle about it. It was urgent, forceful and demanding. And she was just as greedy to taste him, to have her lips bruised by sweetness. Her hair soaked the satin covers, the pillows, everywhere. Water ran off his chest and fell onto her bare breasts.

  All at once, he knelt above her, dark and powerfully aroused. He spread her thighs apart and dropped his head. As he parted her folds, she stiffened, then arched her back to invite his velvet tongue. Oh and how he tormented her, punishing her with hard, insistent strokes. Moistening the swollen bud of her clit with a gentle lick, then feathering it with a cool breath.

  “Mmmm…”

  As he licked, she fisted the silk cover in her hands and moaned. Screwed her eyes tight as the sensation built around the tightening, swollen bud, spreading through her limbs in pulsating waves of pleasure and torment. Her knuckles ached as she bunched the coverlet.

  The soft tearing of foil made her open her eyes. Tom’s face was suffused with hungry desire, and his hands shook as he ripped open the packet and took out a condom.

  “I want you so much.” His voice held a tremor as he reached out a hand to tease a wet strand of hair off her face. Keira spread her legs wider. There was no going back now.

  She heard the sharp intake of breath, heard the savage urgency in his voice. “Touch yourself…touch yourself there…” he panted as he sheathed himself.

  Arching her back, Keira slipped her fingertips into her heat, feeling how swollen and slick she was from Tom’s stroking. He watched, open-mouthed, chest heaving for a second or two. Then all at once, his glorious weight was on top of her once more, and he eased himself between her thighs and pushed his hard length inside her.

  “Sweet hell on earth…” he murmured. Keira clutched his back, feeling her orgasm build as he nudged deeper. It was such a tight fit, even though she was slick and dewy. He licked a drop of water from her lips.

  “Keira…”

  She clamped her legs around his buttocks and dug her nails into his back.

  “Like that, is it?”

  “Hmm.”

  He thrust into her hard, and she cried out as hot waves engulfed her. Tom, buried deep inside her slick heat, felt her throbbing around him. Was this what it was like to want to possess a woman utterly, totally? To fill her up until she could hardly bear it? To want to be part of her, body and soul? He groaned as his chest tightened, knowing in some small part of his fast-dissolving consciousness, that this was much more than lust or need or want. Then his own climax followed, blowing everything away and sending him into oblivion.

  Hours later, limp and wrecked with lovemaking, and needing another shower, Keira lay, staring at the dark windowpane opposite the bed. Rain was still running down the sash as the wind whipped a twig against the glass. The cotton sheets brushed against her naked skin, and facedown next to her, one arm flung over the pillow, the sheet barely touching his thighs, lay Tom.

  Still nude, still magnificent and still with the amazing tattoo.

  And she had slept with him.

  She wondered at herself, at how she, of all people, who had once been branded dull and timid, had taken such a risk. Making love with him had brought an intense intimacy between them that would, one day soon, have to be paid for.

  But not yet.

  Now was the time to share each other’s bodies joyously and without fear.

  Softly, half afraid, half hoping she’d wake him, she reached out and lightly, so lightly, began to trace a path across the strange design that branded his body. Stirring, he pushed out a long, deep breath.

  Keira lifted her hand from his skin as he shifted his head to face her. His eyes gleamed with amusement and daring.

  Keira wanted to blush but realised it was probably way too late for that. The things they had done together—new things—had made her feel bolder, more confident. She thought she’d enjoyed sex before, for a time. And it wasn’t as if Alex had been rough or uncaring, not until that last night. In fact, she had to admit, Tom was much more forceful in the physical sense. The way he’d dragged her from the shower and thrust her onto the bed, ordered her to touch herself… She had never experienced that kind of urgent, demanding passion before.

  Yet, somehow, Tom’s lovemaking had infinitely more tenderness about it. It held a sweetness and eroticism that had overwhelmed her reason and made her desperate to pleasure him back…and she would. In their brief time together, she would learn how to please him every bit as much as he’d pleased her.

  She let him pull her to him, his body feeling hard and comforting against her own soft curves. Pushing a stray strand of hair out of her eyes with his thumb, Tom dropped a soft kiss on her forehead. “Much as I’d like to stay here all night, we must live. Are you hungry?”

  Her stomach rumbled. “I had no lunch, only a bite of cheese sandwich, and I’ve done lots of exercise.”

  “Let’s go and eat, then. I’m absolutely starving.”

  “What about my clothes?”

  “Who needs them?” he asked mischievously, then at her open mouth, added: “I’ll put them in the washer-dryer. They’ll be done by morning.”

  “You’re being presumptuous again.”

  “Damn right I am. Now, do you want any food or not?”

  He climbed out of bed and went into the en suite, returning with a navy cotton robe.

  “Don’t you ever shut your curtains?” asked Keira as he stood next to the bed, clearly reflected in the sash window.

  “What’s the point? We don’t have any neighbours, and frankly, I’m not ashamed to walk around naked in my own home.”

  She laughed out loud. “It’s Charlie’s house, remember?”

  “Whatever,” he said, holding out the robe. “Now, will this cover your modesty, my lady?”

  She pushed back the sheet and shuffled over the bed. “It’s a bit big, and I hadn’t got you down as a robe man. But then again, I can always be surprised.”

  With a frown, Tom glanced down at the dark blue material. “It was a Christmas present from my mother.”

  “That explains a lot.” She laughed, climbing off the bed and allowing him to drape it round her shoulders. Slipping her arms into the sleeves, she found her fin
gertips barely reached the end. While calf-length on a guy of Tom’s stature, it brushed her toes. The sleeves had to be rolled back several times and the belt wrapped around her twice. “Are you going to do the cooking like that?” she asked, staring at his naked body.

  “Perhaps not.”

  She watched as he hunted down the battered jeans from the floor and sat on the bed, pulling them over his legs. No boxer shorts were considered necessary, no T-shirt, shoes or socks.

  “Come on, then,” he said as he saw her studying him. “Before I change my mind about dinner, madam, and have you instead.”

  Having settled Keira in front of the banked-up fire with a glass of white wine, Tom bundled her jeans and T-shirt into the washing machine. Her knickers and bra went in too. He knew vaguely that the combination might have contraindications, but frankly, he didn’t care. He was perfectly capable of washing his own clothes, but as for the niceties of laundry, he couldn’t give a toss. Besides, he had other things on his mind, and they were thoughts both disturbing and comforting in equal measure.

  He set to grilling the steak and unearthing what green things he could find. A couple of baked potatoes and the remains of a pre-packed salad would have to do.

  He’d refused all offers of help from Keira and had ushered her out of the kitchen once already. He needed time to think, even though he knew it was way too late for caution now. The time for thinking had been this afternoon when he’d run past the playground or accepted a lift home in her car. Part of him told himself he had nothing to reproach himself for. She had come to him. He’d been perfectly honest and open about his intentions, and still, she wanted him. What had he got to feel guilty about?

  A lot, actually… A hell of a lot.

  He cursed himself as he became aware of the aroma of the broiling steak and whipped the grill pan out. Another minute and they’d have been past their best. They were well done as it was, but they’d have to do. He slid them onto a plate and rescued the potatoes from the microwave. He found a tub of soured cream in the fridge and heaped a blob into each one. Then ground black pepper onto the cream. It was hardly haute cuisine but never mind. He’d had a hell of a lot worse at public school.

  Dinner was the least of his worries. He hoped Keira would forgive him for everything else.

  “So, the Honourable Doctor Tom does the washing and cooking,” Keira teased him as she sat on the sofa, trays on their laps.

  “I do wish you wouldn’t call me that,” he complained, cutting into his steak.

  “Which bit? Honourable or a doctor?”

  “Both. And besides, when you’ve lived in the rainforest, Keira, anyone can do anything.”

  She sipped her white wine.

  “Maybe,” she said. “Maybe in a practical sense.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing,” she replied, spearing a morsel of steak and popping it in her mouth.

  “Well?” he asked.

  The meat almost melted in her mouth. “You can cook a mean steak, I’ll give you that…” she mumbled

  “But the jury’s out on the rest of me?”

  “I’m afraid you get a C-minus for laundry. Verging on a detention.”

  Tom sliced cleanly into his meat and stabbed a piece. He held it poised on his knife and gave her a very knowing look, daring her to carry on with the game. “I’m not sure that kind of talk will really improve my behaviour. In fact, I’m beginning to wonder if I might have ruined all your clothes.”

  She placed her knife and fork down carefully on the tray, feeling her appetite ebbing away as desire swirled in her stomach. “In that case, it’s detention, I’m afraid. After dinner. In your bedroom.”

  Stop looking at me like that, she thought, picking up her knife again with unsteady fingers. “As for the rest, I’ll do you a detailed report at the end of term.” She pointed to her empty glass with her knife and gave him what she hoped was a sweet smile of encouragement. “Now, could I have more wine, please?”

  Later, curled up against him on the sofa, the empty wine bottle on the floor beside her, she felt Tom slip a hand inside her robe and cup a breast. As her nipple beaded against his fingers, she felt the heat rise between her thighs and squirmed.

  His other arm slid inside to weigh the other breast. Keira laid her small hand over his and stilled it. Her heart quickened with anticipation and nerves. “No… There’s something I want to do.”

  She released herself from his arms and pushed herself to her feet on cotton wool legs.

  His eyes were like midnight and his voice hoarse as he gazed up at her, standing nervously between his legs. “Am I going to like this?”

  “I hope so,” she murmured, loosening the tie belt and taking hold of the lapels of the robe in both hands. She let it fall from her shoulders and slide down her body to lie on the thick carpet. The pleasure that bloomed in his eyes as he surveyed her naked body told her everything.

  He reached for her, but she pushed his hands back to rest by his side and caught her breath. She had never been the most adventurous lover; now here she was stripping wantonly in front of Tom, deliberately tantalizing and teasing him.

  She pushed his thighs apart and knelt in front of him. Heat from the fire whispered against her back as a log split and crackled in the hearth. Her fingers fumbled with the buckle on his belt, the leather stiff and unyielding, but she managed and then moved on to the metal button. Freeing it from the buttonhole, she laid her fingers on the zip as Tom gave a sigh of surprise and anticipation.

  The zip eased down with a whirr, parting to reveal the soft hair around his hardening erection. Tom helped her along by sliding farther down the sofa so she could tug his jeans over his hips.

  “I want to taste you.” She closed her eyes.

  He felt her kiss between his thighs before she closed her mouth around him.

  He let out a groan of pleasure.

  She stopped, and he ached to feel her swollen lips on him again. What was he doing to them both? Where was his conscience? But as Keira’s full mouth closed around him again, he lost all reason. The sensation of her tongue gently exploring him washed away everything else. He shifted his hips as a warm wave of feeling rippled through his body.

  Chapter Ten

  Tom squinted at the sunlight slanting in through the sash windows of his bedroom. After two years in the southern hemisphere, he had thought he would never get used to the darkness of northern winter, when some days it never got beyond a dim gloom.

  Uncharacteristically, today was bright and sparkling.

  He turned his head to the clock beside the bed and blinked. “You’re awake, then, lazybones?”

  Her arms slid around his chest, hugging him, her feet massaging the backs of his calves. It felt bloody fantastic. He felt bloody fantastic.

  “How long have I been asleep?” he murmured as she snuggled tighter against his spine. She murmured against his back. “Oh…I don’t know. Maybe since midnight. You dragged me up here and then fell asleep, but I won’t hold it against you. It is Sunday morning. You can have a lie-in, you know.”

  He flipped himself over until he faced her.

  “I haven’t done lie-ins since I was a boy, when I had to be hauled out of bed by my mother or one of the staff in the school holidays.”

  He reached for her and held her in his arms, and realised what was so different about this Sunday morning. He was perfectly, completely rested, and it felt so right.

  “Keira…”

  She lifted her head off his chest, blue eyes gazing at him expectantly.

  “Get dressed, please. I want to make you breakfast.”

  While Tom showered, she pulled her clothes from the airing cupboard and shook her head. Her once-white bra and knickers were a delicate shade of grey-blue. Her dark T-shirt had survived, though. Tom might be able to grill a steak and suture a wound, but he was positively dangerous with a washing machine.

  She had just fastened up her bra when he emerged, dripping from
his shower, out onto the landing. “You found them, then,” he said sheepishly. “I put them in there to dry late last night. I’m sorry, laundry is clearly not my strong point. I’ll buy you some new ones.”

  “It’s okay.” She smiled, enjoying his embarrassment. “And you know what? When it comes to washing, practice makes perfect.”

  Keira sat patiently at the kitchen table while he unearthed the end of a loaf and a slab of butter. He made fresh coffee and got out plates and cutlery, refusing any help.

  Hmmm, a night in bed sure made you hungry, she thought, selecting another slice of toast and biting into it. She licked a trail of butter from her mouth. Bare chested and bare footed, Tom stood with his back to the sink, sipping coffee. He looked thoughtful, serious, even.

  She drained her mug, wincing at the bitter last drops.

  “More?” he asked.

  “Yes. Why not?”

  She didn’t really want any coffee, but it saved the conversation from turning awkward. Rescuing the pot from the machine, Tom refilled her mug and sat at the scrubbed farmhouse table.

  “Keira, about the washing.”

  The washing, ha, now that was a topic she hadn’t expected. “Tom, it really doesn’t matter.”

  He toyed with a teaspoon. “I’m just avoiding the issue. Look, I think we should get a few things straight. What I’m trying to say is—”

  “—this was all a mistake and I should go home now?”

  “No!” The strength of his denial made her jump. “Good grief, no,” he said, stretching out for her hand. “Quite the opposite, in fact.” He caressed the lace of veins in the back of her hand with a fingertip as he spoke. “We both know we can only have a short time together but…” His eyes met hers as she waited for him to continue, heart fluttering. She wasn’t going to give it to him on a plate; she wanted him to ask.