by Carrie Elks
“I hope you don’t mind eating here,” he said, twisting the wire cage off the champagne bottle and pulling at the cork. “We can go out if you prefer.”
She looked at the view, taking in the golden sand and the sparkling blue ocean. “This is perfect,” she told him. “And very convenient for getting home.”
He smirked. “That’s what I thought.” Pouring the champagne slowly into the two wine glasses, he waited for the fizz to retreat before handing her one of them and tipping his own against it.
“Here’s to the perfect weekend,” he murmured, lifting his glass to his lips.
“To the perfect weekend,” Meghan echoed. “And it’s only just begun.”
22
The first time they made love had been frantic and needy. Their emotions had been high and it was over far too soon.
But this time was like an opus. He teased her with his fingers, played her with his tongue, made her whole body sing until she wasn’t sure she could take anymore.
And then he slid inside her and she’d reached new, dizzy heights, clinging onto him and begging him not to stop.
His movements were slow, smooth, determined. Filling her up until she couldn’t think, then pulling back until she cried out for more. He held her face in his warm palms, kissing her softly as she cried out, swallowing each sigh as though he was hungry for more.
She loved the way he looked at her. As though she was some kind of precious stone in his hands. Or a winning lottery ticket held by the poorest of men. All she knew was that he made her feel like she was everything.
Perfect, desirable, the most beautiful woman in the world. Like a goddess he wanted to worship forever.
She could feel him swell inside her, his movements faster, more edgy. His kisses were more demanding, his skin hot against her palms as she slid them down his back. He reached between her legs, touching her most sensitive spot and she gasped.
“I’m not sure I can again…”
“One more time,” he urged. The corner of his lip curled as he circled her softly, knowing how tender she was there. And to her surprise she could feel the quickening inside her, her muscles tensing and shaking as he brought her to the edge.
She felt so full. So tight. The pleasure rippled to the tips of her toes, making him smile as she arched her back from the bed. He slid his hand beneath her, supporting her, as he suddenly stilled inside her.
“Meg…” he breathed, his eyes closing as he surged, letting her go a minute later when they both came back to earth.
He jumped out of bed, and she heard him wash his hands before he sauntered back to bed, with a warm wash cloth he used to care for her.
“Like a bed bath,” she murmured, smiling. “Your bedside manner has game.”
He grinned. “I’m all about a quick recovery. That way we can get you back in the game quickly.”
She laid back on the bed, her head soft against the pillow. “My game’s over. You’ve wrung me dry. I’ve got nothing left to give.”
“Is that right?” He cleaned the top of her thighs, then the warmest part of her, and damn if she didn’t feel the tingles again. What was this man doing to her?
“Do you ever think it’s unfair that a woman can orgasm multiple times, but a guy can only do it once?” she asked, as he pressed his lips to her shoulder and took the cloth back to the bathroom. A moment later he was climbing back into bed with her, pulling her against him so her head rested on his warm, bare chest.
“I think it’s fucking hot,” he told her. “I love giving you multiple orgasms.”
It was weird, but she knew he was telling the truth. She almost thought he’d give up his own orgasm if he could keep giving them to her. She’d never met a man so intent on giving his partner pleasure before.
Not that she was complaining.
Nope, this weekend was already getting a five star review from her, and it was only Friday.
Accommodation – top notch. Beautifully furnished apartment.
Dinner – perfectly cooked and excellent ambiance.
Other services – highly recommended. If you know what I mean.
“What are you smiling at?” he asked her, pressing his lips against her hair.
“I’m just wondering if I should give you a Tripadvisor review.”
“Is that right?” He arched an eyebrow. “I hope I get scored excellent on all counts.”
She rolled to her side, a smile curling her lips. “Oh you definitely do.”
“Glad to hear it. Do come back and stay again.” He grabbed for her, making her squeal. “Now let me show you how accommodating I can really be.”
There was nothing sexier than seeing Meghan Hart wearing his t-shirt as she sat on his balcony drinking her Sunday morning coffee. Rich leaned on the wall outside the bathroom, lazily rubbing his freshly-washed hair with a soft towel, his lower body stirring as he watched her stretch out her lithe legs and prop them up on the chair in front of her.
When Meghan worked yesterday, he’d hung around and helped her at the ice cream shop for a while, then when it quietened he’d gone for a swim and to meet James and Harper for lunch, before picking Meghan up later that afternoon.
It had been an amazing day, followed by a perfect evening, and he was beginning to understand why so many of his doctor friends lived for their time off with their families. The sun had shone bright, his heart had been fucking melted by the woman who made the best ice cream in the world, and then last night she’d brought him to his knees – literally – with just her fingers and her lips.
And he couldn’t get enough of her.
There was this draw to her he couldn’t ignore. She was the better part of him. They had so much in common. They’d both been forced to grow up at an early age, become responsible for another life before they’d really started to live their own. But unlike him, Meghan had found a balance that made her seem content. She didn’t live for her work, even though she enjoyed it. It wasn’t her escape, because she didn’t need one.
Pulling open the refrigerator, he grabbed a carton of orange juice and poured himself a glass, emptying it in one swallow. Meghan turned, the sunlight reflecting on her bare thighs, a smile pulling at her kiss-swollen lips as she saw him standing in the kitchen. She went to stand but he gestured for her to stay sitting, walking out to the balcony to join her.
Her eyes scanned his naked torso, and they darkened enough to make him want her all over again.
“You’re not going to do your reputation any good standing out here half naked,” she said, her voice light. “There’ll be a gaggle of admirers staring up at you any minute.”
“You have my t-shirt,” he pointed out. “So it’s your fault.”
“You want me to take it off?” Her voice was teasing, but it didn’t stop him from imagining her perfect body beneath the cotton fabric. He’d kissed and licked her breasts last night until she’d arched her body beneath him, begging him to touch her where she needed him most.
And then he’d slid inside her, his eyes squeezing shut as the sensation overtook him. He had to take a deep breath for the blood not to rush to his groin at the memory.
“I’ll take it back when we’re inside.” And like the sap he was, he probably wouldn’t wash it for a while. “Right now it looks too good on you.”
Her smile widened, and he took the chair next to hers, inclining his head until she got the message and joined him there, sitting on his lap.
Curling her arms around his neck, she nuzzled against him, her breath heated as he hardened against her. She blinked at the sensation, a smile curling her lips.
“You can’t be serious. I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk for a week.”
Damn, he liked that he’d left her aching. “I could carry you everywhere.”
She laughed. “Wouldn’t that get people talking?”
“Let them.” He shrugged. “I don’t give a damn what anybody else thinks.”
“That’s because you’re a guy and peop
le don’t talk about you the way they talk about women. Especially single moms.”
Rich tipped his head to the side, brushing a lock of her flaming hair behind her ear. “People talk about you?”
“All the time. Especially when Isla was younger. They’d ask if I was her sister and then act all surprised when I said I was her mom. When I’d walk away I’d hear the whispers, and I’d try to keep my spine straight and my shoulders held back. There’s this strange mix of judgment and sympathy for single moms, and I didn’t want either of them.”
“Why are people like that?” He frowned, feeling protective at the thought of her facing that alone. “When I look at you all I see is this kick ass mom and businesswoman. Who happens to look damn hot in my t-shirt.”
She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. He breathed her in, shifting because his hardness was almost painful now.
“Because traditionally we’re supposed to be all things. Virgins in public and whores in bed. Business women in the boardroom and superwomen in the house. And we’re our own worst enemies because we judge others for not reaching those heights. Instead of wondering why we set the bar that high in the first place.”
Rich ran his tongue over his bottom lip. She was right. When he’d helped bring up Belle there hadn’t been judgment at all. If anything he’d gotten praise for being such a devoted brother, for going to her school shows or driving her to art class. Simple things that anybody would do – yet somehow he was superman.
Whereas Meghan was judged everywhere she turned.
“That sucks.” He brushed his lips against hers. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s getting better every year. And by the time Isla’s a grown up, I hope that things will be better still. And I wouldn’t change my life with her for the world.”
He stroked his hand down her side and along her bare thigh, loving the way her lips parted and a little sigh escaped. “Talking of equality, how are you at DIY?” he asked, tracing circles over her skin.
She shifted in his lap, her eyelids heavy. “Why?”
“Because I’m thinking of knocking a hole between your bedroom and mine. It’s the easiest way.” He stroked her inner thigh with his thumb, making her squirm against him.
Her eyes sparkled. “A glory hole?”
He burst out laughing, curling his hands around her leg. “No. A glory hole’s only fun for one person. What I want to do involves both of us.”
“Have you ever used a glory hole?” she asked, tipping her head to the side.
“Never.” His brows knitted. “What do you take me for?”
“A thirty-six year old guy who’s way more experienced in life than I am. And in sex.” She swallowed, a chink of insecurity shining through.
“Does that worry you?” he asked. “That I’m more experienced than you?”
“It didn’t worry me last night.” She grinned. “But I guess I worry that I don’t know how to please you enough.”
His throat thickened. “You pleased me.” His voice was thick and graveled at the memory. “You don’t need to worry about that.”
She kissed his neck again, and he tipped back his head, a low groan vibrating down his throat. He pulled her closer, until her legs straddled his thighs, her auburn waves cascading down his white t-shirt, his excitement so solid it was almost painful.
“So it’s no to the hole?” he said, bunching her hair in his hand and pressing his lips to the dip in her shoulder.
“Definitely no.” She laughed. “Our landlord would have a fit.”
“I guess we’ll have to do it the old fashioned way. Me knocking at the door.”
“I guess we will.” Her eyes were soft. “How boring.”
“You’re the one who wants to take it slowly,” he pointed out, a smile playing at his lips.
“At least when Isla’s around, I do. We need to play it cool where she’s concerned.” Meghan leaned her brow against his shoulder, and he stroked her hair, the silky strands slipping through his fingers.
“Like the opposite to before when you pretended to be my girlfriend.” His lips twitched at the irony of it. And yeah, there was a part of him that wanted to shout about this thing with her to the world. To rush everything because the feelings rushing through him felt too strong to ignore.
She looked at him through her thick lashes. Damn, she was beautiful. Her high cheekbones were so defined he could cut his lips on them. He could get lost in her eyes if he let himself.
He wanted to bottle up this moment so he could save it forever. When life got shit, he could pull it out, remember how it felt to be sitting on his balcony on a warm Sunday morning, his girl in his arms, smiling up at him, her body warm and soft and so damn welcoming.
“We have an hour before we need to go,” he said, deepening his grip on her thigh. “Anything you want to do?”
Her lips curled. “I guess I could go home and clean my apartment.”
“Yeah, you could,” he agreed slowly. “But you won’t.”
With a single movement, he stood, lifting her up with him so her legs wrapped around his thighs. His hands held her behind, his body surging when he felt the bare softness of her skin beneath her shirt, as he turned on his heels and carried her back inside.
Meghan squealed with delight, tipping her head back with laughter as he kicked open his bedroom door and lay her down on the mattress.
“No cleaning then?”
He shook his head. “No cleaning. Right now I’m all about being dirty.”
23
“You really don’t need to do this,” Gloria said, her brows pinched together as Meghan swept her kitchen floor the following Wednesday. “I’m right as rain now. The doctor said so.”
“He also said you should take it easy,” Meghan pointed out. “Including getting someone to help with cleaning. And while you’re looking for someone I can help out. I don’t mind at all.”
She’d already finished the bathroom and bedrooms, and in ten minutes or so the kitchen would be sparkling as well. Isla was doing her best to distract Gloria from Meghan’s movements by playing a round of crazy eights with her, but Gloria was still frowning.
“I don’t like getting old,” she muttered. “I’m the one who helps everybody else.”
“You do help us.” Meghan smiled. “We’re neighbors, we help each other.”
Gloria looked at her carefully. “Speaking of neighbors…”
Meghan shook her head, looking pointedly at Isla. Thank goodness Gloria took the hint. “Isla,” she said, turning to the little girl. “I have a new postcard from Kevin and Grant. It’s got a picture of a train on it. Do you know what it’s called?”
“What?” Isla asked smiling.
“The devil’s nose. Isn’t that a funny name for a train?”
“Can I see it?”
Gloria nodded, her expression pleased. “Of course. It’s in my bedroom drawer. There are some more in there, too. Why don’t you take a look? I want to talk to your mom anyway.”
Isla skipped off to Gloria’s bedroom, closing the door behind her, the sound of an opening drawer echoing through the room. Meghan carried on sweeping, biting down her own smile because she knew the onslaught was coming.
Nothing escaped Gloria. She should have been a detective.
“So you and Rich?” Gloria asked, shuffling the cards together.
“What about us?” Meghan asked casually, enjoying Gloria’s curiosity.
“I saw you coming out of his apartment on Sunday morning.” Gloria put the cards down on the table. “Wearing just a t-shirt.”
“Sunday?” Meghan stopped sweeping and tipped her head to the side, as though she was thinking about it. “Hmm, was that the day it was really warm?”
“Yes. It got up to eighty. Wasn’t it lovely?”
“It was,” Meghan agreed. “So lovely I had to strip down to a t-shirt. I was probably borrowing one from Rich.”
Gloria huffed, shaking her head. “Are you two a thing or what?”
M
eghan’s lips twitched at her neighbor’s sudden directness. She glanced at the bedroom door, relieved to see it still closed. “It’s complicated,” Meghan said. “And I don’t want Isla worrying about things.”
“Of course you don’t.” Gloria sat back, crossing her arms over her ample chest. She looked delighted to be proved right. “Anything you say will stay between us, I promise.”
Leaning against the kitchen counter, Meghan rested the broom in her palm. “You look awfully pleased about it.”
“All I can say is that every time I’ve seen Rich this week he’s had a huge smile on his face.” Gloria shrugged. “I haven’t seen him this happy in a very long time. I knew there had to be a reason behind it, and I was pretty certain that reason was you.” She rubbed her hands together. “I love it when I’m proved right.”
“I’m happy to be of service.” Meghan grinned. It was stupid how pleased Gloria’s words made her. She’d been pretty much the same. Floating through her days like her feet didn’t quite touch the ground. The memory of their weekend together was like a turbo boost to her happiness.
He’d been working nights, but he’d called her from the ER every evening before she went to bed. Just hearing his voice made her giddy, as she told him about her day and he regaled her with stories about the patients he’d seen.
And yesterday they’d bumped into each other in the hallway as she and Isla were heading out to school and Rich was coming home from his shift. He hadn’t bothered to change out of his scrubs and he was a little sleepy and rumpled as he walked out of the elevator, his lips curling into a lazy grin when he saw them standing there.
Damn if that smile hadn’t sent shivers down her spine.
“Mommy, what’s a copacksy?” Isla asked, scurrying out of Gloria’s bedroom with a bunch of postcards in her hand.