TOO HOT TO HANDLE

by Robin Kaye

  "What are you doing?"

  He set her on the cold marble countertop and stayed between her legs as he opened the medicine cabinet. "Looking for condoms. I'm hoping Nick left some here from before he and Rosalie moved out."

  "You really don't have any?"

  He moved things around, searching from bottom to top. "Do you honestly think I'd be searching the bathroom if I had condoms in my wallet?" He took out her birth control pills. "Are these yours?"

  "Yeah." Note to self: now would be a good time to start taking them again.

  "So you didn't practice safe sex?"

  "With Johnny? Hell yeah, I did."

  "But you were engaged to him."

  "And I caught the jerk cheating on me."

  Mike stopped what he was doing and turned the force of his attention to her. He placed one hand on her shoulder and slid it to the back of her neck and into her hair, tipping her head back. She couldn't avoid those eyes burning into hers. Mike's other hand wrapped around her waist and tugged her closer against him. "The man is a fool."

  Annabelle swallowed hard. "It's for the best. Things were never good between us. He said I was frigid."

  Mike laughed. "You're joking, right?"

  "No, I'm not."

  "You're serious?"

  "It's not the kind of thing I'd brag about. I mean, it's not like I've had too much experience, but with my only two relationships, well, I never … things were nothing like this."

  "Why would you want to marry a man you didn't want sexually?"

  "At the risk of giving you a big head or coming off sounding, I don't know, stupid, fake, or like a total brownnoser. I never knew it could be like this. It's unnatural wanting you like I do."

  She'd have had to be blind to miss the look of disbelief that crossed his face. She felt like smacking him. So, she did.

  Mike rubbed his arm. "Hey, I didn't say anything."

  "You didn't have to. Look, no one is as shocked as I am at the way I respond to you. All this time, I thought there was something wrong with me. Even with my first boyfriend, I never liked it. I mean, I did it when I had to, but it's not like I enjoyed it. I thought all the sex in romance novels was fictional. Who knew?"

  Annabelle, frigid? That wasn't a description Mike would ever use. Hot, beautiful, an active participant, sexy as hell. Yeah, like right now. He felt her heat, he smelled her excitement, and the way she stared at him with a pulsing hunger—her eyes dilated, her lips wet and swollen, her face flushed—was enough to have him breathing heavy. Frigid? Never with him.

  She'd sure enjoyed it when they'd made love the first time—correction, the first three times. She'd been a little tipsy … okay, maybe she'd been drunk, but that hadn't diminished her amazing reaction to him. And, right now, she was doing a damn good impression of someone who liked sex a whole lot.

  "You're the least frigid woman I've ever been with."

  Well, he must have said the right thing, because she not only gave him a heart-melting smile, she started unbuttoning his shirt. An improvement over the other night when she'd pulled some of the buttons off, but it didn't excite him in the same way. He'd never had a woman rip his shirt off before, but then he'd never ripped a woman's dress off, either. Maybe she wasn't the only one who took things to a new, heretofore unexplored level.

  The word "condom" repeated in Mike's head like a mantra while he ignored the way Annabelle's hands roamed over his chest. He sucked a lungful of air in when her fingers tripped over his ribs, and that same air shot out when they hit his stomach.

  When she fumbled with his belt, he searched the drawers. There had to be a condom somewhere. He'd never made love without one. Ever. But looking at Annabelle licking her lips made him want to do anything but run to a drugstore. The woman had more creams and body butters than he'd ever known existed, but no condoms. When she tugged the elastic of his jockeys, he needed to take the search elsewhere. He kissed her, picked her up, hoping his jeans wouldn't slip down while he carried her to bed, and prayed there were condoms in the bedside table.

  A man was actually carrying her to bed, and Annabelle wasn't dreading it. Wow, that was a shocker. She didn't know what to do. She'd always avoided this very situation, and when she'd been unsuccessful, spent all her time wishing it were over. This time, with Mike, she never wanted it to end—another new experience for her.

  Mike laid her on the bed and followed her down. His belt buckle jabbed into her, so she scooted back and pushed his pants down while he was busy untying her robe. His eyes glazed over when he got a load of her little lace baby-doll nightie. Thank you, Victoria's Secret! She checked to make sure everything was still in the right places and saw why he stared. The deep V halter was doing its job on the cleavage front, and the rest, what little there was of it, was clingy, stretchy, and altogether naughty. Apparently Mike was a fan of naughty.

  With jerky movements, Mike turned, grabbed the knob on the bedside table drawer, and pulled so hard the drawer and everything in it fell to the ground. As if in slow motion, BOB—the fluorescent purple, pearl-embedded, silicone penis—bounced once and landed on Mike's foot.

  He burst out laughing, and Annabelle prayed she'd disappear. Unfortunately, her prayers were rarely answered. She covered her face, the heat radiating off it burning her hands.

  "Oh thank God. Or in this case, thank Nick."

  Annabelle peeked between her fingers and saw Mike holding an accordion-folded string of condom packets in one hand and BOB in his other. He thrust BOB toward her. "Friend of yours?"

  "No."

  Mike looked like the guy on Dirty Jobs when he found out he had to stick his hand in a septic tank or something equally gross. She half expected him to drop it. Annabelle hugged herself but couldn't look at him. Unfortunately, the only other thing to look at was BOB.

  "I mean, yes, it's mine—"

  He smiled.

  "Oh, good. I thought it was … never mind. I really don't want to go there."

  "It was a gift. I never … I just didn't know what to do with it."

  Mike gave her one of his you-gotta-be-kidding looks, complete with raised eyebrow and cocky smirk. "You need instructions?"

  "No. I meant I didn't know where to put it."

  There it was again, the same smirk. She wanted to hit him again, only harder. Then she realized what she'd said and groaned before throwing herself down on the bed, rolling over, and burying her face in the pillows. Maybe he'd leave, and she could die of embarrassment in peace.

  Instead of leaving, though, he sat beside her and gently pushed her hair off her back. "Belle, there's nothing to be embarrassed about." Mike ran his hand down from her neck, over her butt, to the back of her knees, and then slowly made the trip back up. Annabelle didn't know how to get out of the present situation, short of locking herself in the bathroom. She hadn't pulled that particular disappearing act since the day she'd come home with her first boyfriend and found that her cat, Saucy, had gotten into her new tampons and thought they made perfect cat toys. Plastic-wrapped tampons lined the living room. She'd been mortified then. Now was worse.

  "Belle, look at me. Come on." He rolled her over like a rag doll. Not that she resisted, but she certainly didn't help. The pillow she held over her face began to smother her. Good thing Mike pried her hands off it and pushed it aside. When she opened her eyes, his were drinking her in. From what she could glean by the look on his face and the slashes of color on his cheekbones, Mike wasn't turned off by the fact she had a BOB—just the opposite.

  She pushed herself onto her elbows, and Mike swallowed hard. His Adam's apple bobbed. He threw BOB down, freeing his hands, toed off his shoes, and quickly disposed of his socks. Annabelle tugged the shirt off his shoulders, and when he stood to step out of his pants, she started on his jockeys. He quickly took over, and before she could move to the center of the bed, he crawled over her with a look in his eyes she'd never seen on any other man. It could only be described as predatory. He was so big, and not only in the tall and
broad sense of the word. He was big. So big and so hard, she wasn't sure he would fit. Sure, in the back of her mind she knew they'd already had sex, but she didn't remember much about it except the feeling of exquisite fullness, and of course, the memory of bliss she was pretty sure was caused by an orgasm, something she'd never before experienced.

  Mike lay on his side next to her and pulled her toward him so they faced each other. He ran his hands through her hair, cupping the back of her head and drawing her toward him.

  "Kiss me."

  That she could do. And she did. She wasn't used to kissing men. Being kissed by them, sure, but kissing them—not so much. Was she supposed to close her eyes first? She decided no. She wanted to see as much of him as possible, so she kept her eyes wide open and touched her lips to his. He rolled her over on top of him. His hands drew her legs up to straddle him, his breath catching when his cock came into contact with her very damp panties. The way it pressed against her had her moaning, and when she moved, he moaned too. Mike grabbed her hips and raised his off the bed just as their tongues collided and something hot and heavy settled down low in her abdomen. She moved against him, sucking his tongue and feeling unleashed. Her chest pressed against his, her fingernails scratched his scalp, and all she could think of was the feeling of fullness she remembered. She wanted that now, and he hadn't even gotten her nightie off. His hand ran beneath her panties, over her butt, and continued down. When he drove his finger deep inside her, she heard a mewing and realized the sound had come from her. She opened her eyes to find him watching her. "It's okay, just let go."

  Let go? What did that mean? Then he raised his hips and inserted another finger. The friction increased when she moved. Annabelle ground against him, and then she swore she saw stars. She was on fire and melting at the same time. Every muscle in her body tensed, and then wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her, each more intense than the last. She could do nothing but hold on while he continued to move beneath her and within her. She couldn't think, she couldn't breathe, and when she screamed, she didn't even have it in her to be embarrassed.

  Annabelle collapsed on Mike. The sound of his heartbeat thundering beneath her ear kept time with hers. She couldn't remember ever feeling so relaxed, her limbs were like jelly. In the back of her mind, she knew she should do something—move, say thank you, something—but she was incapable. When she finally came back to reality, she took stock. Mike hypnotically moved his fingers over her back, tracing the edge of her nightie where skin met lace. She lifted her heavy head and saw the smile on his face. She couldn't help but smile too.

  "Welcome back."

  "Thanks." Annabelle scooted up, stretched out like a cat in a patch of sun, and kissed him. She took her time exploring his lips, the sharpness of his teeth, the way his breathing changed when she challenged him for control, the feel of his heart hammering against her hand, and the way the muscles of his shoulders bunched when she held on.

  Mike rolled them over and broke the kiss. He brushed the hair from her face and pushed himself onto his forearms. "You are so beautiful."

  He kissed her neck and worked his way down the column of her throat. Oh, man, what he could do with his mouth. He continued kissing his way down her body, following the deep V of her nightie, and then took a detour to her nipples. She almost rolled her eyes. She couldn't stand the way Chip and Johnny had played with her nipples as if they were knobs on the radio and they couldn't find the right station or squeezed her breasts so hard it hurt. She'd started to mentally file her nails when Mike shocked the hell out of her. He drew her nipple into his mouth—lace and all. The heat of his mouth, the wetness of the lace, and the friction of his tongue mixed together. The combination had her moaning. She held his head to her chest and wasn't sure if she ever wanted it to end. It felt great, but then so would a lot of other things. Not that she wanted to rush him, but she wasn't sure how much more she could take. She had never thought so before, but maybe there could be too much of a good thing.

  Mike moved on to the other side, the air from the overhead fan chilling the wet lace. He slid his fingernail lightly over the distended nipple, and she almost jumped out of her skin. Her breathing became ragged. Her hips rose with every pull of his mouth on her breast, and something hard and hot pressed against her panties—panties that should have disappeared a while ago.

  She wanted to feel skin against skin. She wanted to feel Mike inside her. She wanted it now. Unfortunately, patience was not her strong suit. She reached under the pillow where she'd seen him put the condoms and tapped him on the shoulder with the sharp, crimped edge of the package.

  He stopped what he was doing when she waved the string of condom packs in front of his face.

  "What do you want me to do with those?"

  "Gee, I don't know. I thought you could make those cute balloon animals. What do you think I want you to do with them?"

  Mike smiled one of those smiles he must have perfected when he did his pediatrics rotation. "There's plenty of time later for balloon animals or whatever else you'd like to do with them. I'm just getting started here."

  "Huh?"

  Mike began pulling her panties off. Yeah, that was more like it. She ripped one of the condoms off and tossed the others in the direction of the bedside table. She tried to figure out where to rip it open when Mike shoved a pillow beneath her butt. Okay. She wasn't sure why, but who was she to question, since really, she was getting her own way, and she did love getting her own way. She ripped the condom packet open with her teeth when Mike lowered his head. Before she could even wonder why, she sucked in a lungful of air and almost inhaled a piece of the condom packet. She tried to pull away, but he held her hips firmly to him as his mouth did amazing things to her nether regions. Oh God. His head was between her legs, and his mouth was hot and wet, and then he started sucking. Annabelle grabbed a handful of hair. She didn't know whether to push him away or pull him closer. Closer won out.

  The condom slipped through her fingers, forgotten, when she found it necessary to hold on to the antique iron headboard. Delirious, Annabelle wasn't in control of her actions, reactions, or vocalizations.

  For what seemed to be hours, he held her just this side of complete and utter satisfaction, and nothing, no amount of begging, moving, urging, or demanding, seemed to sway him. He had her teetering on a precipice. The border between pleasure and pain, hell and ecstasy, and when he finally pushed her over the edge, he rose over her as she came, screaming his name. He entered her in one thrust, and the fullness she remembered sent her into another level of pleasure she was sure would kill her. Panicked, she opened her eyes and connected with Mike. His body moved within hers, and his mouth took hers in a mind-searing kiss. She tasted herself on his lips, she tasted the heat they generated, she tasted the controlled passion Mike held in check, and she wanted it all. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels urging him on harder, faster, and when she nipped his shoulder, he gave her everything.

  Mike had dreamed of making love to Annabelle since the second he'd finished making love to her the last time. He'd thought of all the ways he wanted her. He'd planned to have her going for an hour, to make her come a half-dozen times before he took his turn, but he'd never expected her to be soooo … active. Then, when she bit him, he lost it. He went at her like a rutting boar, and nothing he could do would stop it. The more he lost his hold, the more she responded, and when he finally stopped trying to hold back, she took off like a rocket and joined him. He'd never come so hard, so long, or so intensely. He collapsed and prayed he didn't crush her. He'd move as soon as he could. He needed to dispose of the condom and check if she was okay. The aftershocks of her orgasm were still zinging between their bodies, sending waves of excitement through him, and making his blood pound in what could only be explained as a miracle. He had never thought of himself as a one-shot wonder, but it hadn't even been five minutes, and he was hard again.

  Mike held still, trying to get his mind on anything but the woman
he was currently lying on, as her eyes opened and widened. A slow smile spread across her face, giving her the look of someone relaxed, slightly drowsy, and infinitely pleased with herself. That's when she giggled, and her giggling sent all sorts of shock waves shooting through him, and from the looks of it, through her too.

  "Time-out." He would have held his hands to form a T, but he needed them to push himself off her. He rolled off the bed and wobbled to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. When he returned, he slid into bed and pulled her back to his front, spooning her.

  "You okay?"

  Annabelle scooted closer and sighed. "Mmmm, yeah, you?"

  She sounded as if she was half asleep. Mike checked the clock and wished work could wait. "I should go. I have early rounds tomorrow."

  "Stay."

  One word and he was sunk. How could he say no to that? "As long as I can."

  He held Annabelle, and in a few moments, he could tell from her breathing that she slept. He slipped out of bed and searched the floor for his pants. He checked his cell and pager, turned them both on, and then tossed them on the other bedside table. He picked up their clothes, folded her little nightgown, hung his clothes on the chair along with Annabelle's robe, and opened the bedroom door when he heard Dave sniffing around on the other side. Mike crawled back in bed beside Annabelle and curled up with her. Just as he was falling asleep, the bed behind him dipped and rocked as the big dog stretched out beside him. Mike slid closer to Annabelle and slept.

  Chapter 5

  Mike rolled over in the doctor's lounge and almost fell off the Naugahyde couch he'd crashed on less than two hours before. Rubbing his tired eyes, he stretched. It had been five long days since that night he'd left Annabelle's bed when he was called to the hospital. She'd been half asleep, blinded by the light when he'd needed to find his socks, and all he could do was apologize and give her a peck good-bye before running out.

  His shift ended in an hour, and he didn't have patients to see until after noon. He pulled his cell phone off his belt and dialed Annabelle. He'd be too tired by the time dinner rolled around, but lunch would be good. It would also be safe.