Bad for Her

by Christi Barth

  It stung, but he was right. Her word choice had sprung from Mollie’s mushy heart. The one that adored her cousin and still remembered him as a moppet who crawled onto her lap for hugs. “I’m not. Truly. He utterly screwed up.”

  “Yeah. He did.” Rafe crossed his arms over his chest. “Something I hear he did a lot back where he used to live. Seems to be a bad habit of his.”

  “This was the first time it happened here, though,” she rushed to point out. The comment sounded hollow, even to Mollie as it came out of her mouth. They’d all hoped that a new environment would curb Jesse’s troublemaking tendencies, but this incident didn’t bode well. Maybe it had been naïve to assume that Bandon would work its magic on him and he’d be instantly transformed into a valedictorian who helped little old ladies cross the street.

  But Mollie still believed that his heart mattered. Not just his actions. People made mistakes. Everyone made mistakes. All the time. With a good heart, there was always hope for a fresh start. Not just for Jesse, but for anyone.

  She refused to give up that belief.

  Rafe, however, looked as serious as an aneurysm. It showed in the lines bracketing his thinned lips and the furrow in his brow. “It’s a turning point, Mollie. Either he gets scared straight right the fuck now, or you lose him. To other bad kids, to jail, or worse. Moving here to live with you and Norah—and hopefully give a shit about what you think of him—is his last chance.”

  “I know. I’m grateful that Mick didn’t press charges. Presumably that was as a kindness to Gran and me.”

  “Maybe.” Rafe smirked. “Pretty sure it was more that he didn’t want to hand over responsibility for his problem to the police. He’s got a lot of pride holding up that steel backbone of his.”

  Rafe had him pegged already. Mick could be prickly, at first. It delighted her that they must’ve hit it off because she adored the colonel. He had his quirks, just like everyone else in town, but he was loyal down to his core. And he didn’t put up with any posturing or big-headedness. Which, after training with pompous surgeons, was a refreshing change.

  Then she read between the lines. “But Mick was fine with handing it over to you?”

  “We came to a mutual agreement on next steps.”

  Was Rafe trying to be modest? Because it didn’t take her handful of degrees to connect the dots. “One that wouldn’t expose what happened to his car to the entire town. So people wouldn’t realize that a teenager got the jump on him.”

  “That’s right.”

  What a softhearted sweetie. It was so darned easy to see right through Rafe’s bluster. Mollie grabbed both of his hands. Felt a smile stretching her cheeks sideways. “You saved Jesse and Mick.”

  “Don’t stick a halo on my head or anything. It’s the smart solution. Period.” His usual gruffness was there. Along with a shift of his eyes, barely discernible in the shadows, that made her wonder if the praise embarrassed him.

  Oh, well. Too bad. Because he deserved it. So if Rafe didn’t like hearing the words, she’d just have to find another way to thank him. Considering the reason he’d popped by, the answer was obvious. “You should come up with one more smart solution. To our present dilemma.”

  “What’s that?”

  Mollie put one hand on the bedrail and plopped onto the mattress. Swung her legs in what she realized too late wasn’t a sexy move at all. Especially with a gap showing between her scrub pants and white crew socks. Not exactly fish nets and black stilettos designed to seduce. “One skinny bed. Two bodies. How on earth are we going to both fit?”

  “Guess I’ll have to get on top of you.” The fire in his blue eyes seared through her as Rafe bracketed her thighs with his own. “I guarantee that will work. It’ll be a tight fit, but tight’s good.”

  “It’s very good,” she said, on more of a breath than an actual voice. Because now he had her thinking about just how big he was to make it a tight fit.

  Inside of her.

  Holy hell.

  Rafe interlaced his fingers at the ultra-sensitive nape of her neck. Circled the pads of his thumbs in the hollows behind her earlobes.

  God.

  That was all it took. Two thumbs at the spot where her earring posts often stabbed her. How did that set her blood on fire? How did those tiny nerve endings somehow zip all the way down to spread heat through her entire pelvis like a pool of hot wax?

  Clinically, she knew they didn’t. She’d spent hours memorizing the anatomy of what connected where.

  Clearly, when it came to Rafe, all bets were off. Everything Mollie thought she knew about the human body needed to be chucked out the window.

  On a moan, she let her head fall back a little.

  Because it felt that good. Already.

  Rafe removed her stethoscope and placed it on the tray table. Turned on the light mounted high over the bed. “I’ve been fantasizing about stripping you out of your scrubs ever since you told me you were a doctor.”

  “How’d that fantasy play out?”

  He winced. “Usually ended with me rubbing one out. Tonight’s going to have a better ending.”

  “Yes.” Oh, yes.

  “See, I already know what you feel like. Your curves.” He scraped his palms down over taut nipples not at all concealed beneath the lace of her bra, scrub top and lab coat. Nope, he’d brought those suckers out to play. “Your straightaways.” He skimmed back up from wrists to shoulders. “Your wetness.”

  The tip of one long finger teased along her lips. Mollie sucked hard, swirling her tongue around it. The motion locked Rafe’s thighs into pure steel in response. She ended with a sharp nip, just to let him know that she was more than ready to move right along.

  “My fantasy is about peeling away all these serious, dull, unisex medical layers to reveal the woman underneath. The woman that you’re hiding away just for my eyes only.”

  Rafe eased the lab coat off her shoulders and left it tangled at the crook of her elbows, pinning her arms slightly back. Then he lifted the hem of her top to reveal her stomach. One hand pushed her flat onto her back while the other traced lazy circles around her navel. Slow, teasing circles that made her quiver. And clench everything, inside and out.

  When would he really touch her?

  How on earth would she survive when he finally did?

  The circles turned into zigzags that went from the cinched waist of her pants all the way to her sternum, and then back over to the opposite hip. Mollie shivered, arching up when he replaced his finger with his tongue and laved a long, wet line from side to side.

  “So pale.” His breath feathered over her skin, lips a scant hair from actually touching her.

  Crap. No seductive clothing, and no sexy tan lines. Clearly she should’ve started prepping for this fling with the same intensity she’d studied for the medical boards. And long before she’d even met Rafe. “It’s only May eleventh. We don’t break out bikinis in Oregon until July.”

  “Not a complaint. You’re so pale and soft, it’s like licking my way across milk.” Rafe lifted his head and threw her a wicked grin. “I fucking love milk.” He shoved her shirt up, above her breasts. Clamped one hand on each breast and slowly squeezed. Just hard enough. Just perfectly enough to have her mouth fall open on a gasp.

  “You’re so beautiful, Mollie.” Rafe nibbled his way across the lacy edge of her bra. “I thought I wanted you. Before. Now I know I’ve got to have you.”

  “Ditto.” To the nth power.

  “Glad that’s settled.” He dropped his mouth over one nipple and sucked. Sucked hard through the swirl of lace. Pinched her other nipple with corresponding pressure.

  It was like he’d flicked a switch into sexual overdrive. Because now his hips rolled against hers. His breathing hitched and he shoved his other hand roughly underneath her to knead her ass. It was hot and wild and amazing.

  “Let me touch you,” Mollie demanded. Wanted. Needed. Vibrated with the burning urgency of the desire to feel those muscles beneath her
fingers. Whatever.

  “We’ll get there. Once you come the first time, then you can touch me.”

  “What sort of evil, twisted game is that?”

  He slid his hand beneath the waistband of both her scrubs and her panties. There was nothing between his big, calloused hand and her ass. Well, nothing except the goose bumps he’d raised. “One where you’re guaranteed to come multiple times before we even take your shoes off.”

  How could she possibly argue with the logic of a statement like that?

  Down came her pants. Fast. Before Mollie could even lift her hips to help, the harsh cotton raked across the backs of her thighs.

  She loved it.

  Loved the heightened sensations. Loved how the scrape of the waistband contrasted with the ungodly softness of his tongue still toying with her nipple. The uneven bumps of the blanket under her ass versus the much softer sheet touching her bare back. How the stiff seams of his jeans dug into her legs.

  “The plan’s to take the edge off. Like only giving the top of a soda a half twist. It releases the pressure of the bubbles so that you can take your time drinking the whole thing.”

  Well. If Mollie was soda, then Rafe had to be a neat shot of twenty-year-old whiskey. Smooth and oh-so-powerful. Thoroughly destructive to her inhibitions.

  Because she didn’t care that she was still, technically, at work. That there was an outside (okay, fairly remote) chance that a janitor could barge in to check the trash or mop the floor. That if they weren’t very, very quiet then someone would most definitely come in and find them.

  Mollie only cared about getting Rafe inside her.

  Now.

  A loud, electronic hum alerted her a moment before the bed began to move. The top half chugged into a half-seated position.

  “Might as well make use of the amenities.” Rafe winked at her. Then his head shot downward to nuzzle her inner thighs. His ten o’clock shadow chafed gloriously as his tongue traced the seam full of nerve endings between her pelvis and leg. But these were only fast brushes, quick pit stops on the way to his actual goal. Which was to peel her open with his thumbs and lick right down her center.

  One long lick.

  One slow, drugging, dragging lick.

  Mollie held her breath, waiting for the next one.

  There wasn’t one. There was a sudden flurry of pointed flickering right across her clitoris. An explosion of heat flashed through her.

  Mollie almost yelled but remembered herself at the last second and turned it into a low, choked-out, “Rafe! God.”

  “Make up your mind.” He hovered, only his breath touching her.

  “You. Definitely you.”

  His tongue started that magical, fast, and flitting motion again. At the same time, he drove two fingers into her.

  Boom.

  There.

  Done. World tilted. Ultimate orgasm achieved with a single inward thrust. Mollie pulsed around him. Satisfied. Boneless. But she wanted more. She wanted the thickness of his dick inside her, not just his fingers. She wanted to feel taken. Used. Mindless.

  So she consciously pulsed and tightened again. And again.

  “You’re doing that on purpose.”

  “Yep.”

  “You want me in you?”

  “Yep.”

  “Are you ready for that? You don’t need time to recover and build up slow from scratch again?”

  “I’ll tell you what I’m not ready for. I’m not ready for slow. At all.”

  Rafe pulled his wallet from his back pocket and removed a condom. Funny how the snap of rubber in a hospital room sounded the same whether it was hand gloves or a love glove. He threaded his legs through hers, then cinched them up around his waist. “No problem. I’m ready to drive into you so hard this bed will go right through the wall.”

  “Big talk.”

  “You’ve got the big part right.” And in he went. No hesitation. A single thrust that did, indeed, feel as though he’d push her right through the mattress.

  So. Good.

  The residual slickness from her orgasm made it work, but Mollie still felt stretched as full as she’d ever been. Like she’d be perfectly happy just lying there, wallowing in that near-painful tightness.

  Rafe dipped his head to work on one breast with his mouth. He alternated the sucking pulls of his lips with hard, powerful, possessing snaps of his hips. It was a matter of moments before Mollie began to spiral toward another climax. It was so dirty. So raw. So primal.

  So unbelievably fantastic.

  Mollie moved with him. Rolling, arching, aching in every cell for more. More hardness in the slam of his pecs against her chest. More heat pooling where their bodies merged. More brushes of the steel of his forearms against her sides. More of his low, guttural moans that she could barely hear over her own panting and sighs.

  With a deep sigh, Rafe pulled back to look at her. Not just her face, but her exposed breasts and stomach, and then back up to meet her eyes. “You take my breath away, Mollie.”

  The depth of feeling in his gaze shocked her. Scared her more than a little. And lit an answering warmth in her heart that scared her even more. So she retreated to the safety of teasing. “That’s from all the sexing.”

  “I haven’t taken the time to tell you how special you are. Feels like I should before we finish this.”

  “We’ve flirted a ton, Rafe.”

  “And now I’m being serious. Because you deserve it. You’re healing me in places I didn’t know were broken.” He followed up the uncharacteristically romantic words with a kiss.

  A real kiss.

  Not an I’m-about-to-come kiss. No, this kiss was tender. Soft in the way his lips explored, but still passionate.

  It was a kiss Mollie felt in exactly one spot in her body. Her heart.

  He started moving again, still with purpose, but with less speed. His thrusts were deliberate. His hand on her breast a caress, his kiss still so achingly sweet it almost brought tears to her eyes.

  A slight hiking of her legs brought him deeper. A twist of his hips put him in contact with Mollie’s heretofore undiscovered G-spot. With her hands still not free, all she could do was sink her teeth in the ridge of muscles along the top of his shoulder as she shuddered and quaked and, once more, dissolved into a million pieces.

  Two more thrusts and Rafe grunted much louder before stilling.

  Whereas Mollie’s heart immediately began to race once more.

  What was that?

  It sure hadn’t been just fling sex. It started out that way. But then it morphed into what had to be called real relationship sex. Bordering on making love.

  Omigod.

  Panic started to set in. What should she say? What should she do? How did you thank a man for the most mind-altering sexual experience ever while also accusing him of acting like a more than decent boyfriend?

  Or what if she was wrong? What if the key to the best sex ever was the hybrid nature of it? Maybe he didn’t mean to let that emotionally naked sentence slip.

  It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said about her.

  Which put her on the verge of breaking out into hives. This could not be a relationship. They had an agreement. An understanding. Mutually beneficial friendship, period. No real feelings.

  Mollie was suddenly, horribly afraid it was too late to make that case.

  Rafe trailed kisses up her throat to her ear. “Well, Doc? Still want to find out where my tattoo is?”

  She wasn’t an idiot. Nobody passed up an offer like that. Not even a woman on the verge of a panic attack. “Can I look for it with my fingers? Feel everywhere until I find it?”

  “You can try.” Gently, he released her arms and removed her lab coat and top. “I can’t promise how long I’ll be able to keep from jumping you again.”

  “Fair enough.” Because she’d never ask Rafe to promise her anything.

  Mollie knew all too well that some promises were too hard for most people to keep.

&nb
sp; Chapter 15

  Rafe fisted Mollie’s oh-so-soft hair. It pulled her head back, extending her neck so he had more access to kiss it. Might even leave a hickey. So that people knew she was off-limits. That she was his. That Mollie was in his heart, his brain, his dreams.

  She was on her knees. He was behind her, his other hand clamped tight on her fucking perfect breast. It was a toss-up—should he move and get straight to the orgasm already tightening his nuts? Or stay frozen, just feeling every inch of skin where they touched? Rafe had never been tempted to do that with any other woman. But when he was with Mollie, it wasn’t just about coming. It was about absorbing her pleasure, too. Enjoying being together, in bed and out.

  Besides, it’d drive her crazy if he stayed still. Make her wriggle and breathe through those sexy little moans . . .

  “Wake up!”

  Shit.

  As he rolled over, Rafe’s arm pinwheeled, fist cocked to hit whoever was in his room. Whoever had pulled him out of the dream that had been such a fanfuckingtastic reality a few hours ago.

  A strong hand at his wrist stopped him mid-swing. “Rafe. Stop.”

  Sounded like Flynn. Except Flynn wouldn’t be dumb enough to wake him up predawn for anything.

  Anything but trouble.

  That thought brought him fully awake and alert. He scrubbed the heel of his palm over his eyes. “What’s going on?”

  “Someone’s banging on the front door.” That harsh whisper came from Kellan. With the dim light bleeding in from the hallway, Rafe could see both of his brothers now. Since they were both naked, he wasn’t too thrilled at the sight.

  Now he heard it, too—a repeated, dull, fast thumping—and adrenaline shot through him so fast that Rafe jumped to his feet.

  Also naked.

  Guess they needed to make a wear pajamas in case we’re about to be ambushed house rule.

  “What do we do?” Flynn asked.

  Good question. They didn’t have any guns. Rafe kept a butcher knife in the top dresser drawer, a baseball bat under the bed, and a tire iron in the corner. Things that the marshal wouldn’t officially classify as weapons and boot them out of the program for having—but things they could damn well use to defend themselves.