by Lucy Ryder
“What are you talking about?”
“I feel like a…a bug under a microscope.”
“A very attractive wet bug,” he interjected, and dropped his gaze in time to see her bite her lip. And because he hadn’t eaten since noon, he was tempted to take a nibble too but she turned wounded eyes up to his and he froze. “What? What’s wrong?”
“I’m d-damaged.”
He laughed but when her expression turned fierce, like she wanted to slug him, he frowned, confused as hell because the woman was damn beautiful. The last thing he’d call her was damaged.
Stunning, sexy and hot? Yes. Snotty as hell? Definitely. Damaged? No way. Scars and all. There was too much elegant bone structure, stubborn chin and lush mouth for that.
Frustrated, he shoved a hand through his hair. “What the hell are you talking about?” He felt like one wrong move from him and she’d… Hell, he didn’t know, just that he’d go crashing through the ice any second and be plunged into deep frigid waters. She glared at him and he felt like an insensitive jerk. He didn’t have a clue why.
“I’m damaged, flawed, broken,” she muttered fiercely. “Take your pick. I’ve heard it all before, and more. Including ugly.”
“Ugly?” He made a sound of irritation. “Did someone tell you that?” he rapped out.
She lifted a hand to cover the pale thin scars and blinked at him warily. “I’ve got eyes. I know what I look like.”
He reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, gently pulling her hand away so he could study the thin silvery scars marring her creamy skin with professional interest and clinical detachment. He had a feeling anything else would offend her.
Through the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist her pulse beat a rapid tattoo. Even if he hadn’t felt the racing heartbeat, he couldn’t ignore the anxiety leaking from every pore.
She made a sound of distress in the back of her throat and tried to tug free but he held her easily, lifting his free hand to gently turn the scarred side toward him.
He wanted to lean forward and kiss each imperfection, run his tongue along the pale lines. “I don’t think you do,” he said mildly. “Have you heard of body dysmorphic disorder?”
She jerked her chin away and flashed him a scowl of outrage. “Of course I have. Are you suggesting I have BDD or that I’m vain?”
Gabe shook his head and sent her a faint smile. “Neither. I merely wondered if you knew about it. I’m not going to lie and say your scars are invisible, Holly, but I think they’re more noticeable to you because you know they’re there.”
She rolled her eyes and tried to twist free but he ignored her, his large, warm hand holding her captive. “I know they’re there,” she said in a low, fierce voice, “because I had to live through the stares as well as the endless procedures to get rid of them.”
“And…” he guessed, lightly tracing one thin line across the top of her cheekbone to where it disappeared into her hairline. She sucked in a breath and after a moment a tiny shudder went through her. Gabe had to steel himself against the urge to wrap his arms around her, offer his strength. “You remember what they were like when they were new,” he pointed out gently. “But unless you deliberately did this to yourself, it’s not your fault.”
“Of course I didn’t do it to myself,’ she snapped, then sucked in a huge breath that was probably an attempt to calm her but which nearly gave Gabe a heart attack when the round globes of her breasts swelled above the neckline of her swimsuit. “It was…an accident.”
He had to clear his throat twice and fight the overwhelming urge to drop his gaze to her plump curves and drool like a guy. “Well, from a cosmetic point of view, even I couldn’t have done better.”
She snorted. “Modest much, Dr. Alexander?”
He chuckled. “No. In Beverly Hills you have to be good or word gets around and the next thing you know you’re in Tijuana, doing budget nip-and-tuck tourist deals. Switzerland or Germany?”
She tugged again on her wrist and because he was somewhat distracted he let her go. She immediately wrapped her arms around herself. He could have told her it was too late. Waa-aay too late. Now that he’d seen—and felt them pressed against his chest—he was sure the image was burned into his brain for all time. And why he found that sexier than if she’d been naked, he didn’t know. Clearly he’d lost brain cells along with his testosterone leakage.
“Switzerland. How did you know?”
At the question his gaze rose from watching her mouth form words. He blinked in confusion and got lost in the smoky blue depths surrounding enlarged pupils.
“I, uh…” What the hell were they discussing? Oh, yeah, he thought with a rush of relief—her scars. “I recognized the technique from a study I did in med school.”
She looked back at him and her expression was as dazed as his had been a few seconds ago. Clearly she was also having difficulty keeping up with their verbal exchange when their bodies insisted on conversing on a whole different level. A level that left his skin tight, his blood pounding through his veins and his body in pleasurable pain like he was an addict suffering withdrawal.
Holly licked her lips and Gabe’s blood went instantly hot. She must have recognized the look in his eyes because hers widened and she edged away, watching him warily.
“Stop that!”
“Huh? Stop what?”
“Stop looking and…and talking about my flaws.”
“Everyone has flaws,” he murmured distractedly, his body following hers like he was a divining rod and she was a hidden source of water. He caged her against the wall with his arms, his voice a rough, low sound between them that heightened the feeling of isolation and intimacy.
Slick, naked skin brushed, sending goose-bumps marching across his skin like an invading army, and the water separating them heated until he thought he saw steam but maybe that was just his brain smoking. “My one ear is higher than the other and I have big feet.”
She gaped at him like he was a lunatic for equating big feet with trauma scars. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m serious. I bet if you looked you’d probably find a lot more. Like I broke my nose when my surfboard smacked me in the face.”
She grimaced sympathetically. “What happened?”
“I was sixteen and showing off,” he sighed. “Instead of being impressed, the girl fainted when she saw blood and the rest of my summer was ruined.”
Her eyes lightened, as Gabe had intended, and he wanted to close the distance between them and kiss her, tease a smile to her lush mouth. He wanted to make her laugh—really laugh. Not the polite little smile he’d seen her aim at people she wanted to keep at a distance. Hell. He’d like any kind of smile, considering all she ever did with him was scowl.
“That’s really tragic.”
Yeah, about as tragic as a grown man behaving like a sixteen-year-old.
He gave a wounded look. “It was a traumatic adolescent experience that scarred me for life,” he accused, when she smothered a snicker. “Anyway, in addition to a broken nose, my one eyebrow arches more than the other and an old girlfriend told me I look permanently mocking.”
“The one who fainted?”
“No.” Smartass. “That one was history before I could impress her with my manliness. It was another…girl.”
“Well, you are mocking,” she pointed out, and when his lips curved up at one corner, her eyes dropped to stare at his mouth and he knew she was as affected by their proximity as he was. After a moment her gaze slid away a little guiltily and when her tongue emerged to flick over her lips he felt it all the way to his big feet—and every inch along the way.
“Maybe a little,” he rasped, struggling to follow the conversation. “What I’m trying to say is that people are not perfect.”
“You haven’t met my family.”
“Why?”
The movement of the water bobbed them together and their bodies bumped, skin brushing skin, soft curves against hard. He
r breasts brushed his chest, sending sensation zinging through him until his back teeth ached with the effort not to yank her against him and taste her soft mouth.
“My mother was a beauty queen,” she was saying in a husky tone, as though the accidental touch had affected her too. Damn. Maybe he should move away. Maybe he should get out of the pool and take a really cold shower until he could breathe without inhaling the scent of her, move without the memory of her soft skin brushing against his.
But instead of getting the hell out of Dodge, he pressed a thigh between hers and shifted closer, until the plump curves of her breasts were pillowed against his chest and her thighs quivered and clenched around his. She made a little sound in the back of her throat that emerged as a gasping squeak and he nearly came out of his skin. It was so hot he was surprised the water didn’t evaporate. It was so hot he felt the back of his skull tighten and his skin buzz.
She gulped and pressed herself against the wall before continuing. “She was…um…runner-up for Miss America and w-won Miss World that same year.” She sucked in a breath. “She’s beautiful and perfect. Like my sister Paige. Like my father and my brother Bryant.”
Something tugged at his memory but when her tongue peeked out between her pink lips it vanished and all he could think about was tasting the moist pink pillows of flesh just beneath his mouth.
Maybe it was the hour or the fact that her eyes were heavy and smoky with the kind of need thundering through his own veins. But with her lips just below his and the smooth skin of her inner thighs making his gut clench with an almost violent need, he was powerless to do anything but slide his hand to the back of her neck and lower his head.
She gasped. “What are you…doing?”
Just before their lips touched, he murmured, “Proving how perfect you are.”
Bare skin and thin elastane pressed into his belly and thighs. It flooded him with a need so powerful that he felt momentarily dizzy.
Oh, yeah, she was perfect all right. Perfect for him…perfect for his hands. Perfect for his mouth and he’d bet his grandfather’s entire fortune she’d be perfect for his body too.
He reined himself in with difficulty but her breath hitched audibly in her throat and shot all his intentions—to keep it light and teasing—straight to the bottomless pits of hell.
With a growl he covered her mouth with his in a kiss that instantly turned greedy and hot. He was thirty-five. A man who loved women; loved their bodies and the way their bodies felt against his. He loved the way they tasted and smelled and he loved the feel of their soft, firm flesh beneath his hands. He loved everything about them and he especially loved taking his time. But everything he’d ever learned about women went right out of his head the instant her mouth opened beneath his.
It was like he’d been sucked into a vortex created by her soft, wet mouth and soft, warm body and he couldn’t think beyond getting more. More of her mouth, more of her silky curves pressed to the front of his jammer swimming trunks. More of her.
He pressed closer and when she uttered a breathy moan Gabe instantly took advantage and slid his tongue into her hot mouth. Without realizing he was doing it, he groaned low and deep in his throat and adjusted the fit of his mouth over hers, creating a light suction that made her whimper and arch into him, her hands clutching at his shoulders.
Blood roared through his head and he felt himself go under—submerged in liquid heat and drowning pleasure where his only lifeline was the feel of her soft mouth beneath his. And if he heard the alarm warning in the back of his mind, he ignored it in favor of murmured sighs that filled his ears and the slick, warm feel of her mouth beneath his.
Holly was aware of only two things. The big, hard body pressed to hers…the tangle of their limbs and the way his hand cradled her head as he devoured her resistance along with her breath. Okay, and she was also aware of the hard thigh between hers and the evidence of his arousal pressed almost painfully against her belly.
Her mind spun even as her eyes drifted shut and her body softened, cradling that huge, hard shaft. He groaned. It came from so deep in his chest—like it’d been dragged up from the depths of his soul—that the responding vibrations swept through her like a subwoofer turned on high. And before she could remember her plan or think that maybe this was a very bad idea, she surrendered to the taste of him, greedily eating at his mouth and the hot, hungry kisses he fed her. Kisses that were deep and drugging and told her he was ravenous and that she was his next meal.
She’d never known kisses could be so hot or…hungry. Or that a man’s mouth was capable of making her head spin, her belly dip and her body feel like one move and she’d go off like a bottle rocket.
And then there were no more thoughts as need and greed sucked her under, stole her breath along with any thoughts she might have to resist.
But there was no resisting the unstoppable force that was Gabriel Alexander and if she was honest with herself she didn’t want to. Didn’t want to push him away or stop the onslaught on her senses. Didn’t want to resist his hot hardness sliding up to press against the apex of her thighs where she was hot and damp and aching with emptiness.
It was also wildly exciting to discover that someone like him could want her…with such rough urgency.
Then it didn’t matter because all her thoughts drained away along with her breath, sucked out by his greedy mouth. But she found she didn’t need breath as much as she needed this. This wild out-of-control feeling that sucked her under and sent her mind into a tailspin. And if she’d been in any condition to do anything but groan, slide her hands up the heavy muscles of his arms to his shoulders and press her body closer, she might have freaked at the ease with which he’d unraveled her defenses.
He fed her more deep, wet, hungry kisses that made her gasp and return them, just as hungrily, as if they were alone instead of in a public swimming pool where anyone might see them.
She didn’t care. All she wanted was the hot, wet slide of his body filling the deep, empty ache within her. An ache she’d only discovered this very minute. An ache that she’d never thought existed, let alone experienced—especially in a brightly lit pool in central Manhattan.
He broke off the kiss to croak “Damn,” against her mouth and drag air into his heaving chest like he’d just sprinted three lengths of the pool without breathing. For several long beats they shared air until Holly lifted heavy lashes to see if he’d been as affected by the kiss as she had.
He looked a little shell-shocked. Kind of like she’d kneed him in the groin and he didn’t know whether to throw up or pass out. Heck, she felt a little like passing out herself, and if she’d been in any state to do more than gulp air and cling to him, she might have panicked. Because…because, damn. Who’d have thought that Holly Buchanan would end up making out with Dr. Beverly Hills in a public swimming pool like a couple of randy teens? And want more? A whole lot more?
But her shock was about as little as the heavy evidence of his arousal, clearly outlined by his jammer suit practically shrink-wrapped to his lower body and visible beneath the water.
Okay, so she’d looked. It was better than seeing the hot blue-green eyes staring into hers until her thighs went up in flames. Her vision grayed at the edges and she thought she was having a panic attack until she realized she was holding her breath. She had to exhale or pass out.
And then he’d be forced to save her by performing mouth-to-mouth. Oh, yes. Please.
She must have swayed because his hands shot out to steady her. “You okay?” he rasped, and Holly stared up into his eyes and wondered why she’d never noticed how stormy they could get. Like the waters of the Caribbean stirred by hurricane winds.
“I…um…” And when nothing else emerged, he gave her a quick, hard shake to snap her out of her trance. But Holly was well and truly speechless. Who wouldn’t be after that…that feeding frenzy?
“You going to pass out?” emerged rough and hoarse, as though he had as little control over his vocal cords
as he had over his breathing. She inhaled and exhaled a couple more times until the urge to lose consciousness eased.
“Wh-a-at?”
A ragged chuckle scraped up from the depths of his chest and after a couple beats he shoved shaking fingers through his hair. “Damn it. I have to go.” He sounded frustrated and a little like he was about to lose it. And, oh, boy, she could identify. “Are you going to be all right?”
“Oh…um…yes.” She sucked in a couple more breaths and blinked up at him in confusion until she finally recognized the beeping noise she’d thought was the little warning sound in her head.
He was being paged and she hadn’t even heard it over the pounding in her ears. Her head cleared a little more and she blew out a ragged “Go.”
CHAPTER SIX
HOLLY WASN’T ABOUT to tell him that she felt like someone had smacked her against the head and left her ears ringing. She wasn’t about to admit that every muscle in her body trembled—either with unfulfilled need or shock at her own behavior.
She white-knuckled the side of the pool with one hand and lifted unsteady fingers to her tingling lips, watching with dazed eyes as he hauled himself onto the pool deck. She felt shaken to her core. Kind of like finding out that aliens existed and that the government was helping them experiment on humans in return for their technology. Only…more.
Holy cow. Who knew anyone could kiss like that? Kiss her like that? As though he’d wanted to swallow her whole.
Water gushed down his body as he rose to his full height and she finally got a good look at what he’d been hiding beneath his jeans and sweatshirts—everything his jammer suit was supposed to cover, but didn’t. Gulp.
She didn’t realize her mouth had dropped open until he turned and caught her ogling his tight butt. His brow—the one that was usually arched in subtle mockery—rose up his forehead and a little lopsided grin sent that dimple creasing the lean planes of his cheek.