by Nikki Sloane
“Yup.” I tried to force my feet to move, but they wouldn’t. “Three years, and it’s no big deal.” My voice broke. “I mean, he’s just down there playing video games, so . . . he’s fine.”
I was swept up into his hug so abruptly, it squeezed the air from my body, and in my weakened state, I softened into Dr. Lowe. His embrace was fierce, and perfect, and exactly what I desired.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Since I had my forehead pressed against his collarbone, he couldn’t see me twist my face into displeasure. “Don’t. It’s not your fault.”
“I know, but I’m sorry anyway.”
We fell silent. The only sound in the kitchen was the faint ticking of the clock on the far wall. I turned my head and pressed my cheek to the flat plane of his chest, and in response, his arms shifted and settled around me. Neither of us made an effort to step away.
I was greedy. I knew it was selfish and wrong to want his embrace, but I did regardless. It felt like I belonged here. His chest lifted as he drew in a deep breath, and I rode the rise and fall with my eyes closed, hoping the hands on the ticking clock would freeze and go quiet.
But they didn’t.
Each second built in my body like a timer counting down, and anxiety swelled, dreading the moment he’d let me go and it’d be time for me to leave. I’d do anything to prevent it.
So, it was a desperate measure when I lifted on my toes and tilted my head, moving to slant my lips over his. I caught him by surprise, but only for a moment, and then his mouth softened to welcome my reckless kiss.
I shivered as he took over and drove away all thoughts. My arms wrapped tighter around his waist, holding on as his dominating mouth pressed to mine and pulled a sigh from my body.
“Wait, wait,” he said, abruptly yanking his head back and breaking off the kiss. “I’ve been waiting here, washing the same damn dish for the last five minutes, hoping when you came back upstairs, I’d find an excuse to talk to you. We need to, Cassidy.”
“Oh,” I whispered.
The blood in my face heated to a million degrees. I didn’t want to talk about it, but it didn’t matter. I wasn’t going anywhere. Plus, I was certain I’d do pretty much whatever he said, as long as his arms were around me and the buzz from his kiss lingered on my lips.
“I can’t stop thinking about what would have happened if the hospital hadn’t called.”
The way he said it made it impossible to tell if he felt regret or relief. I swallowed the thick knot in my throat. “Me too.”
The scenes that had played out in my mind over the last nine days were dirty and wrong. More fantasies, ones that had me putting a hand down my pajama pants late at night just to relieve the ache.
“We have to stop,” he said. But he made no effort to release me.
“I know.”
“We can’t do this.” His words were as hollow as my agreement had been.
Dr. Lowe smelled like the fresh, clean dish soap he’d been using, but underneath, I caught the hint of leather. The scent caused the memory to flash white-hot in my mind, reminding me of his hands on my breasts, and I shuddered.
The struggle in his eyes made it clear he was losing whatever fight the sensible side of him was waging.
“Shit.” He yanked the towel off his shoulder and tossed it down on the island countertop. “I don’t know which is worse. How wrong this is, or the fact I can’t stop.” His voice dipped so low, it was barely audible. “I shouldn’t, but—fuck, I want you.”
My knees threatened to give out.
I was vaguely aware I was a mess. Hurt and angry at Preston, but I needed Dr. Lowe’s mouth on mine again, and like him, I didn’t care that it was wrong. I didn’t give a fuck how Preston was only one floor below us and could come upstairs at any time.
I pressed into him, like I could burrow deep into his chest. “Dr. Lowe.”
His embrace hardened, locking me tightly with bars made of muscle and bone. “Greg.” The word was a plea and an order. “Say it.”
I tipped my chin up and peered into his eyes. Saying his name would be permission. It’d break the feeble lock we’d put on our restraint, unleashing everything. Uttering it would be a promise of more.
I swallowed a breath and found my voice. “Greg.”
SIX
GREG LOWERED HIS MOUTH TO MINE, and the moment our lips touched, every inch of me exploded with longing. This kiss started tentative. Controlled and aware. But I was engulfed by it, consumed by it, and the sensation drove me crazy.
A single breath was all it took for us to find our rhythm. His lips were pliant against mine as I matched him and charged forward, slipping my tongue into his greedy mouth. This kiss was passionate and dangerous. It built, layer upon layer, until we were both breathless and urgent.
He seized my hips in his sure hands and steered me around, pressing me back against the kitchen island, where the edge of the cold granite bit into the small of my back through the thin cotton tank top I was wearing. Neither of us let up, though. I was wild and out of control, too wrapped up in this thrilling kiss to care.
It was almost brutal, the way he attacked my mouth. I moaned and clutched fistfuls of his t-shirt, wanting it gone between us. Our kiss was even more reckless, but beautiful too. The need between us was so powerful.
He let out the softest sigh when I gave up on tugging at his shirt and slipped a hand under the hem, resting my fingers on the warm, hard ripple of muscles across his stomach. The sound of his affected breath shot straight through me. It was a live wire. A jolt of electricity, spurring him on. His hands on my hips slid forward, focusing on the snap and zipper of my shorts.
“I’m going to put my hand down your pants unless you stop me,” he uttered in my ear.
I wasn’t aware of anything but Greg.
Subconsciously, I knew Preston and his friends were downstairs, and how terrible this would be if we were caught. There were consequences, and Greg’s were much worse than my own. But it wasn’t revenge that allowed him to undo the metal snap of my shorts with a silent click, or drop my zipper, one slow tooth at a time. I didn’t care about my ex-boyfriend. Every nerve ending in my body clamored for the man before me. I clung to Greg, not saying a word, but urged him onward with my eyes and the arch of my back.
Also, the fourth step from the top had a terrible creak in it, so we’d hear anyone coming, and he’d positioned his broad back to block me from view.
Once he had my shorts undone, he left them sitting there open and hanging low on my hips. I had on black silk panties trimmed with white lace, and his fingertips traced over the sensitive skin at the top edge while his mouth latched onto the side of my neck.
I shuddered.
How could I not? Greg’s delicate strokes at the lace over my belly promised pleasure, and I was fucking eager for it. I craved release. All the tension between us had been winding the last nine days until I was so tight, I was going to break wide open. I was grateful for the counter at my back so I could use it for support.
“Stop me,” he whispered. “Please. Tell me you want to stop.”
He was begging me like it was his only way out, but I wasn’t in control any more than he was. How could I tell him to stop? I wanted him to do it. I needed him to. The fire inside me was insatiable.
When fooling around, I’d always been quiet, but Greg made bold and powerful thoughts bubble to the surface. It unhinged the filter on my mouth. “Do it,” I whispered. “I want you to.”
Surprised pleasure snapped through him. “Yeah?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. His fingers curled into a half fist and inched below the lace trim. The hard edges of his fingernails scraped lightly as he raked them down into my panties, working deeper until he found the spot he wanted.
I rose onto the balls of my feet, my flip-flops squealing against the tile.
We both exhaled loudly at the same time. I was wet. So fucking wet, I was drenched, and his chestnut-brown eyes hooded with lust
. His other hand went behind my back to support me as he buried his thick fingers beneath my clothes. His touch was pure bliss. I leaned on the island, my elbows slamming into the polished stone counter, and threw my head back until I was staring at the decorative lighting fixture positioned overhead.
I gripped the edge of the counter and moaned as he stirred careful circles over my clit. The tiniest touch from him caused me to flinch and shiver. Ecstasy rocketed up and down my spine like lightning. His mouth was pressed against the side of my neck, and my hair fluttered with his rapid, uneven breathing.
Like last time, I was both feverishly hot and frigid cold. My nipples tightened and protruded through my unlined bra and tank top, as if wanting to be closer to him. It sent me into chaos. The way his skillful fingers stroked and touched me, I was going to melt into a puddle.
It felt dirty, but in a good way. Like when you went off to summer camp and they took you on a mud hike, encouraging you to smear the thick, cold mud on your skin. Years of programming had told me not to get my clothes dirty, but it was freeing when I finally got to let loose.
That was how I felt now about what I was doing.
I reveled in the wrongness of Greg.
I marveled at how perfectly his hands sizzled across my nerve endings and brought me closer to the brink with every twitch. I shook with desire and lust, throwing aside insecurities and rules, and surrendered to my most basic craving. Was I going to come? Panic simmered toward a bubbling boil. I’d only orgasmed a few times with Preston, and I’d felt weirdly embarrassed about it. Enough that whenever it happened, I did my best to stay quiet and not let on. I wasn’t comfortable having him watch me when I was so vulnerable and out of control.
With what Greg was doing now, staying quiet seemed like it’d be fucking impossible. His pace increased, and I swallowed a ragged breath. I was half out of my mind, not even sure I was speaking, or what I was saying. “Oh God, I’m going to . . .”
Greg’s lips moved against the base of my neck, his stubble faintly dragging over my skin. “Mm-hmm,” he mumbled.
Like this had been his master plan, and he was just letting me in on it now. As if he were giving me permission to come, to fall to pieces in his arms.
I did.
And I did it with as quiet of a whimper as I could. I turned my head blindly into him and groaned, letting him hear the ecstasy ripple through my body. His arm around my back tightened at the same instant his fingers stopped moving and pressed against my throbbing clit. It lengthened my pleasure until it was so strong, I could barely breathe.
The orgasm receded, but Greg did not. He held me still and sure, dropping kisses against my parted lips. As the sensation drifted away, I felt both relaxed and twitchy. Anxious with need for something I couldn’t quite figure out. Just wanting . . . more.
I pushed off the counter as his hand withdrew from inside my shorts, and before he could do anything else, I palmed the large bulge straining down one leg of his jeans. Air left his lungs in a burst and his hips moved instinctively, pushing forward into my touch.
I was a tit-for-tat kind of girl with the boys I’d been with. Always reciprocating, even if I wasn’t that into it. But today was decidedly different. I wasn’t touching him out of obligation, I was rubbing his erection through his jeans because I fucking wanted to. My fingers ached to learn the feel of him.
“Jesus,” he said. He pumped his hips again, urging me to move along his length, and then abruptly froze. His eyes cleared of fog as he blinked, and his pupils focused on me. “Go get in your car.”
I turned into a statue and nearly shrieked it. “What?” He was kicking me out?
“Move it down the street,” he said, hurried. “The house for sale at the end of the road has been vacant and on the market for six months. If you park by the garage, no one will notice.”
I stared up at him. My brain was so clouded with lust, I was slow to keep up with what he was telling me to do. He wanted me to move my car, so when Preston’s friends left, no one would see it.
No one would know I was still here.
Greg’s voice softened until it was silk. “Come up the balcony stairs on the side of the house.”
Because the balcony was attached to his bedroom.
Panic burned slowly and grew in his eyes when I hesitated. Did he understand what he was asking? Us in his bed was a very, very bad idea.
He put his palm over my hand still cupping him through his pants and pressed, molding me to his erection. “Feel how much I fucking want you, Cassidy. Please say yes.”
“Yes.” It came from me instantly, no time to think about it.
He gave me a rushed kiss and stepped back, releasing me.
My flip-flops squeaked on the hardwood floor as I turned and went for the front door. The orgasm still lingered, buzzing in my system, and fueled me as I stepped outside into the late afternoon heat and propelled myself toward my car.
I focused only on my task, rather than why I was doing it. And as I parked in the driveway down the street, my car tucked behind the garage and hidden from view, the alarms in my head jumped to full volume. They were so steady and consistent, it made them easier to tune out.
As I walked back to the Lowe house, I distracted myself by staring at the dark storm clouds off on the horizon. Thunder growled quietly in the distance. The air was heavy with humidity and charged with electricity. It only added to the vibrating feeling coursing through me.
I took the wrought-iron stairs on the spiral staircase one step at a time. All I did was put one foot in front of the other until I reached the small landing at the top, and the door swung open.
My breath stuck in my lungs at the sight of him. His dark eyes studied me like I might not be real, and I felt a little like that. What was I doing here? How was it possible this gorgeous man wanted me, when he shouldn’t?
I wasn’t able to move from my spot on the landing, but when Greg curled his hands around my waist and walked me into the room, my body followed him willingly, and his gaze never left mine.
His room was dim. Deep blue paint on the walls, dark furniture, and the overcast light from outside didn’t seem to breach the two windows on either side of his enormous, four-post bed.
Oh, God. There it was.
The bed.
SEVEN
IT WASN’T THE FIRST TIME I’d seen his bed. I’d been in Greg’s room a few times over the years. During the Lowe’s family Christmas party, we’d put our coats on it. But I looked at the gold textured duvet now with new eyes.
He made his bed perfectly. There weren’t piles of shirts or dirty socks on the floor, or empty Mountain Dew cans on the bedside table like Preston’s room downstairs. This was the room of a man—a precise adult—and it wasn’t surprising. I’d known since the beginning how Dr. Lowe liked everything in its place. He lined the cooking utensils up in the drawers in the kitchen like they were his surgical instruments.
The room smelled like him.
Greg’s grip on my hips softened, and his hands slid up my back, so slowly it felt like he was going one vertebrae of my spine at a time. Heat rose along with his hands, and goosebumps pebbled across my thighs.
He didn’t kiss me. Instead, he hovered, his breath rolling over my lips as his eyes searched every inch of my face. I hungered for his mouth on mine but felt strangely too shy to take what I wanted. So, I waited, balancing on the edge for him to move. To close the last inch of space between us and claim me.
Please, a seductive voice in my mind whined. What are you waiting for?
Could he read my thoughts through my eyes? “If I kiss you,” he said, “that’s it. I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”
I exhaled softly and stared at his lips. I was here, ready. Desperate. “Then, kiss me.”
He moved fast, sealing his mouth over mine and stealing all the air from the room.
The kiss was explosive. Heat flared from where his lips met mine, spreading outward like wildfire, engulfing me. I cased his neck
with my hands, pretending to steady him when I was really stabilizing myself. Everything went weak inside me. My bones turned to jelly.
I was cold when he peeled the tank top up over my head and dropped it to the floor, but then his hands were on me, his fingertips tracing the lines of my bra. My hands found their home back on his neck, and I could feel his hurried pulse beneath my palms. The thin fabric of my delicate bra was all that stood in his way, but he seemed to enjoy touching me like this. Skirting the edge before diving in.
His soft tongue slid into my mouth and caressed, and instinctively, my hand grabbed a fistful of hair at the base of his skull. I wasn’t going to be able to stand much longer if he kept kissing me like that. I pulsed with need.
Fingertips worked the clasp of my bra, and it popped loose, sliding down to catch on my elbows. I tossed it aside and reached for the hem of his shirt, but he beat me to it. Up the cotton t-shirt went, and then it was cast off, bringing his solid form into view. I wasn’t prepared for how good he looked. Greg was all hard muscle twisted over his frame, a patch of hair covering his chest and arrowing down to disappear beneath his jeans.
I swallowed hard when he pressed our warm, naked skin together. If it was supposed to be wrong, why the hell did it feel right?
Somehow, between our passionate, greedy kisses and wandering hands, I found myself backed up to the bed, where the duvet touched the backs of my thighs below my shorts. His hands cupped my breasts and pushed them together, making it easier for him to run his lips and tongue from one aching nipple to the other, and back again.
Shivers shook my shoulders. I skimmed my hand over the waistband of his jeans, lingering at the button. Just enough to threaten what I was thinking about doing. How much further I was willing to go.
It was challenging undoing the button at the top of his jeans, but he held still and let me. I clawed my unsteady fingers at his zipper, and then shoved the pants down over his hips.
For a split second, I marveled at how soft his underwear was. Rich, black fabric covered him, but did nothing to hide his dick straining beneath. He gave a quiet hiss of pleasure as I smoothed my palm over the long, thick length of him. Jesus, he was big.