Not to mention that sinful garter belt, which he really hadn’t been expecting from prim Dr Hart. Did he take it off her, or leave it on?
His head couldn’t keep track of all the ways he wanted this woman. He wanted her with an intensity, a fierceness that almost floored him. He thought it might kill him and he couldn’t even bring himself to care. As long as he had her.
Lowering his head, he claimed her mouth again and again, tasting her with his lips and his tongue, whilst she met him stroke for stroke. He captured each one of her soft sighs in his mouth, emitted as though she was as driven by desire as he was.
He let his hands trail over her body, revelling in the way her body quivered beneath his touch, and every time she pressed herself against him. He relished the way she lifted her hands to fumble with his shirt buttons and then slid them inside to trace the ridges of his chest as if she was trying to commit them to memory merely by touch.
He didn’t even remember when he’d lost his jacket or bowtie. When he’d begun to cup that peachy backside to lift her up to sit on the desk, her hard nipples raking over his chest, his hips locked within the tight embrace of her incredible long, slender legs.
He was so hard, so ready he could barely think straight. Barely. But he could think enough to register that if she rocked against him much longer then he was going to be beyond help.
‘Are you on the pill?’ he muttered.
‘Hmm?’ She lifted her head to meet his gaze, her eyes glazed and overflowing with naked desire so that it was almost his undoing.
‘I don’t have any protection on me.’ Every word felt as though it was being torn from Sol’s throat, especially when he wouldn’t have slept with any other woman without protection yet all he could think about with Anouk was burying himself deep inside her and driving them both to oblivion.
It made no sense.
‘Oh.’
She flushed, and he couldn’t help himself lowering his head and following the pretty flush with his lips.
She moaned softly and it went straight to his sex as surely as if she’d gripped him with her hands.
What the hell had he been saying?
‘Protection,’ he remembered hoarsely.
Another brief pause and then she shook her head.
‘Oh, Lord...no. No pill.’
She loosened her legs from around his hips as though it was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. But he wasn’t about to give her up that easily.
He couldn’t.
He might not be able to slide inside her but he had to do something to sate this storm that raged and howled inside him, demanding more of her. Needing more of her.
Dropping to his knees, he hooked the shred of lace to one side.
‘Wait.’ She struggled to sit up, breathless and flustered. ‘What are you...?’
But he didn’t give her time to finish, he wanted to taste her too badly. Sliding one of her legs over his shoulder, he lowered his head and licked his way straight into her. Her shaky cry, as her hands tangled into his hair, was all the validation he needed.
She tasted of slick, sweet honey, and Sol couldn’t get enough. He played with her, toyed with her, drawing lazy whorls with his tongue all around her swollen, molten core, before sliding over her, sliding into her, sucking on her, making her hips meet his mouth with each thrust.
And then she was moving faster, her breathing more ragged than ever, and he gripped hold of her and held her fast, prolonging her agony and ecstasy.
‘Sol...please...’ she rasped out.
As if she was all his for the taking.
The thought lanced through him with more appeal than it had any right to do.
With one finger sliding inside her, he licked faster and sucked harder. Anouk cried out, bucked against him, and shattered on his tongue. Fragmenting all around him. But he wasn’t finished. Over and over he pushed her past the edge until he knew she could fall no more and, reluctantly, he sat back.
He re-buttoned his shirt, locating his jacket and bow tie with surprisingly shaky hands. At least it gave him time to recover, lest he lose all sense of self and pull her onto him to sate them both, there and then.
He watched her as she finally began to come back to herself. God, but she was beautiful. The need to have her still pounded through him, leaving him edgy and restless in a way he’d never experienced before.
Her eyes flickered to him, seeming to focus.
‘You’re dressed?’
The distraught shadow in those blue pools caught at him, pulling into a tight band around his chest. Around his sex.
‘I have to go back out to the gala,’ he gritted out. ‘It’s my role to raise money. For the charity.’
‘Of course.’ She pulled her mouth into a semblance of a smile although he wondered what it cost her. ‘This was sex. Just sex.’
And there was no reason for that to grate on him as it did.
‘And tonight, I intend there to be much more of it,’ he growled. ‘Properly. When we can take our time.’
‘More?’ Her hand fluttered to her chest and he found he rather liked it.
‘Much more,’ he echoed firmly. ‘Trust me, Anouk. That was just for starters.’
And then, before she could answer he spun around and left the room, not trusting himself. He had a duty to the charity, and the kids. But if he stayed another moment with Anouk, he wasn’t sure he could trust himself not to give in to temptation in the form of this bright, focussed, driven doctor with the blonde hair that sparkled like a glorious beach, and the blue eyes that made him sink fathoms deep.
And, goodness, he could still taste her sweetness on his tongue; still smell her on his fingers. And it was driving him to distraction.
She was driving him to distraction.
Who would have thought that the demure, strait-laced Anouk Hart would have ended up being his kryptonite?
CHAPTER FIVE
SOL SLAMMED HIS car door shut with a vicious whack of his arm and made his way across the hospital car park.
He’d been in a foul mood since the Gala.
Leaving Anouk in that room after such a teaser of her luscious body had been nearly impossible. Promising them both a night full of more carnal discoveries had been the only way he’d managed to get back out to the gala to carry out the role that had brought him there in the first place: to raise money and awareness for the young carers, the kids who already had enough responsibility for people in their lives, and he refused to let them down.
Even for Anouk.
But he couldn’t have anticipated that things would become so chaotic with Malachi, who had had to leave. It hadn’t occurred to him that the night with Anouk might not happen. But his body had been protesting it ever since.
Even this morning he’d woken in the early hours, his head full of images of Anouk, his body hard and ready. He would swear he could still taste her on his tongue; still close his eyes and feel the heat from her body against his chest. And decidedly lower.
As if he were an overeager adolescent.
When had any woman invaded his every thought like this? When had any woman made him...pine for her? It simply wasn’t his usual style.
Yet worse than any of that had been the fact that he’d wanted to tell her that he wasn’t as bad as his reputation painted him. Perhaps ten years ago he’d been a playboy, even eight years ago. But recently, between his career and the charity, he didn’t have time to seduce the sheer volume of women the rumours would have Anouk believe.
But, to what end?
What would it change?
He might no longer have the time, or the same inclination, for one-night stands with an endless procession of pretty, eager partners—but that hardly meant he was suddenly going to turn into the kind of commitment-ready man that a woman like Anouk would demand.
She might still be haunti
ng his brain, and his body, in a way that no other woman ever had, but that was surely just because that all too brief encounter in the office hadn’t quite been enough to slake their desire for one another. He still couldn’t offer her any more than no-strings sex.
So then why care whether his reputation was entirely accurate? It was close enough, wasn’t it? What did it matter what Anouk Hart thought of him?
Disgusted with himself, he had thrown the bedsheets back and stomped down to his home gym, running, rowing and carrying out a brutal training routine designed to really push his body. As if it could drive out the gnawing hunger he felt inside.
He shouldn’t want her with such hunger.
Attraction was one thing, but this desire he felt for Anouk was something infinitely more dangerous. It made him wonder, just for a moment, what a normal relationship would be like. And that was much too treacherous a path because he wasn’t like most normal people. He didn’t have that capacity for love that they had. Hadn’t his childhood taught him that? When his mother had been at her most vulnerable, when she’d most needed his care, he’d resented her. Hated her, even.
He had never gone to visit her in that centre Malachi had managed to get her into when he’d been fifteen. He’d only gone to her funeral a year later because Malachi had practically dragged him there by his ear. And he had resented every single second of it. Hadn’t he given that woman enough of his precious time and attention? Hadn’t he sacrificed his childhood for her? And hadn’t Malachi sacrificed even more?
All of which meant he wasn’t the kind of man for a woman like Anouk. He didn’t love a person, flaws and all. No, he honed in on any imperfections and magnified them until he couldn’t see past them to the person beneath. He used those flaws against them and Anouk deserved better than that.
She deserved better than him. If he thought anything of her at all then he would stay away from her.
At least the punishing training regime of the last couple of days seemed to have distracted his body. Hopefully, the demands of a shift in Neurology would occupy his head, as well.
What he hadn’t expected was to be called straight down to Resus only to find he was once again needed on Anouk’s team.
As if fate were personally throwing them together, he griped, striding through the doors only to come face to face with the woman who occupied too much of his brain. She stared at him in shock for several long seconds before dropping her eyes and switching back into professional mode.
Just like Anouk. Sol couldn’t help grinning to himself. He would have been disappointed if she hadn’t done so but at least she seemed as disquieted about his appearance as he felt. That was perhaps some consolation.
She cleared her throat and he knew he didn’t imagine that overly bossy tone was meant for him.
‘Okay, team, can you gather round a moment, please? We have a twenty-month-old girl who fell frontwards down a flight of concrete steps. ETA five minutes. Blood loss, but breathing and conscious. Helipad response team have gone up to the roof now to meet the HEMS. We’re just waiting for now.’
The team moved quickly, getting equipment, a fresh mattress, the right materials—a flurry of activity as they prepared for the new patient to arrive. And when it all stilled, he wasn’t prepared for Anouk to be standing right in front of him, a startled look on her face as though she hadn’t expected to turn around and find him there.
He tried reminding himself of all the reasons he should keep his distance, but suddenly he couldn’t think of a single one of them.
‘I see I’m not the only one to have been brightening up this place.’
Sol jerked his head to the two-foot counter-top Christmas tree, prettily decorated, on the centre computer tables. He had no idea where they came from, yet the words tripped off his tongue, low and teasing.
‘I didn’t do it,’ she retorted quickly.
Perhaps a little too quickly. And the way she flushed a deep scarlet made him unexpectedly curious. Was there something more to the story? Something that made her blush like a schoolgirl in front of him? Sol discovered he rather liked that idea.
‘Ah, but do you know who did?’ He took a stab in the dark, delighted when it seemed to pay off as her blush didn’t fade, but she did manage to look simultaneously murderous.
As well as ridiculously cute.
‘No.’
‘Isn’t that odd? I don’t think I believe you,’ he offered soberly, earning him a long-suffering eye-roll.
It delighted him beyond all measure.
‘Fine. Saskia did it,’ she bit out. ‘Now will you leave it alone?’
‘And you let her?’ he heard himself asking. Laughing.
‘I let her?’ Anouk folded her arms across her chest.
‘You let her decorate Resus? After the go you had at me for the bit of tinsel? Or did my words make you reconsider your rather military stance?’
Anouk scowled. He was obviously baiting her, so the last thing she should do was rise to it.
‘You think a lot of yourself, don’t you? And for the record, I don’t control Saskia.’
‘I never suggested you did.’ He grinned, beginning to enjoy himself now. ‘But she’s your best friend. I dare say she wouldn’t have done it if you’d asked her not to.’
She glowered, continuing to eye him silently, for several beats too long.
‘Fine,’ she conceded eventually, grudgingly. Rolling her eyes at him and sending a lick of heat straight through to his sex. ‘I thought it might be nice.’
‘Nice, huh?’
‘For the patients,’ she huffed. ‘You really do need to stop being so arrogant. I didn’t do it because you suggested it.’
‘Heaven forbid.’
He didn’t even attempt to conceal his chuckles.
‘In fact, like I said, I didn’t even do it at all.’
‘No, of course not. It was your friend. And I’m guessing you didn’t help her one bit.’
Her bristly demeanour gave her away, and Sol grinned broadly. It was nonsensical how much lighter and happier, Anouk made things—even when she was irritated with him she managed to flip some unseen switch to turn his day from aggravating to enjoyable.
Even when she was dealing with a casualty, he found his eyes lingered a fraction longer on Anouk. Something about her seeming to shine that little bit brighter than everyone else around her.
She was fascinating.
Which made her so much worse than simply hot.
Anouk had taken up residence in his head and was apparently claiming squatter’s rights. He couldn’t seem to eject her and the harder he tried, the deeper she seemed to insinuate herself.
Which left only one solution. A solution that he would never in his right mind have expected himself to consider, and that he couldn’t imagine any other woman in the world bringing him to.
The only way to stop himself from thinking about Anouk Hart was to convince her that they hadn’t finished what she’d started the other night. That they both wanted more. Which shouldn’t be too hard, given the sexual chemistry still crackling between them right now.
But he refused to lead her on. Just because he would be breaking his rule about second dates—not that it had been a proper first date, given that she hadn’t even let him take her to that ball—it didn’t mean he was offering her anything more. He wasn’t putting a relationship on the table.
Who are you trying to convince? The question popped, unbidden, into his head. Anouk or yourself?
He shoved it away for the nonsense it was, but its echo lingered, nonetheless.
He needed more of Anouk. He craved her. But it was clear that whatever madness—he flattered himself to think it was their intense attraction—had overcome her the night of the gala, she wasn’t going to let it get to her a second time. Not without a fight.
She’d pulled down the st
rait-laced shutters and set up the blockades of disapproval. But she didn’t quite manage to pull off forbidding with the same aplomb as before. There was a flash of memory in her expression, a spike of hunger in her glance.
He had no doubt that Anouk craved him every bit as much as he craved her. But her mind was trying to shut off all that her lush, rather wanton body was telling it.
Which meant that he was going to have to seduce her. Court her, as old Mrs Bowman would have said.
Old-fashioned, and prim.
But dammit all if a perverse portion of him didn’t relish the thought a little bit too much.
* * *
Did she really have to let Solomon Gunn affect her like this? Anouk thought shakily, her eyes locked on the doors at the end of Resus, waiting for the HEMS team to walk in.
She had veered from horror at her lustful display the night of the gala, to regret that they had only enjoyed one single, fiery, sensational act that night and she yearned for more. For the past two days it had been impossible to empty her head of the most vivid, thrilling, X-rated dreams that had kept her entire body smouldering.
No wonder she could barely bring herself to look him in the eye now, for fear that her every last wanton thought was etched right across her face for him to read.
Even now her body pricked with awareness, and she folded her arms over her chest as though she could dull the ache in her heavy nipples, as she relived the feel of his thumb skimming over them.
Mercifully, the doors chose that moment to swing open and the HEMS team hurried in.
‘This is Rosie, twenty months old,’ the HEMS doctor began handover. ‘Normally fit and well. Approximately one hour ago she was in the park with her mum when she tumbled a metre and a half down a flight of concrete steps. She has a laceration above her right eye and has had altered GCS. GCS is eleven. Primary diagnosis is that she has had concussion and a period of observation will determine whether there are any inter-cranial injuries. She’s had two hundred of paracetamol and one milligram ondansetron.’
‘Pupils?’ Anouk checked.
‘She won’t open her eyes.’ The HEMS doctor shook his head gently.
Unwrapping the Neurosurgeon's Heart Page 6