Tempted by Dr. Off-Limits

by Charlotte Hawkes

  ‘Stunning,’ he ground out.

  His rich, lusty voice seemed to resonate through her very sex, which was still deliciously sensitive after the care he had shown her before. Her long-deflated, crumpled ego began to unfurl and breathe life again.

  Tonight might be all they had, but she’d be damned if she wasted it on what-ifs. No, she would thoroughly indulge in every last second of what was left of this night together and then she would hold onto this moment, the memory of this man, for the rest of her life. Pushing herself up onto one elbow, Elle reached for Fitz with a new-found sense of confidence, a warmth spreading though her as he moved onto the bed to join her.

  She didn’t want to wait another second.

  Chapter Five

  FITZ DRANK IN the sight of her, completely naked and laid out on the bed before him looking every bit as enticing and delectable as she had tasted.

  ‘Stunning,’ he murmured unconsciously.

  God help him, she’d felt better than he’d been imagining all evening. Hotter, slicker, tighter. And she was reaching for him as though she couldn’t wait any longer.

  ‘We’ve got all night,’ he reminded her, scarcely recognising the raw heat of his own voice.

  It was immoral that a woman so bright and sexy and alive shouldn’t have been lavished every single day with the kind of attention he’d paid to her arresting body, and the realisation that her ex-fiancé had clearly hurt her in this way filled him with inexplicable rage. Yet at the same time Fitz felt an incongruous burst of triumph that he should be the one to open her eyes to it. That he should have been the one to sweep away her obvious reticence. That he had completely erased from her head her unspoken expectation that he’d somehow end up letting her down.

  He wanted to take his time, show her more of how it ought to be between two people, even if it was only for one night. But he didn’t think he could wait any longer. His erection was so rock-solid it was almost painful. He couldn’t remember ever wanting any other woman with such intensity.

  She ran her hands over his chest, his sides, his back, exploring every last inch of his torso, and then, her eyes flitting nervously to his, she grazed her nails gently against his skin. Fitz offered a soft groan of appreciation as his mouth fell to plunder hers, and then without warning her hand was moving around to take him in her hand, fitting him to her palm. His groan was instinctive and far more guttural this time, as he flexed against her.

  Something seemed to shift in her attitude as she realised the sexual power she had over him. A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. A hint, perhaps, of the young woman she’d been before something—or someone—had quashed her?

  ‘If we have all night,’ she observed, running her thumb around him and then over his tip, ‘surely we can slow things down next time.’

  ‘You’re sure that’s what you want?’ he managed gruffly.

  She lifted her heavy eyelids to look at him, those emerald depths almost black with lust, her breath already shallow and rapid.

  ‘Quite sure.’

  He didn’t need any further invitation. It took him seconds to open the foil square and roll the condom down his length, ignoring the little voice that taunted him that he’d been so caught up in Elle that he’d only remembered protection when it had fallen out of his pocket as he’d taken off his jeans. The bewitching creature had made him forget the one thing he’d been so fastidious about ever since...well, ever since what had happened with Janine.

  The baby he’d never fought for. The baby she had lost at three months because he hadn’t taken care of her the way he was supposed to have.

  He jerked his head up in frustration. These were the blackest of thoughts he’d locked away in a box over a decade ago, and had thought he’d thrown away the key. The beginnings of memories he didn’t want resurfacing, tonight of all nights. He’d slept with his fair share of women over the years and not one of them had ever pulled at something deep inside him, the way Elle seemed to.

  Angrily, he thrust all thoughts from his head.

  Tonight was supposed to be about indulging in a beautiful, intelligent woman. A woman who had made him crave her, a woman who seemed to want him with the same dark intensity.

  Fitz blocked out his mind and concentrated on Elle.

  Gently, he nudged her legs apart and covered her body with his, nestling into her wet heat and revelling in the slickness of their bodies moving over each other. And then he gave in to the aching need and slid inside her.

  Sensations rushed him, urging him on. Her soft gasp and low moan only pushed him further but he forced himself to go slowly, to give her a chance to stretch around him, to make sure she was ready. Carefully he moved, languorous slides in and out as he watched her, waiting for her to find his rhythm, to meet him, to match him. Until soon they were moving in perfect synchronicity, and she was arching her hips to draw him in deeper and drive him on. Faster and wilder.

  He layered butterfly kisses on her sweetly exposed neck when she let her head fall back, like nectar he had been denying himself for so long. And when he heard her gasp his name, a peculiar sense of euphoria flooded through him. A sense of possession.

  As if she were his.

  The realisation should have slammed him with more force. It should have set alarm bells clanging wildly in his head. It should have made him feel guilty for beginning this madness. He’d sworn to himself back in the street that whatever it was Elle possessed that seemed to stealthily intrude inside him in a way nothing else ever had, he would control it.

  Instead, he was imagining she was his. Wondering what it would be like to come back to this strong, characterful, beautiful woman again and again. Stupid. Because that could never happen. She could never be his, he had nothing to offer but pain and betrayal. He should never have begun this madness with her. But he hadn’t been able to help himself, inexorably drawn to her as though her brilliance, her energy could somehow illuminate the darkness in him.

  Then she cried his name a second time and he was lost again, consumed by his need for her. And as her body gripped his and she exploded around him with shudder after shudder of her release, he gave himself up completely to the pleasure of her all around him. Seconds later, he followed.

  If this was the start of their night together then he could only wish it would never end. Imagine it would never end. For this one night he could pretend he wasn’t damaged, wasn’t incomplete, that he was the kind of man who could make a woman like Elle happy in life, not just in bed.

  She made him feel like he was more than just a good colonel, a good soldier, a good engineer. Elle made him feel that somewhere deep inside he was good man. And, just this once, he wanted to believe it.

  He could deal with the fallout later.

  * * *

  Fitz checked his mobile. Zero-five-hundred. He really should get going, back to barracks. He wasn’t required specifically but his visible presence around the barracks would be good for his men’s morale, especially for those who hadn’t been on operational duty before and especially because this was his new role as their commanding officer.

  He eased himself out of the bed, but as he rolled Elle rolled too, as though seeking out his warmth, and so help him he couldn’t tear himself away. He didn’t want to. He kissed her as she pressed herself against him, his own reaction instantaneous at the feel of her silken skin all along the length of his body.

  ‘I have to leave,’ he whispered, making no effort at all to untwine himself from her arms.

  ‘Already?’

  Sleepily seductive, she stretched languorously until she realised exactly what she was stretching against. Her eyes flew open wide.

  ‘Morning,’ he managed wryly.

  She peered at the clock and grumbled good-naturedly.

  ‘Barely. You really have to go?’

  ‘I have time for breakfast.’ The words slipped out
before his mind had a chance to engage.

  ‘Really?’

  No.

  ‘Yes.’

  Quickly, quietly she slipped out of bed, unashamedly searching for her clothes as though being with him here the morning after wasn’t awkward or strange at all. And he liked it. He liked her confidence, her strength, the certainty that last night hadn’t been a mistake.

  He pulled his T-shirt over his head, watching as she slipped her feet into tiny ballet pumps from the wardrobe across the room, and then, as she rounded the bed, he reached impulsively for her hand.

  ‘Come on, I know a little bakery nearby. I’ll take you there.’

  Steadfastly he ignored the part of his brain telling him he should get going. He ignored it as they walked, hand in hand with an intimacy he’d never known before, down the deserted streets. He ignored it as he easily talked his old friend into letting them into the bakery before it was supposed to be open. He ignored it while he listened to Elle’s soft voice chatting to him as the early sunlight danced over her animated features and played with the light as it bounced off hair he longed to lose his fingers in again and again. And as she watched him curiously, he couldn’t help asking what it was she was thinking.

  She hesitated, a shy smile tugging at her lips.

  ‘I didn’t think this was what the morning after would look like.’ She ducked her head and concentrated on a few crumbs of her almond croissant, unable to meet his eyes.

  ‘What did you expect?’ he heard himself asking, as if him leaving wasn’t how he’d expected the early hours to unfold either.

  ‘I thought you’d be gone. Sneaking away in the night. You told me you didn’t do relationships.’

  ‘I don’t.’ He took another sip of his black coffee, aware of the irony.

  ‘Yet here you are.’ She finally lifted her head. ‘You don’t seem as emotionally disconnected as you like people to think.’

  Her words should have alarmed him. Instead, he felt immeasurably sad.

  ‘You don’t know me.’

  ‘So tell me.’

  And instead of shutting her down, he thought of the way she’d opened up to him last night. How she’d bravely told him about her sexual experiences with her ex. He’d thrilled in showing her exactly how good it could be, his own body hardening beyond anything he’d ever experienced at the sound of her coming undone in his arms.

  Now the words came from nowhere he recognised. A dark place within him that he’d locked down so many years ago, like a kid with a scary monster in the closet. But the light she shone made everything less frightening.

  ‘My father was army, like me,’ he began, hesitantly at first. ‘Only he wasn’t a commissioned officer, he was a nineteen-year-old corporal with his sights set on staff sergeant and beyond when he met my mother. A couple of months later she found she was pregnant and they got married. He always resented being tied down. He took it out on my mother, usually with his fists, usually when he’d been out drinking, although I didn’t know about it for years. My mother had always been terrified he’d hurt me so she did the only thing she felt she could, and took the beatings in silence as long as he left me alone, and later my sister.’

  ‘Fitz!’ Elle gasped, and tried to disguise it, but Fitz didn’t miss her shock. He fought to shut out the memories, so old and repressed they were like a silent black and white movie in his head now. But they still made his heart thump furiously in his chest, like it was trying to ram its way out. Like it was trying to escape.

  ‘Mum and I used to breathe a sigh of relief every time he walked out that door with his kitbag for another tour, especially if he’d been home a while. Him being away meant months of blissful peace, and if we were lucky and he went somewhere else for R&R, we might even get a full year.’

  ‘Were you close, then? You and your mum?’ Elle asked gently.

  ‘Sort of.’ He hunched his shoulders. No emotions, just facts. He couldn’t explain this urge to talk to Elle, just that it was there. But that didn’t mean he was ready to actively think about it, feel it. Not yet.

  ‘But my mother was as unhappy in her own way as he was. Neither of them had wanted to marry the other, but they’d had no choice. Add to that the fact he beat her, and it made for a fairly unpleasant life. I never lacked for anything in terms of food, clothing, toys. She worked hard, and in her own way she loved me, but she was never exactly the huggy sort of mum from American TV shows. It was never a happy home, not exactly full of love.’

  ‘It’s all relative, isn’t it?’ Elle murmured, almost to herself. ‘I thought I had it bad with my stepmother, but at least I got to experience something better before that. I knew it didn’t have to be that way.’

  Fitz shrugged, unable to answer that.

  ‘Maybe. But maybe it’s worse. Sometimes words can hurt as much as fists. If someone says you’re worthless, stupid, unwanted often enough, you can start to believe them.’

  Elle nodded sadly.

  ‘My stepmother was devious. She’d pretend to be okay when my father was around but when he wasn’t, she was spiteful and vindictive. If I hadn’t had Stevie, if I’d been a bit younger, I might have let her win. In many ways I got lucky, but then it only added to my guilt later for not loving him.’

  ‘He didn’t deserve your love.’ A stab of jealousy sliced through him.

  ‘But he deserved my honesty.’

  ‘Words are powerful tools in the right hands,’ Fitz said slowly. ‘But powerful weapons in the wrong ones.’

  Elle met his gaze, thoughtful and open.

  ‘Or else they’re meaningless,’ she countered. ‘Stevie used to tell me he loved me, but all the while he was cheating on me. I think I’d far rather have actions over words.’

  Fitz nodded but said nothing. He knew he would too, but he hadn’t any right to it. He’d always failed in his actions. In trying to be everything his father hadn’t been, he’d ended up acting in precisely the same self-serving way. He couldn’t escape his nature, it seemed.

  ‘So what happened, Fitz?’ Elle touched his arm sadly and Fitz worked to loosen his tightly clamped jaw.

  ‘When I was fifteen he got injured and he was home for a long while. Things just deteriorated. One night, or at least the early hours of the next morning, he came in steaming drunk. I don’t know what she said or did, probably nothing, but he completely lost it. I remember hearing her trying to muffle her screams so she didn’t wake me or my two-year-old baby sister. Something snapped in me. One minute I was in my bed and the next I was in my parents’ bedroom and my dad was lying flat out on the floor and I was threatening to kill him if he ever touched her again.’

  Despite the monochrome background of the rest of the memory, he could still see the bright red stain on the dirty carpet from his father’s bloodied nose. And the absolute shock on the old man’s face.

  ‘He hit you?’

  ‘He didn’t dare,’ Fitz snorted bitterly. ‘A bully doesn’t pick on someone he can’t intimidate. But he never touched my mother after that. In fact, he pretty much never returned to their army house after that. They stayed married, at least for appearances, but he took posts that meant he was stationed away. He did courses during his downtime, and on the couple of occasions he really didn’t have anywhere else to go, my mother took my sister and me to visit her sister, who was married to a soldier and stationed abroad.’

  ‘So you never really saw him again?’

  ‘Not really. He’d never been interested in a family anyway. His wife and son had been imposed on him. My sister was the product of a married couple who went through the motions. So, no, we didn’t really see him again. Not until that last time.’

  ‘What happened the last time, Fitz?’ Elle half-whispered, as though a part of her already suspected it wasn’t good.

  He hunched his shoulders, feeling suddenly chilled in the otherwise pleasant l
ate-afternoon air. Suddenly it wasn’t easy to tell her anything more. Suddenly, he wished he’d never started. The words were lodged thick and painful, choking in his throat.

  ‘The night he came back was the night they died.’

  ‘The car crash,’ she said quietly.

  Guilt, anger, grief, all of which had been simmering barely beneath the surface until now, suddenly rushed Fitz so hard he felt physically winded. It took him several long moments to regulate his breathing enough to answer her.

  ‘Yes,’ he bit out. ‘I don’t want to talk about that any more. I don’t usually. Last night was the anniversary of their deaths. It’s been eighteen years and I realised that I’ve now been without them, without her, for longer than I ever had her. I guess it just got to me.’

  ‘It would get to anyone!’ Elle exclaimed.

  ‘So let’s just close it down now and enjoy the last hour or so we have left.’

  It wasn’t a request and he could see her biting back whatever she’d been about to say.

  ‘Of course,’ she said instead.

  So they did. Fitz fought to shrug off the unwanted, alien emotions and the acknowledgement that talking to Elle had been far more cathartic than he could ever have imagined. And he let himself enjoy the last hour as they made their way back to the hotel, and to her room, and he couldn’t stop himself from making love to her one more time. This time, when he woke he slid carefully out of the bed, seeing her hair puddled on the white pillow like a splash of light, and dressed in silence. Wishing they had more time.

  Not knowing what difference that would have made.

  He headed for the door, opening it softly to let himself out, before stepping back inside, crossing the room and snatching up a pen and paper from the desk under the mirror and jotting down his phone number.