by Tracy Wolff
But that didn’t mean that she couldn’t enjoy what they had now, she told herself, sliding down his body to lick at his flat, muscular abs. He groaned, tangling his hands in her hair, and she grinned against his stomach. Lowered her mouth to skim his navel, then moved lower still, making sure not to touch where he wanted her most.
It was a game they’d played long ago, Amanda driving him as crazy as she could without actually taking him in her mouth, and it amazed her how quickly it came back to her, even after all this time. “Mandy, baby,” he told her in a voice gone husky with desire, “please. Not now. I need you. I need this.”
His plea shot straight to the heart of her, and she couldn’t resist—she took him in her mouth, reveling in the way his hands clutched at her hair, his body moving restlessly against her.
She pulled him inside her mouth, sucked and stroked, licked and laved, until he was pleading with every breath he took. Only then did she take him deep. He stiffened, groaned, then pushed her away.
“I CAN’T TAKE ANYMORE,” he told her hoarsely.
“That’s the point, isn’t it?” She reached for him again.
It wasn’t the point, not for him, not this time. It felt so good to have Amanda back in his arms that all he wanted was to hold her, love her. And when he came, he wanted to be deep inside of her. He was smart enough to know that after twelve years and a dozen countries, this was probably their last chance. Because of that, he wanted to brand her, mark her, hold her to him forever. He couldn’t stand the idea of losing her, not again.
Leaning forward, he took her mouth with his own, using his lips and tongue to arouse her—to soothe her—in a way he never had before. He wanted her, God did he want her, but even more overwhelming than the desire blasting through him was the tenderness he felt for her.
He nipped at her lower lip, reveling in the sexy moan that followed, and sucked it into his mouth.
She went wild, her body bucking against him. Wrenching her mouth from his, she skimmed her lips down his neck and over his shoulder, and he shuddered with the effort it took to restrain himself when he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her forever.
Reaching up, he cupped her face in one of his hands and just looked at her. From the little lines starting at the corner of her glorious eyes to the small scar that ran along the edge of her jaw to the random scattering of freckles that decorated her nose, he memorized her. Pulled her face, pulled her, deep inside him. Whenever reporting in some messed-up place got to him, whenever his guilt over Gabby threatened to overwhelm him, he would pull up this memory and remember that there was good in the world.
She’d always been a little shy, a little self-conscious, so he was afraid she’d pull away. Instead, she lay very still and let him look his fill. And, he realized with a little surprise, watched him as intently as he was watching her.
When his need to be inside her was nearly overwhelming, he moved over her so that every part of her body was covered by every part of his. He wanted to feel her everywhere.
Bending forward, he kissed the softness of her lips, the corners of her mouth. She was like the richest, smoothest velvet.
He wanted to be gentle, to give her the tenderness she both needed and deserved. But the moment her tongue tangled with his, he was lost. Lust rose, sharp and terrible and all-consuming. He ignored it, beat it down, kissed her some more. He was unwilling to give up her lips, unable to break the connection when everything inside of him clamored to be a part of her. To make her a part of him. He didn’t lift his mouth until she whimpered, gasped for air.
Using his free hand, he pushed her shirt up, then slowly pulled the garment over her head so that he could see her small, round breasts and beautiful rose nipples. She was amazing, glorious, and as he ran his tongue around her areola, he had only one thought in his mind. To make her his, once and for all.
Then he forgot everything but the ecstasy of being with her as he licked and kissed his way over every inch of her body. He explored the curve of her shoulder, the bend in her elbow, the back of her knee. Then tickled her ribs with his tongue before moving between her legs and tasting her. Claiming her.
He slid his tongue over her sex, once, twice, loving the spicy scent and taste of her. Slipped inside of her and stroked her as her hands clutched at his hair, his shoulders. When he ran his tongue over the hard button of her clit, she sighed and moaned.
And then, with a quick flick of his tongue and a stroke of his fingers, he brought her to climax. Pulling back, desperate to see her, he worked his thumb over her, intensifying Amanda’s orgasm even as he watched her take her pleasure. Her back bowed, her hips moved languorously against his hand, and her skin flushed a pretty pink that called to him, urging him to take all of her.
He was hard to the point of pain, but he wasn’t ready to give up the view quite yet. Not when she was spread before him like a feast.
When she finally stilled, he spread her legs a little wider, then simply looked at her. Trailed a finger over the warm, slick folds, reveling in the feel of her desire for him.
“Simon!” It was a plea and they both knew it. “I want you.”
“You have me,” he murmured, sliding first one finger and then another into her, nearly losing it at the unbelievable perfection of her body. She was tight, hot, her muscles clenching his finger in a rhythm that resonated all the way to his erection.
Suddenly he knew he couldn’t take any more. Rolling onto his back, he reached into the nightstand by his bed and pulled out a condom. After rolling it quickly down his cock, he pulled Amanda over him and, with his hands on her hips, gently guided her onto him.
She cried out as he sank into her, arched her back and clutched at his hands until he twined his fingers with hers. Something about that connection, that joining of Amanda’s hands with his as she rode him, sent him right to the edge of his control.
Fighting to hang on, never wanting the feeling to end—never wanting the closeness between them to dissipate—he clung to sanity even as her breath grew quicker and her movements more frantic. He reveled in the feel of her around him, rejoiced in the slight pressure of her warm weight on his stomach as she slowly moved herself up and down him.
“Simon,” she moaned breathlessly and he knew it was a plea, knew she was close to shattering again. And he loved it.
She gasped, arched, and he whispered, “Come for me, baby. Let me feel you.”
And she did, her back arching as the waves exploded through her. Her sex clenched him again and again, pulling him deeper. Taking him home.
At the last minute, she leaned down and brushed her lips over his as her crazy, smoky eyes looked deep into his own. That was all it took, those moments of connection so deep and profound that he couldn’t help feeling they would be tangled together forever.
With a moan, he let himself go and gave her everything he had inside of him. Everything he had to give.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SEVERAL MINUTES LATER, Amanda stirred against him. “I’ve got to get up. I have to be at work by nine.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist, held her long, lean body against his for a little longer. “Call in sick,” he said. “We can stay in bed all day.”
“It’s only my second week. That doesn’t seem like the most optimum way to keep my job.”
“And that’s what you want?” he asked, lifting his head to look at her. “To continue working at that clinic?”
She smiled at him, and in her face he saw shades of the old Amanda. The woman he had fallen in love with so long ago, and whom he’d thought was lost to him—and the world—forever.
“I really do. It’s different than For the Children, but I think it was time for a change. Here, I can really help, you know? I can get to my patients before they’re bloated from hunger or wasting away from an illness twenty dollars of antibiotics could cure. Here, I don’t have to hold babies dying of AIDS, knowing there’s nothing I can do for them.
“Besides, so many of t
he people I help don’t have insurance or enough money to pay for a doctor in a regular office. They can’t be seen anywhere else—and I like that I can help them.”
It was the most passionate Amanda had sounded in a long time and it made him happy in a way he hadn’t felt in years. He thought about what had just happened between them—not only the lovemaking but the conversation that had come before—and wondered if any of it would have been possible just a few weeks earlier. He doubted it, which meant he owed Lucas and his clinic big-time.
Which wasn’t to say he wouldn’t deck the bastard if he kept sniffing around Amanda. Gratitude only got a guy so far, after all.
Leaning forward, he brushed a kiss against her lips, then went back for a second and a third. It felt good to hold her again, without all the pain and angst between them. They’d always share Gabby’s loss, always have that sorrow between them, but for the first time since Gabby’s death, he felt hope.
Amanda’s hands crept down his chest to his stomach, and he groaned as he caught them with his own. “We need to go. Since you’re so fond of that job of yours, we have to get you there on time. I assume you don’t have a car here?”
“You assume correctly.”
“Then let’s take a quick shower. I’ll run you by your house so you can change before I take you to work.” When she didn’t move, he lifted an eyebrow. “Okay?”
She nodded and he got the feeling that he wasn’t the only one having trouble talking. “More than okay.”
“Good.” Because he couldn’t resist, he kissed her breathless one more time. Then pulled away with a satisfied grin and said, “Last one in the shower washes the other’s back.”
Amanda was off the bed in a flash, and in the bathroom before he was even halfway across the room.
Lucky him.
FOUR HOURS LATER, he wasn’t feeling so lucky. In fact, as he pulled into the clinic’s parking lot, he wondered if he’d even find Amanda here or if she’d gone out to lunch. He’d hoped to take her himself so that he could explain about the assignment that had just come up, but time had gotten away from him. That happened when you had to drop everything and prepare to leave the country with just a couple of hours’ notice. Which normally he would have loved. But now, as things between him and Amanda were getting on track, not so much.
But when he walked in the clinic—a run-down building with a packed waiting room and nowhere near enough staff for the demand—he saw her right away. She was standing behind the front counter talking to an elderly African-American woman. About her medicine, he guessed, judging from the samples in the older woman’s hands.
“You need to go to the window over there if you want to see the doctor,” the woman behind the desk said, pointing to a long line at the other end of the counter.
“I just need to speak with Dr. Jacobs for a second—”
“Then you need to go get in that line over there.” She turned away and began working on a file.
“But I’m not a patient. I wanted to—”
“Tell it to the nurse,” she said, not bothering to look up.
“It’s okay, Latonya.” Amanda came up and rescued him. “He’s my…”
Both Latonya and Simon looked at her, waiting to see how she was going to finish that sentence, though Simon figured he had a little more invested than the office manager.
“Friend,” Amanda finally said, after a long pause. “He’s my friend.”
Friend? Simon scowled at the description, but didn’t correct her.
Stepping around the counter, Amanda asked, “What are you doing here?”
“I had a little time this afternoon and thought I’d see if you were available for lunch.”
“Lunch?” she asked, as if the concept was completely foreign to her.
“You know, that meal you eat around midday,” he told her, exasperated. “Amanda, for someone who promised to take better care of her health, skipping lunch isn’t exactly the best move.”
“It’s not that. I guess I’m used to meeting you somewhere instead of having you come here.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m supposed to go to lunch in fifteen minutes. Do you mind hanging out for a little while?”
“Not at all.”
“Great. I have two more patients to see and then we go.”
It was closer to thirty minutes when she finally showed her face in the front again, but Simon didn’t mind. The extra time had given him a chance to arrange the last of the details for the trip. After lunch, he’d stop by his apartment for the bag he always kept packed and then head straight to the airport. He shook his head. It was selfish of him, but he really couldn’t help wishing the Middle East had waited a little longer before imploding.
“So, where do you want to go?” he asked Amanda as they walked outside.
“There’s a good sandwich place a couple of blocks up,” she answered. “You want to try it out?”
“Sure.” He wanted to hold on to her hand, but didn’t know how she’d feel about that—especially in her place of work. At the same time, he wanted her boss to know that the field was not clear. He might be disappearing for a couple of weeks, but he had no intention of giving Amanda up—not when he’d finally gotten her back again.
In the end, he didn’t have to do anything, because Amanda looped her arm through his as they walked through the small parking lot to the street. “I’m glad you came by,” she told him, resting her head on his shoulder for a brief second.
“Oh, yeah? Why is that?”
“Do I have to have a reason? Maybe I like spending time with you.”
He liked that, a lot.
They chatted about random things for the rest of the walk—the humid weather, a movie they both wanted to see, places to go in the city. It wasn’t until they were seated in the restaurant, and had placed their order, that he finally broached the subject of his trip.
“I need to tell you something.” He watched with concern as her smile dimmed.
“When do you leave for the Middle East?” She made a face at his confusion. “What? You think we don’t have a TV at the clinic? I knew as soon as I saw the bombings that you’d be off to Lebanon before the day was over.”
“I leave in two hours—charter flight.”
She nodded. “Take care of yourself over there.”
“That’s it?” He knew he probably looked ridiculous the way he was staring at her, mouth open in astonishment.
“I’m not sure what you expect. A big-band send-off?”
“I thought you’d be…angry, I guess.”
“Because you’re doing your job?” she asked incredulously. “Come on, Simon. I’m not that kind of lover. You know that. I’ve never gotten angry at you for doing your job—”
“I remember differently.”
“No. I got angry when you used your job to run away from a reality you didn’t like. When you took on extra stories or special reports to get away from problems we were having, or Gabby’s illness, or whatever it was you couldn’t control. It’s not the same thing.”
He blanched to hear her speak so matter-of-factly about his biggest shame. “This isn’t like that. I swear.”
“I know.” She leaned back to let the waitress put their food on the table. “Go do what you need to do, Simon. I’ll be here when you get back. Just don’t forget to call me this time—at least twice, so I know that you’re okay.”
“You could always watch my broadcasts,” he said, tongue-in-cheek. He couldn’t believe how happy her easy acceptance made him.
“I always do. Your broadcasts are what made me fall for you all those years ago. They show the best part of you, the one you try to keep hidden the rest of the time.” She winked at him, then popped a potato chip in her mouth right before changing the subject.
THREE WEEKS LATER, Amanda wasn’t feeling so accepting. Simon had been gone for twenty-two days—the Middle East kept getting hotter—and except for the first day, to tell her he’d gotten there safely, he hadn’t called. That annoy
ed her, even as it worried her. If she hadn’t been able to see his updates on television every night, she probably would have been beside herself.
As it was, every time she saw him she felt a rush of relief that he was safe, followed by an overwhelming surge of anger she couldn’t ignore. Each night that passed without a phone call, a text, an email, made her just a little bit angrier—at Simon and herself.
She’d thought he—and their relationship—had changed. She knew they were at the beginning stages of learning how to be a couple again, but she’d thought she’d made her expectations clear. She expected to be kept in the loop this time, to be more than a convenience when he passed through town.
Her expectations had obviously been too high, and that was her fault. Completely.
But the fact that he was being an ass and not calling, that was all on Simon. It was hard to hide their true natures when they’d known each other so long. He knew that she was terrified of failing, and she knew that after sliding from foster home to foster home as a child, Simon was as terrified of growing attached to someone.
That didn’t mean she was willing to put up with it. Not anymore. If they were going to form a lasting relationship, they would both have to learn to call each other on their shit. Otherwise, this would never work.
The fact that she was thinking of this thing between them as permanent—or even semipermanent— surprised her a lot. Two months ago, she would no more have considered getting serious about Simon than she would have dreamed about being happy again.
But sometimes, two months made a big difference in your life—and especially in how you viewed the world. She still missed Gabby terribly, still thought of her a million times every day, but she no longer wanted to climb into the grave beside her daughter.
And she no longer resented Simon. Oh, she was pissed as hell at him for not finding a way around his own neuroses and calling her, but she wasn’t going to use it as an excuse to put distance between them. Not this time. She was going to hang tight—after she gave him a piece of her mind. But if he ever did this again, after she educated him, there would be hell to pay.