by S. M. West
I want her. Always do.
But what happens tomorrow when our lust is satiated and the harsh glare of reality rises like the sun, blindingly irrefutable and unforgiving? What then?
“Last night, like everything else, is in the past. I will keep you safe and get to the bottom of this. I will let nothing happen to you. Ever.” I cup her face in my hand, staring intently at her. “And then we can go back to our lives.”
My last words are sand, gritty and bland on my tongue, and I drop my hands to my sides.
“I don’t want to go back to how things were.” She runs a hand down my chest, stopping just above where we are joined. “I’ve missed you. Every day. And I meant everything I said last night. I wasn't drunk.” Her hands cup my face and there’s a pinch in my chest.
“Why it took me so long to do something about it…” Her head dips and she pauses so close to my mouth. “It isn’t easy to admit I’m wrong. You know, all us doctors think we’re gods among men.”
She laughs, a mixture of melancholy and toying in her gaze. I join her in spite of this mind-altering conversation. I used to joke about her chosen profession and how she had to be careful not to become an egomaniac.
“I don’t know what to say to this. Nothing has changed. I can’t change my past.” My body is too tight, the muscles at the back of my neck as hard as stone, joints stiff and my limbs tingling.
“I don’t expect that of you. I’m the one who fucked things up.” She grips the sides of my face once more. “I want a second chance.”
I want to believe her. Fuck, my heart is all in and so is pretty much every other part of my body, but my head knows better.
She isn’t lying. Every word out of her mouth must feel like the truth, but she’s scared, her life is on the line. I’m familiar and…we did once love each other. Both believing we’d be together forever.
Fuck.
Reality will crush us. We can hide from it but not forever.
Her face comes close to mine, angling her head to one side and blinking an eye rapidly as she nears my cheek. Shit, no.
Her eyelashes softly graze my cheek.
Ticklish.
Sensuous.
Butterfly kisses.
This was always our thing.
How many times had I imagined this very sensation? Her warm breath caressing my jaw, lashes stroking my skin. A million times. Easily.
Heck, I’d even started it the other night with a kunik, rubbing the tip of my nose against hers. My knees had almost buckled, and the years apart had almost been erased. It was like nothing had changed. Almost.
Her fingers track across my cheekbones and I’m focused solely on the here and now and what she’s doing to me. Both inside and outside.
Still holding my head in place, her nose rubs back and forth against mine and a warmth stirs deep within my chest, uncurling and spreading. My eyelashes flutter closed at the swoosh sweeping through me, and my fingers sink into her waist.
What the hell is she doing to me?
Lastly, her lips touch mine. It isn’t a long or deep kiss, more a peck, but it’s sweet and gentle. And that does it.
Whatever sense of self-preservation I have left is gone. Poof, vanishes into thin air. None of my concerns or hesitations are of any importance.
All I want is her.
Caro. To claim her, to have her.
My fingers tangle in her hair and I deepen the kiss. Her lips crinkle into a smile against mine and she opens wider, our kiss shifting from sweet and tentative to vicious and greedy.
Caro
He combs his fingers through my hair, setting my scalp on fire as his lips rove from my jaw to kiss my neck. In one swift move, he turns with me in his arms and places me on my back on the couch, fingers working fast to remove my shirt and bra.
Just as eager to have him naked, I tug at his shirt, exposing his chest, and my fingers linger on his cut muscles. I revel at how his abs ripple and twitch under my touch. His responsiveness sends an electric pulse through my fingertips and straight to my core.
Dark, hooded eyes, corded neck, and the firm set of his jaw intent on me is a heady, overpowering sensation. One arm brackets one side of my head and his body weighs on me. It’s glorious and not enough.
He pushes on his one hand, eyes dipping down and between us, and his smoldering gaze nearly scorches my bare breasts. Then his tongue is trailing a path through the center of my chest, lazy and lavish, descending lower and lower.
My nipples bead and tighten, skin on fire, as his hand slips into my panties, and shamelessly, my hips rock against his fingers, rubbing right where I need him the most.
“Fuuuck, Caro.” He leans his forehead against mine. “You’re so wet. So ready. And it’s all for me.”
A soft, needy sob pours from the back of my throat, and the noise spurs him on, fingers increasing their tempo. Bright stars dance on the backs of my eyelids and the intensity is blinding.
“Kit,” I scream, arching my back, my muscles tense, strung tight like a bow.
My core clenches and I explode. Not a single massive spasm, but many, so many. My entire body is racked with mind-numbing bliss.
Incoherent sounds and words spill from my lips as my fingers dig into the cushion of the couch, at his back, anywhere I can gain purchase, and through it all, he doesn’t let up.
He works his magical fingers deep inside of me, wringing out every last ounce of pleasure. And my orgasm is never-ending.
Finally, I come down and a wide grin runs wild across my face. I wipe a tear from the corner of my eye, blinking up at him. His grin is gorgeous and breath-stealing, dimples as bright as stadium lights.
“God, I missed you.” I stretch, delighting in the wonderful afterglow of my climax.
Deep, rough laughter spills from his parted lips and his eyes hold a satisfied sparkle. “Good.”
I sit up, meeting his lips with mine, relishing a slow, long kiss before falling back onto the sofa. The back of my hand covers my mouth, stifling a yawn, and he quirks a brow.
“You’re not going to fall asleep on me, are you?”
“Oh, God, no.” A rush of heat climbs up my neck, embarrassed I passed out on him last night after my toe-curling orgasm. What a fool. “We’re only getting started.”
My fingers wrestle with the button of his pants, feeling his hard length against the tightly stretched fabric. He helps, quickly discarding his pants, and grabs at my hands, ready to wrap around his hard cock.
“Condom? Or are you still on the pill? I’m clean.” Urgency frays his words that come out as heavy pants. “I’ve never been bare with anyone but you.”
His words hit me in waves, intense and drugging. I’m undone. His admission of being skin to skin with only me is so powerful and overwhelming.
I need him now. I ache for him. His love for me fuels my arousal, drenches my sex, and coats my thighs.
“Me neither,” I’m quick to answer, pressing my legs together. “I don’t want anything between us. I’m on the pill.”
I reach for his hips, needing to hold him. To lose myself in his scent, the feel of him inside me. He nods, nudging his erection at my entrance, one hand sliding under my ass for a better angle. Gazes locked, he thrusts into me, setting a deep and steady rhythm.
The feel of him, filling me, setting me on fire, brings more tears to my eyes and our bodies move like one.
His mouth covers mine, drinking my cries, feeding on my pleasure as if he’s only now coming to life. This is more than sex, and not just for me but for both of us. Raw and exposed, his soulful eyes gaze into mine. He’s seeing me, really seeing me as I see him.
He pumps hard and fast into me, stretching me and hitting the spot, the one that does crazy things to my body, over and over again. Hips gyrating and skin slick with sweat, his hair is now damp and falls over his forehead.
My fingers slide through his locks and I rock into him, lifting my hips to meet every one of his thrusts. His body tenses, muscles as hard as s
teel, and our gazes are still locked. This man, so utterly perfect.
Tender, savage, protective, and mine. The most incredible feeling of being loved rolls over me in waves.
Then he’s kissing me hard and fervently as he slams wildly into me, no longer measured and rhythmic, more frenzied. Then snap. Every inch of him hardens, the veins in his neck bulge and he goes off with a roar, coming inside of me.
I go with him, throwing myself off the cliff as he buries his face in my neck. Goosebumps break out along my spine, my orgasm flowing through me fast and furious, leaving me shattered.
“Christ, Caro.” Slanting his head, he seizes my lips in a kiss, both loving and hungry.
Our night is much more of the same. We sleep for a few hours and then wake, one or both of us needing the other, and we make love. The next morning, we wake up later than usual, both lazy and satisfied.
“We should get up, shouldn’t we?” Even as I ask it, the answer is obvious.
Still no texts from the unknown number or Elliot, and the silence makes me nervous. I don’t know which is worse, another threat or nothing.
We are out of time and if they follow through on their threat, it could be anything. I hate the waiting and not knowing. Flora is our last chance at any indication as to what Elliot is up to or where we can find him.
“Yeah, we should.” Kit captures my lips for a kiss. “We’re going to get lucky today.”
His voice carries optimism, and I wonder if he really believes that or if it’s for my benefit.
“Really?” I push up onto my elbows and rest my hands on his warm, solid chest. “I think I already got lucky.” I kiss the center where his heart is. “I don’t want to push my luck. You’re all I need.”
I mean it. Even in our current predicament, I wouldn’t change a thing if it meant I’d be without Kit. All we’ve been through, so far, has been worth it. Yes, even the horrifying explosion.
“You’ve got me. Always.” He raises his head to lightly kiss my forehead. “I think we’re due some more luck. We’ve been years apart and we’ve got to catch a break on this whole nightmare.”
Hands wrapping around my arms, he sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed, bringing me to sitting. “C’mon. Let’s get clean. I’ll wash your front.”
He winks, arching a dark brow, his eyes laser-focused on my breasts. His hazel pupils liquefy.
“I can do my chest but I could use some help with my back.” I leap from the bed, running to the bathroom on a giggle.
Large hands capture my waist as I hit the tiled floor and he hoists me over his shoulder. “I tell you what, let me wash all of you.”
He smacks my bare ass, and the sting is quickly followed by a warm soothing rub of his palm. The pleasure and pain flood my core and I’m all too happy to let him have his way with me.
After our long and pleasurable shower, we grab breakfast and get ready for the day. Flora is our only task today and we get to the clinic in time for her lunch.
The walk-in clinic in Deer Park is busy, and we’re third in line to talk to the nurse at the front desk. This is Flora, and she’s talking to a mother with a crying baby. No, the diminutive Filipino woman isn’t the child’s mother, more like the nanny.
Flora Brown is in her late twenties with bird-like features, straw-colored hair to her shoulders, and is dressed in sky-blue scrubs. She’s pixie-like and pretty, how I remember her.
At first she’s pleasant, an inviting expression for those of us waiting while the nanny maneuvers a top-of-the-line stroller with wheels big enough for off-roading adventures.
Flora makes eye contact with Kit and her smile widens, quickly shifting into a scowl at the sight of me at his side.
“What did you do to her?” he mumbles, a twinkle in his eyes as he leans into me.
“What?” I frown, confused. I never did anything to Flora.
“She doesn’t like you.” His gaze returns to the sprite of a young woman straining to see past the old man leaning over the desk in front of her.
Flora no longer looks the least bit attractive even with her delicate features. Daggers shoot from her blue eyes, fixed on me. As we step up to the counter, she straightens in her chair, chin out defiantly. She’s staring at Kit and I might as well not be here.
“Hello, how may I help you?” Obnoxiously forward like always, she paws at his arm resting on the desktop and my insides seethe at her touching him.
To make matters worse, he doesn’t blink or pull away. Instead he volleys a flirtatious response while taking her tiny hand in his.
“Hey, I’m Kit, and it’s nice to meet you, Flora.”
She flushes, basking in the attention, and I want to gag.
“Hi, Kit. Love the name.” She angles away from me as if she can deny my existence. It's quite comical and all Flora. She’s a shameless flirt and can be inappropriate if my memory serves me right from when she worked at the Jane Clinic.
“Thanks.” He winks, now moving his arm closer to his body. She takes the hint and lets her fingers drop to the counter. “I was hoping you could help us by answering a few questions about Elliot Foley.”
“Elliot? Is something wrong?” Worry skates across her blonde brow and it doesn’t seem fake.
“You worked at the Jane Walk-in Clinic at the same time he did, and you also oversaw the renovations to the supply room, correct?”
She nods, less flirty now, and folds her arms over her middle, clearly cautious of this line of questioning.
“Can you tell us what work was done to the room?”
“Caro knows.” She’s snide with my name. “It was a total overhaul. New cabinets, an island was installed, shelving and better lighting. Just look at the place. She can tell you.” She flashes me a look to match her ‘you’re an idiot’ tone.
“We can’t.” I hadn’t planned on saying anything given she was responding so well to Kit, but I can no longer resist. “The clinic burned to the ground.”
“What?” Wide-eyed, she tenses.
“Yes. There was an explosion.” I’m blunt and want answers.
“Was anyone hurt?” She jumps when a nurse steps in behind her, saying it’s time for her break. The nurse takes over and Flora stands back, now more anxious than ever to leave. “Okay, thanks. I have to go, sorry I couldn’t be more help.”
Undeterred, Kit walks through a door similar to the one at my clinic, and like that one, it leads to a hallway to the examination rooms and staff-only areas.
“You can’t come back here.” Flora steps into him, putting her palms out in a lame attempt to stop him.
“We just need a few minutes. Is there a break room where we could go to speak privately?”
“I don’t have much time for lunch. And you shouldn’t be—”
“You asked about the explosion at the clinic—no one was hurt.” Kit’s tone is low and tender and in turn, her shoulders relax.
“Thank goodness.” Relief blankets her features. Kit’s doing a great job at putting her at ease. I try to fade into the background and listen.
“Elliot trusted you, didn’t he?”
“Yes. A lot.” Like a flower blossoming under the sun’s rays, she inches toward him, the horrible news about the clinic no longer of significance. “I suppose we could chat in the back room. Follow me.”
“Thanks so much. Can you tell me more about what you did while the renovations were underway? Tell us what responsibilities Elliot trusted you with.” He’s laying it on thick, and she’s gobbling it up.
“Well, he asked a lot of me. Let’s see, where should I start?” She holds open the door to a small room with a kitchenette and a round table for five.
I keep my mouth shut even with questions tripping over themselves to get out of my mouth.
“Like what?” He leans against a wall while she grabs a container from the fridge.
“Well…I’d rather not say in front of Dr. Archer.” She casts her gaze on me, curling her lip.
Her dislike fo
r me never bothered me before and it doesn’t now. For some reason, other women intimidated or pissed her off.
“It’s okay, Flora. I know Elliot liked you a lot.” It’s a lie, but I draw on Willow’s comments from yesterday because I wasn’t observant enough to notice Elliot and Flora were close.
“He did.” Her attraction to Elliot is clear, and there’s a real possibility something happened between them. And no surprise to me, I feel nothing.
The more I think about it, I really didn’t pay much attention to Elliot, and now I wonder why I even dated him. Was I bored? Lonely? Punishing myself?
“Don’t worry about my feelings.” I try not to come off as uncaring or callous, more offering myself as a target for her bitterness.
It must do the trick because she gives me a smug smile, almost eager to unload in front of me. “My brothers own a renovation company, so you’ll have to ask them what exactly they did. My job was to make sure no one interrupted them. Elliot made that very clear.”
She moves the fork around the greens but she doesn’t eat. “I tried to tell him I could do more, but he said I was a strong leader and the staff liked me, so they’d listen to me. And they did.”
I hold back a scoff. The staff didn’t argue with her because she’s unstable and none of them wanted the hassle of her going off on them.
“Great. Do you know why he had the renovations done and why he didn’t tell Caro about it?” Kit’s now resting his hands against the back of a chair.
“It was some sort of gift for Dr. Archer. He wanted to surprise her. But that’s just what he said—I got the truth out of him.” She’s triumphant, glowering at me, and I hope my expression is neutral or even wounded if only to encourage her to talk.
“The truth? What does that mean?” Kit quirks a brow, sparing a glance my way.
She places the lid back onto the container, her food untouched. “He wanted the supply room to be better equipped and organized. I mean, the place was small and a mess. He did it for the good of the clinic.”
I don’t know about Kit, but I call bullshit. Something just changed, and she’s no longer maintaining eye contact. This could be about Elliot. Like Willow suspected, there was most probably more going on between those two.