Читать книгу One Night That Changed Everything - Tina Beckett, Tina Beckett - Страница 9

GREG wasn’t sure who kissed whom first, but he knew with certainty there was nowhere he’d rather be right now. First she’d coaxed him to eat. Then to sleep. When he’d awoken, he’d found her right there beside him—even if she had been folded into something reminiscent of a cube. Her mouth had been slightly open, one hand curled softly against her chest. Her breasts had slowly risen and fallen as she’d breathed. The sight had sent his endocrine system on a rampage, pumping chemicals through his body. Then she’d looked up with those big green eyes, and he’d been lost. He’d stayed where he was, when he should have run.

No, that wasn’t completely true. He’d been pretty sure he could walk away without a problem, until that singular moment when her hips had seemed to zero in on a certain part of his anatomy. The part that was now issuing all sorts of commands he wasn’t sure he could resist.

He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, ready to pull back at the first sign of hesitation on her part.

Damn it, what was he thinking? Her back had just gone through hell and back, and here he was, mauling her to within an inch of her life.

But wasn’t she mauling him right back, her fists buried in his starched shirt and hanging on for dear life?

Still, he had to be sure.

“Your back,” he whispered against her lips.

“Forgotten.”

“But—”

She pulled him close and cut off his words with another lingering kiss.

Okay, if that’s the way she wanted to play this, who was he to complain? Besides, he was tired of warring against his emotions, trying to keep them in check so as not to alarm his patients, or hand out undue hope, if things took a turn for the worse.

Like with Martha Brookstone?

No, don’t think of that right now.

He was with someone who’d fought the disease. Who’d won. He gloried in that. Celebrated Hannah’s life. Her health. It was why he’d surrounded himself with people just like her, to remind himself that cancer could be beaten. Not all of the time. His own sister had …

His fingers tightened in Hannah’s hair, desperate to feel the life force coursing through her body, her heart pumping strongly against his own.

Life! This was what it was about. The need for closeness, to reaffirm your own existence.

Surely just this once he could block out the real world.

The blinds were closed. Door locked. Alarm set.

And, most of all, there was a beautiful, willing woman in his arms.

Her low sigh melted his resistance even further, and Greg gentled his kiss, taking the time to taste her, to measure the softness of her lips against his. His tongue slid in a slow arc across the surface of her teeth, then back again, his senses roaring to life when she opened her mouth in invitation. Stunned by the force of his reaction, he hung around outside for a second or two, until her tongue touched the underside of his, leading him inside. Coaxing him, just like she’d done with his meal. Before he knew it, he was right there, the interplay of textures and heat making it impossible for him to retreat again.

His hand left her hair, sliding down her back until it lay just above the curve of her buttocks. A very dangerous place to be. Once he took that leap there’d be no going back.

On that note, he lingered in her mouth, needing to show her exactly what she was doing to him, and that if she intended to call a halt to things, it needed to be soon.

She didn’t. She met each stroke by moving closer, protested each withdrawal with a soft bite to his lower lip. His hands slid down and over in unison, his fingers curving on the rounded flesh he found there. It filled his palms, set his whole body on fire.

He pulled her up and against him, hoping to relieve a little of the ache that was growing steadily worse. And hoping the shock would knock them both back into the realm of reality. Except Greg didn’t want reality. He wanted the fantasy … to keep her here. With him. Wanted to wish their clothing gone and to drive every last inch of himself into her—to fill her to capacity and beyond.

Hannah released her hold on his shirt, and at first he thought she meant to pull away. Instead, the top button of his shirt popped free, as if …

His lips left hers in question, and he caught her smile. Then another button was plucked loose.

She was undoing his shirt. There went the third button. It was either allow her to keep going or let go of her and stop her.

Her hands settled on his bare chest, upping the ante. Especially when they wandered down, purposely sliding over his nipples in the process. His eyes squeezed shut as he tried to hold on to some small portion of his sanity.

When her fingers seemed to want to stay and visit for a while, teasing and testing, he had no choice. He let go of her, reaching up to capture her wrists and carry them behind her back.

“You’re treading on dangerous ground.”

Her brows went up. “I hadn’t even gotten to the dangerous part yet.”

Greg couldn’t stop a quick laugh of surprise. This was a side of Hannah he hadn’t known existed. But he liked it.

He took her mouth again. Harder this time. His free hand slid beneath her blouse and claimed the very thing he’d just denied her, the lacy bra providing almost no barrier. And he reveled in it—in the tightly drawn nipple that pressed against the fabric and scraped lusciously against his palm. When he rolled the bud between his thumb and forefinger, she moaned into his mouth.

Yes.

God, he wanted her. Now.

He let go of her and grasped the bottom of her blouse, holding her gaze as she slowly raised her arms above her head so he could take it off. Her shirt was as far as he got, though, because she reached back and unhooked the black bra herself, letting it fall from her body. Still no sign that her back was bothering her. But, hell, if the sight of her naked breasts didn’t hurt him in a very different kind of way.

When he started to move forward again, she backed up a step and reached for the button of her slacks. “Here’s where it starts getting dangerous.”

Holy hell. Surely she didn’t mean to …

In an instant she’d unzipped them and pushed them down her hips, kicking them away from her. Her black panties were barely there, just a scrap of lace with a crisscrossing of strings on the sides. He had no idea where they led or what the back looked like, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“Hannah,” he warned, when her fingertips slipped beneath the ties.

She gave a soft laugh. “Your turn, then.”

His turn to what? Take off his clothes? Remove her last article of clothing himself?

He assumed she meant for him to start shucking his own clothes, so he finished unbuttoning his shirt and slung the garment to the side. His fingers weren’t quite as steady as hers, but it had been a long time since he’d been with anyone. A very long time. His hours were too crazy, and he was too exhausted by the time he got home.

And yet right now he seemed to have the energy of an eighteen-year-old boy.

Hannah moved back in before he could go any further and slid her palms up his chest, and rested them on his shoulders, leaning in to kiss the base of his throat.

That wasn’t where he wanted her. “Hey.”

When she looked up, he took her mouth, wrapping his arms around the bare skin of her back, trying to absorb everything at once. The heat of her skin against his, the softness of her breasts.

Breasts he wanted to devour.

He gripped her hips, intending to ease her back so he could cup them, but the strings on her panties sidetracked him. He followed them around. The back had a satiny feel as opposed to the lace in front. Part of him was relieved, part of him disappointed. He’d half hoped to find nothing there.

But it didn’t matter, because he could just do this …

He slid his fingers between the elastic band and her skin and repeated on her bare bottom what he’d done earlier when she’d still been wearing pants. He squeezed, trying to get his fill, then pulled back enough to push her underwear halfway down her legs, his mouth having to leave hers to do so. This time when his hands returned to their perch, he pulled her tight against him, her bare flesh pressing directly on the hard bulge at the front of his slacks. He ground against her, once … twice, swallowing hard when she gave a tiny whimper, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

Enough!

He scooped her up in his arms in a quick movement and carried her past the still-propped-open doorway in back. His office had a couch.

And a desk.

Yes.

That’s where he wanted her. On his desk, legs splayed open, with him between them. His flesh tightened beyond belief.

That decadent image would carry him through many a lonely night.

And there’d be no danger of hurting her back.

He gave a rough laugh.

Sure. That was the reason.

He pushed on the handle, but it didn’t budge. Damn. Locked.

“Where’s the key?” she whispered.

“Left front pocket.” Thank heavens he’d kept his trousers on.

“I think I can get it.” Hannah scooched her arm between their bodies, her breasts jiggling in a way that made his mouth water. She found his pocket, dipped in and instead of finding his keys and retreating, her hand drifted to the right and curved over the tight ridge of flesh. The fingers massaged and squeezed and drove the breath from his lungs.

“Those aren’t my keys, woman.”

She gave a soft laugh. “I know.” Her nails scraped down his length, the fabric keeping it from hurting while also making it the most erotic sensation he’d ever felt. He almost did the unthinkable standing right there in front of his door.

“Hannah … please.”

She kissed the side of his neck and retrieved his keys. “I like it when you say please.”

That “please” now encompassed asking God to help him make it inside his office.

“Unlock the door.”

He turned his body sideways to allow her to reach the lock, which she undid in record time. Pushing his way past the door, he carried her over to his desk. He surveyed it, trying to figure out where to put her. “Push the pencil cup onto the floor.”

Her brows went up, but she did as he asked, the offending object flying off the side of the desk, shedding pens and pencils as it went. He then set her on the edge and stepped back to watch her as he undid his own pants.

He was afraid she’d get up, but she didn’t. She sat there, panties still halfway down her legs, her arms going back to prop herself on the wide wooden surface. The act pushed her breasts up and out, while pushing his self-control to the breaking point.

Making short work of the rest of his clothes, he moved over to her and rested his arms on either side of her hips. He gave her a long, slow smile. “My turn to get a little dangerous.”

“Believe me, you already are.”

Her tongue came out to moisten her lips. He leaned in and did the same, drawing his tongue slowly across her already wet mouth. He then kissed her chin, before nudging her head back so he had access to the underside of her throat. Working his way down to her shoulder, he dipped further until he reached her right breast.

The second his lips closed over her nipple, he knew it had been worth the wait. Her reaction was immediate. She arched toward him with a moan. But when she went to lift her arms, he put his hands over hers, trapping them on the desk.

She thought she could drive him crazy with no recourse? Well, he was about to get a little of his own back. He suckled and nibbled, holding her in place with his teeth while his tongue lapped over her. When he finally released her, the nipple was slick and tight.

Just like she would be when he finally entered her. And it had to be soon.

He finally stood upright. Hannah’s teeth were digging into her lower lip, eyes sealed shut. Her hips made tiny movements on the surface of his desk.

He wanted to be right in the middle of that.

He slid her panties the rest of the way down her legs, and as soon as they were gone, her thighs spread apart. He swallowed as he moved between them, trying to think about anything other than what was about to happen, and failing miserably. Instead, he gave her a deep open-mouthed kiss, settling against her and finding her just as slick and ready as he’d hoped.

To be sure, he slid his hand between them, thumb seeking the right spot and then stroking gently. She pressed closer, moaning against his mouth. Her flesh enveloped his tip, the heat and tightness driving him to the very edge of insanity. It was all he could do not to thrust into her and lose himself in a fiery rush. As if reading his thoughts, she reached around to grab his butt, pulling him even deeper.

She was so wet, so hot. Her hips were still making those tiny thrusting motions against his arousal … against his thumb. Growing stronger. Quicker.

He sped up the motion of his thumb, knowing that the second she went over the edge, he was going with her. And he’d be able to push deeper. Harder.

No! Wait. Condom!

He started to withdraw, only to have her hands pull at him desperately, her calves wrapping around him, hips sliding forward until she had him fully within her. She lay back on the desk, her eyes pleading with him.

“Greg, now. Please.”

The sight of her lying naked on top of his desk drove every rational thought he’d had a few seconds ago from his mind. Grasping her hips, he pushed into her, reveling in the tight heat that gripped him to perfection. She put her heels on the edge of the desk and rose to meet him stroke for stroke, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead as he fought for control.

Control he couldn’t seem to find.

No need because Hannah was at the end of hers as well, pushing herself onto him, her hips now leaving the desk every time he drove into her. Within a few seconds she arched up and gasped, her body tightening around him in a series of explosive waves. He gave up and held on for dear life, hands braced on the desk as he thrust into her again and again, her name falling from his lips as he found his own release deep inside her.

He went down onto his elbows as the world slowed, as time began to trickle back to normal. Hannah’s breath floated past his cheek, her sweet, womanly scent washing over him as he struggled to piece together what had just happened.

No need to ask. He already knew.

Hannah had happened. And he realized he’d been trying to avoid this moment for months. Definitely since that fateful hug. Maybe even the entire time he’d known her.

And as reality crystallized, hardening into a rock that blocked his throat—filled his chest—another realization swept over him. This one much more deadly.

His wallet contained an object around which his thoughts and regrets now circled like vultures.

A single, unopened condom.