Nobody's Angel (16 page)

Lucy shook her head. She had no words, only the need to press herself a half inch closer until her flesh touched his. Her breasts felt heavy and swollen. Her nipples rasped against the front of her shirt. She had underestimated the strength of this thing that hissed and snapped between them. Desire fisted in her belly and moved lower. There had always been only him for her, but she dared not say the words. They jammed up in her throat and so she shook her head again. Small skeins of her hair caught on the roughness of his chin. Every inch of her being sought the contact.

“I think.” He didn’t brush the tiny connection of her hair away. His voice was tumescent with what he didn’t say and she dared not. “I think it always comes down to you, Lucy. What is it about you that imprints every facet of my life?”

Harsh, hot breath fanned her cheek. “From the moment I saw you, you have cursed me.” Lucy wanted to howl her denial. “I can still remember it like it was this morning.” He breathed through his nose, inhaling the scent of her and Lucy’s head tilted to give him access. A silent offering that she didn’t want to control.

His head dipped in response until she felt the brush of his breath against the curve of her neck.

A small whimper escaped her at the graze of his mouth against her skin. It was barely a touch, but she felt it right through to her center. Her fingers dug into the countertop and she battled through the fog to hear what he was saying.

“You were standing next to Ashley, talking to her. She was supposed to be my girlfriend, but it was you I was watching. I stood there and stared. I must have stood like that for ten minutes. You didn’t know that, did you?”

Lucy shook her head again.

His beard rasped lightly against her cheek. “And then you turned to me and it was like being punched. I couldn’t breathe, Lucy. I swear to God, I stopped breathing. You were so unbelievably beautiful and I wanted you so much. I was rock hard, Lucy, and I was standing half a room away from you.” He pushed toward her and Lucy felt the jutting pressure of his erection.

She moaned softly as her body flooded with answering moisture.

His mouth was beside hers and Lucy’s entire being locked on the spot where they nearly connected. All she had to do was turn her head a quarter inch to the right and she could feel his mouth on hers. The need almost overwhelmed the fear, but the fear was greater. Terrified he would move away and even more terrified he wouldn’t. So she stayed, her body locked in a stasis of longing and desire. Trembling, out of control, and bereft of will and choices, paralyzed by her longing.

“Ashley says you have always been first, but she has no idea. Does she, Lucy?” Her name was breathed across her bottom lip. “She thinks she knows, but she has no idea how it was for us.” He released the counter suddenly to clasp her face between his palms and Lucy allowed him to pull her gaze from his mouth to his eyes.

It was all there, the impotent fury that he was helpless against her. It mirrored her desperation so fully. Lucy had no idea that she was crying until she felt his thumbs roughly push the moisture from her cheeks. He cradled her face between his hands, his fingers buried deep within her hair and pressing lightly against her scalp.

“Every flash of your eyes . . .” His voice dropped deeper and grew ragged with his breathing. “Every smile . . .” He touched the corner of her mouth and dragged his thumb across her bottom lip.

Lucy could taste the salty moisture of her tears.

“Every time you said my name or laughed. I watched you like I could never get enough of you. And I couldn’t. I could never have enough of you. Even when I was buried inside you, with these legs wrapped around me, as close to you as I could get, it still wasn’t enough. What is it about you, Lucy Flint?” He lowered his head toward her, but the battle still raged in his eyes. “And it was the same for you, Lucy. I can’t be wrong about that.”

It was a plea and she heard it. “You aren’t wrong.”

So soft she barely heard her own voice, but he heard it and he closed the breath of space between them and touched his mouth to hers, tentatively, at first, as if he was not sure this was really happening.

Need exploded in Lucy and she made a stifled, animal sound and pressed her mouth fully against his.

For a heartbeat, he didn’t move, but his entire body tensed like a coil. Then the grip on her scalp tightened and he tugged her closer to him, more fully into the kiss.

Their mouths opened to each other greedily, tongues, lips, and teeth, all tasting, inhaling, devouring the essence of each other with a hunger that raged through her. For Lucy it was like coming alive again.

His kiss bruised, but Lucy pressed even closer, moaning her need in low murmurs into his mouth. He drank her desire thirstily, taking her mouth and plundering. Trying to sate something stronger than either of them. Against her body, he was hard and unyielding and it thrilled her.

The taste of him was heady. It was familiar and not at all the same. She pushed deeper into the kiss, as if she could satisfy her need like this.

It wasn’t enough for either of them and she felt his hand, hard and demanding against her hips, pulling her against him, rubbing his rigid cock against the juncture of her thighs.

This was Richard, her body exalted and he was harder, stronger, and bigger than she remembered. But the smell of him was the same and the way they fit together, so incredibly, achingly familiar.

His hips moved against her, his erection full and swelling against her female flesh and Lucy responded. Moving against him as the thrust of his hips and tongue became more insistent.

He pressed into her, bending her over backward. He released her head only to lift her hips onto the counter behind her. Parting her thighs and pressing forward, dominating her with his body and his mouth until Lucy felt the hard press of unyielding wood beneath her back.

His body pressed down onto hers.

She gripped his back, holding him in place with her thighs around his hips and her arms around his neck. He was hard where she was wet and wanting. The rough texture of his big hands against the skin of her waist made Lucy cry out into his mouth.

“I need to touch you.” He pulled away enough to watch his hand disappear beneath the hem of her shirt, riding the gentle rise of her ribcage.

Lucy arched into his touch. It burned against her skin until his palm closed over her breast.

He captured her moan in his mouth. Taking possession of her mouth and the full, aching mound of her breast in one devastating movement.

There was no hesitation in his possession. No tentative exploration, but a certainty of his ability to drive them both mindless with pleasure; the awkward apology of a boy’s touch had been replaced by a sure, slow hand of a man.

The thought beamed through the haze of lust.

In that split second between one heartbeat and the next, Lucy saw herself, spread like a sacrificial offering across the countertop, her body straining against his, her heart and her soul on offer with it. And just like that, it wasn’t enough. The lust he offered was not enough. She reached desperately for that thought, beating back the need to ignore everything and submit.

She craved the closeness and the oblivion, but she wanted more.

It took him a moment to sense her withdrawal and then he raised his head. His eyes were feverish and his face flushed as he stared down at her. “Lucy?”

The question was there and with nearly every fiber of her being she wanted to answer yes, to give him permission to take her body.

“Not like this,” she whispered instead.

He frowned and recoiled away from her as if she’d slapped him. “Jesus, Lucy.” She winced as his voice shot across the kitchen. “Are you playing games with me?”

“No games.” She pulled her shirt down with shaking hands and tried to wriggle off the counter. It was undignified and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Her position a powerful reminder of what had nearly happened here. What she still wanted to happen. “I’m not playing games.”

He watched her with hot, angry eyes.

Lucy could see the rigid grip he exerted on his control.

“I was right there with you. And I want this,” she said, gesturing toward the two of them. “But not like this. Not in anger.” She took a shallow, shaky breath. “Don’t make love to me in anger.”

He stayed where he was, frozen to the spot as the desire receded and reality tiptoed unwelcome fingers through his brain.

Lucy watched it all happen, the disbelief, then the shock, and, finally, the regret. And inside, she died a little bit right there. He would have had sex with her and he would have regretted it. Her tattered dignity was not quite enough of a consolation, but it was all she had.

“Come to me because you want me, Richard.” She drew even with him as she made for the front door. “Don’t use the attraction between us to ease your anger and your hurt.”

Still he didn’t move and Lucy let herself out of the house.

Richard was grumpy, but he didn’t give a shit as he slammed his car door and stalked toward his office. The heat hit him like a wave as he opened the door. A Chinook packed full of the assembled smells and sounds of the gathered humanity.

As one they looked up when he walked in, their faces reflecting largely divergent levels of patience. Most looked like they were bending the needle toward
Where the hell have you been? I have a life, which does not include sitting here getting old in your waiting room.
He couldn’t blame them.

He was late. Horribly and irrevocably late and he would have the unmitigated delight of taking it on the chin for the rest of the day.

Lucy was back in town and his life was, once again, sliding to hell in a handbasket. She had that effect on things. Lucy arrived with her pet avatars of chaos and disruption and the three of them played knick-knack paddywhack all over his head.

Actually, it wasn’t entirely her fault this time. True, trying to get to sleep with a raging hard-on had not helped. He’d overslept and then spent a frustrating two hours trying to get Lynne to make a decision. His entire time in Lynne’s kitchen his one eye had kept creeping toward the stair to see if Lucy would join them. She hadn’t and it was ridiculous how much that pissed him off.

Ah, shit. Richard caught sight of his first patient.

Brad-Leigh blinked back at him, two slimy trails of snot glued to the four-year-old’s top lip. He hoped his nurse, Carmen, had remembered to restock the examination rooms with Kleenex.

“There you are.” Carmen rolled her eyes at him. “You decided to take the day off, or what?” Richard threw her the look.

“Brooke,” he said, nodding a greeting to the boy’s mother and passing her a Kleenex. He suppressed the desire to shudder. He was a doctor, for the love of God. Blood, gore, throw-up and, yes, even Brad-Leigh’s snot was all in a day’s work. “Sorry I’m late. I will just be a minute.”

Brooke twittered something, but Richard didn’t hear her. He was already on the move toward his office.

Carmen glared at him from over the top of her reading glasses as he sidled past her desk. Richard was sure the woman wouldn’t be in such a perpetually pissy mood if she conceded defeat and went two doors down to the opticians and got a decent prescription.

“Perhaps there is a reason you are late, hmm?” Carmen’s sneer had all heads snapping in his direction.

“Give me a couple of minutes and then send in Brooke and Brad-Leigh.” He kept up his professional face.

“You’re very behind,” she called after him, unnecessarily. “It is going to be a very long day.” Again, with the unsolicited and obvious, Richard didn’t deign to reply, but threw Carmen another look of complete, icy disdain. As per usual, she was unimpressed and merely glared right back.

“You have snow on your pants,” deadpanned his middle-aged nemesis.

Richard made it into his office, barely taking the time to put on his lab coat, before he heard Brad-Leigh and his snot trundling down the corridor toward one of the three patient rooms. He winced at the unmistakable clatter of Brad-Leigh discovering the tray of instruments. Brooke’s voice rose in the usual token, and unconvincing, reprimand.

Richard took a deep breath. It was in everybody’s best interest to get Brad-Leigh and his mother out of the office.

“Good morning.” He smiled at Brooke and turned his attention to Brad-Leigh. Brad-Leigh didn’t move. He looked at Richard. “What seems to be the problem?”

Richard barely listened as Brooke went through a long list of complaints on Brad-Leigh’s part. He quietly got on with his examination. Given free rein, Brooke would have her oldest child stricken with the bubonic plague and allergic to everything from mites to the greater Chicago area.

Brad-Leigh kept his pale eyes fixed on Richard’s face. Another trail of snot hovered menacingly around Brad-Leigh’s nostrils and Richard hastily grabbed another Kleenex. Brad-Leigh obediently blew his nose.

Richard finished his examination. Brad-Leigh had a cold. The same cold he’d had two days ago when Brooke had brought him in and the same cold he would have two days from now until the virus ran its course.

“Well, Brooke, he doesn’t have a temperature and his lungs sound good. Just keep him quiet. You can use some Tempra or something like that if you think he’s uncomfortable. Make sure he gets lots of rest and fluids.”

“Shouldn’t he have an antibiotic?” Brooke’s face screwed up intently as she looked over his shoulder at her son.

“It’s probably for the best to hold off on those for the moment.” Richard snapped off his latex gloves and reached for his candy jar.

Brad-Leigh’s expression grew animated for the first time since he’d arrived.

“I suppose you’ve seen her?” Here it came. Richard felt that unmistakable slide of his day from bad to hideous. Brooke watched him with the same intensity as she would a car wreck.

“Hmm?” He feigned disinterest as he made some notes on Brad-Leigh’s already bulging chart.

“I can’t believe she had the cheek to come back here.” Brooke leaned toward him, inviting him into her bitterness.

“Who?” He peered over the edge of the file at her with his practiced, vague expression. The
you put what, where?
expression every family practitioner needs. It worked for exes back in town, too.

“Lucy Flint.” Brooke straightened up, her eyebrows all but disappearing into her fiery hairline. “I ran into her the other day at the store.”

“Oh.” Richard closed Brad-Leigh’s chart. Brooke looked at him expectantly, thick as a tick with the drama. He really, really hated this shit. “Yes, I’ve seen her.”
And touched her and kissed her and put my hands on her. And I want to do it again.
“She’s staying at her parents’ house, which, as you know, is right next door.”

Brooke visibly deflated and he got a certain childish satisfaction.

Brad-Leigh came to the rescue. Tired of waiting around as adults discussed a subject that wasn’t him, he headed for a tray of gleaming, sharp surgical instruments. It got Brooke’s immediate attention.

Richard moved behind his desk, confident nobody could or would see that beneath his neutral expression his heart thundered. If he had his way, it was going nowhere near his sleeve. He only needed to learn that lesson once and that had happened when Lucy Flint had blown out of town . . . with Brooke’s boyfriend. Richard felt a brief moment of camaraderie with the other woman. He could still hear the murmurs of pity following him around the neighborhood. It must have been the same for Brooke.

“Keep Brad-Leigh quiet and if he’s not better in a week, bring him back to see me.” He smiled at her kindly. He stopped short of patting Brad-Leigh on the head and palmed another Kleenex instead.

“How did you think she looked?” Brooke’s eyes narrowed in the corners and one started a slight tic. “I thought she looked older. I remember her as being better looking, don’t you?”
Nope.
He tried his best not to think about how breathtakingly, mind-numbingly gorgeous Lucy still was. Richard kept his eyes on Brooke’s.

The woman’s face was alight with malice and his brief flash of goodwill disappeared. Perhaps Jason hadn’t taken much convincing to disappear with Lucy.

Richard sighed. It was beneath him to have such a thought. It was probably another by-product of his shitty morning.

“Oh, she’s grown her hair, hasn’t she?” Like he hadn’t noticed? He could still feel the silk of her mane between his fingers. “It looks good.”

“Maaaa.” Brad-Leigh strained to reach a set of clamps.

Brooke produced a candy bar from her purse and looked at Richard sharply, as if sensing all was not as it appeared.

Richard looked back at her.

Brad-Leigh went for the candy.

“Ashley knows she is here,” Brooke stated smugly.

“I wonder who told her that?” he murmured and raised a brow at Brooke.

“I did.” She puffed up with self-importance. Subtlety was lost on Brooke. “I told her straightaway. It was my duty as a friend.”

Richard barely stopped himself from snorting. Ashley couldn’t stand the other woman. He’d heard more than one scathing diatribe on Brooke.

“Was there anything else?” he asked.

“Are you all right?” Brooke cooed. She wouldn’t be Brooke if she left the boil unlanced.

“I am fine, Brooke,” he assured her with convincing calm. “Lucy is back in town, I am fine. Are we done here?” He indicated the waiting room outside. “Because, as you are aware, I was late and I have other patients waiting.”

“Oh.” Brooke visibly shrank before him. “Well, that’s good then.” She gathered up her son. “I still think she is looking her age. It must be all the wild living.”

Brooke paused expectantly in the doorway, waiting for him to take up the conversational gambit.

“Take care.” Richard left the room and was well on his way toward the second treatment room before he let out his breath. He hadn’t even realized he was holding it.

“Good morning, Mr. Crawley,” he greeted his elderly patient. “I am sorry you have had to wait so long. How’s the back?”

“So, Doctor, two women, huh?” The old man’s eyebrows shot up expectantly. “Lucky young dog. Which one are you going to take? Normally I wouldn’t ask, but the wife and I have a little side bet going.”

 

 

 

 

Christ.
Richard stared at the chart in front of him, willing the squiggles to make sense. He had to find a way to get past this.