Partners by Contract (15 page)

She felt alert now, not drowsy, as his finger touched the thin silvery scar line just below her left nipple. Phoebe, who had no hang-ups about the scar, but quite a few about being intimately caressed by someone she’d trained herself to think of as off limits, tried to relax. Perversely her efforts had the opposite effect and her body began to ache with tension.

‘I remember how scared you were, going in for that biopsy.’

Not as scared as she was now.

‘I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t made me.’ She had known that Penny would have flown back from her assignment in Australia if she’d told her, which was why Phoebe hadn’t confided in her twin.

Connor, always observant, hadn’t let up until his miserable flatmate had confessed why she wasn’t eating or sleeping. She’d talked and cried and he’d listened and discovered why she’d been walking around like a hollow-eyed little ghost for a fortnight. Just telling someone had made her feel a million times better. Phoebe suspected he made his patients feel better the same way now.

‘Ignoring it isn’t going to make it go away, Phoebe,’ he’d remonstrated gently before he’d competently set in motion the sequence of events that had proved, much to her intense relief, that the breast lump she’d discovered in the bath had been benign and harmless.

At this moment, when she was about to embrace hedonism big time, it seemed kind of appropriate to recall the euphoric vow she’d made on that day.

She’d emerged sleepily from the anaesthetic to discover Connor at her bedside.

‘They took a frozen section, as they thought it was benign, Phoebe.’ He’d had tissues on hand to mop up the tears of relief.

‘I’ll never take anything for granted again—not even you! I’m going to live every second of every day like it’s my last one and to hell with the consequences!’ she’d declared, tears running down her face.

Connor had laughed sceptically. ‘You say that now...’

‘I mean it,’ she’d declared indignantly.

‘We’ll see.’

Connor, of course, had been correct. It was pretty hard to embrace life joyously when you were trying to memorise the blood supply to the medulla oblongata.
Exams
—the bane of her life for five long years!

‘This isn’t going to work, Con!’ she cried, suddenly grabbing the hand that caressed in her own two hands. She drew it onto her chest, her nails digging into his wrist.

‘It’s going to work beautifully.’ It had to!

A rebellious part of Phoebe would have liked to have told him that his confidence was premature, only the rest of her hoped like hell it wasn’t!

‘I can’t forget who you are.’ There’s this voice in my head that won’t shut up. She clutched his hands more tightly. It was hard to explain, but Connor was linked inextricably in her mind with Penny and forbidden pleasures.

‘I’d be kind of upset if you did.’ His lips moved as if to form a smile, but didn’t quite make it. The bones in his face jutted sharp and prominent beneath his tightly stretched olive skin which glistened with a fine layer of sweat.

‘We’re not hurting anyone, Phoebe.’ Actually, he didn’t know when he’d last hurt this much—never, he suspected. He shifted slightly to ease the pressure in his groin.

The conflict in her eyes as they clung to his face was obvious. ‘Penny...’

It was hard to think at all, let alone coherently, through the sensual fog that filled her brain, but it all came back to Penny.

Connor’s jaw tightened. ‘There’s only room for two people in this bed.’

‘This isn’t a bed.’ What a time for semantics, Phoebe!

‘I’d rectify that, but how about the sofa as second best?’ He nodded towards the sumptuously upholstered piece of furniture. He gently tipped her onto the floor. Phoebe
landed on her feet, but didn’t relinquish her two-handed iron grip on his wrist, not even as he limped the few feet over to the sofa. ‘The stairs would take some time with this.’ He tapped his leg with irritation as he joined her. ‘I haven’t got that much time, Phoebe.’

The implication of this forceful admission sent a stab of sharp sexual longing coursing through her body like a flash flood.

The hungry eyes that ravaged her face reinforced the general theme of extreme urgency. ‘You ran off to darkest Africa when I kissed you. I’m kind of nervous about what you’ll do after this.’ With his hand against her breastbone, a gentle push sent her sprawling backwards.

Run? She doubted whether she could stand, the insistent ache between her legs an actual physical pain now. ‘This isn’t a joke,’ she quavered.

‘Do you see me smiling?’ he asked her grimly. ‘But rest assured,’ he added, ‘I’m not about to let you slip away again.’

The troubling tingle under Phoebe’s skin became a burning blaze to match the fire in Connor’s spectacular eyes.

The ashes falling from a partially consumed log in the fireplace was the only sound other than their mingled breathing in the big room. The throbbing sexual tension that wrapped itself tightly around them had an almost tactile quality.

‘How are you going to stop me?’ she asked, unable to keep her voice steady.

‘I’ll think of something,’ he responded throatily.

Phoebe couldn’t decide if this was a promise or a threat—by this point she didn’t actually care. All she wanted was Con—his touch, his taste, his possession.

Connor slid down onto his back, drawing her on top of him. Phoebe’s knees tucked in on either side of his body
in the limited space. In this position it was pretty impossible not to be aware of the hardness of his arousal digging into the softness of her lower belly.

‘Oh, heavens!’ The hot clutching sensation she was already aware of deep inside intensified dramatically.

She wasn’t even aware that her whitened fingers were still clutching his wrist until he began to peel them away one by one.

‘I need both my hands.’ He casually drew one freed fingertip into his mouth and suckled softly.

Phoebe reared up, her violent gasp sucking in the gentle feminine roundness of her belly and pushing up her unconfined breasts—much to Connor’s unconcealed delight. He watched their quivering contortions with hot eyes before placing his hands under her bottom and sliding her up his body until all he had to do was draw her closer and...

An inarticulate guttural sound of pleasure emerged from her raw throat as his mouth closed over one rosily engorged peak. Her braced arms stopped her falling on top of him. Her head fell forward and her hair, swinging like a dark bell around her face, brushed against the leather upholstery. The one per cent of her brain not involved in the wetness of his tongue and the moist bites, which varied in intensity from soft to sharp, was aware of him sliding her shirt off her back.

The air felt cool on her hot skin as his fingertips brushed against her collar-bone, travelled feather-light over the naked smooth curve of her narrow back and came to rest possessively on the curve of her hips. His fingers slid delicately under the waistband of her jeans. For several seconds he let his hot gaze move over her naked torso before pulling her head down to him with a hoarse cry.

There was an element of desperation in the kisses he rained on every inch of her face.

Phoebe gave a exultant laugh as he finally reached her mouth and her lips parted eagerly beneath his. Her hand meanwhile started the important task of removing his clothes. It had felt good and unexpectedly erotic to feel the roughness of the fabric against her bare skin but she was pretty sure his flesh would feel even better.

He rolled obligingly to one side to facilitate her efforts, lifting an arm as and when it was required.

‘Flesh to flesh,’ he murmured throatily. His long lashes were fanned out against his cheek so all she could see was the glitter.

‘Spooky,’ she said, sitting astride him to feast her eyes. He was long, lean, muscular but supple—he was beautiful. ‘That’s just what I was thinking. If you want my opinion,’ she continued throatily, ‘you’re hyperventilating.’ She continued to touch and stroke him as she spoke.

Connor’s head had fallen laxly to one side. She could see the pulse in his neck visibly throbbing and the hair that clung to his forehead was damp and darkened with sweat. He was quivering all over like a highly strung racehorse.

‘Is that your professional opinion, Doctor?’ He turned his head.

The staring match lasted until he couldn’t keep his hands off her for another second. He tore frantically at her clothes. His hands were everywhere, and she opened herself willingly, eagerly to his touch.

She wasn’t happy when he left her alone for a moment to remove his remaining clothes, hers having already been hastily flung to all four corners of the room. Her sulky complaints died away as she watched his back. The smooth skin gleamed as it flowed over the taut ripple and contraction
of the web of muscles that lay beneath and she gave a greedy little grunt as she watched the interplay.

‘Damned, blasted thing!’ he cried, easing his trousers down over his leg.

Phoebe pulled herself up onto her knees and placed her hand flat against his back. Her breasts followed, crushing up tight against him. ‘Can I help?’ she whispered huskily in his ear. Without waiting for his reply, she climbed past him off the sofa, her long legs brushing against his shoulder.

He watched the sensual sway of her hips before she turned, then with eyes lowered she shook back her raven hair. Demurely lowering her eyes, she carefully positioned herself at his feet.

Connor held his breath, transfixed, as the kneeling figure then slowly raised her eyes.

‘Dear God!’ he murmured hoarsely, unable to wrench his eyes from the slim figure at his feet. She looked half sultry temptress, half innocent shocked by her own daring. Enough to tempt a saint, he reflected, awestruck by the unspeakably erotic image she presented—and Connor was no saint!

Phoebe was awash in adrenaline-fuelled lust and longing. It pumped and surged wildly through her veins. Somewhere in the dim, dusty recesses of her consciousness she was surprised that the submission she offered wasn’t fake, it was total and unqualified. It couldn’t be like this unless you totally trusted your lover, she realised. Perhaps something of that trust showed in her eyes because his own darkened.

Amazingly her hands were steady as she unlaced his boots and removed them, then tucked the corresponding socks in their appropriate places. Connor sat passive and
silent while she did so, though she could feel his eyes burning into her.

Finished with the preliminaries, she planted her hands firmly on his thighs.

‘What next?’

This provocation proved too much for Connor’s control.

‘This!’ he growled, launching into a controlled lunge straight at her.

The weight of his big body sent Phoebe backwards until she lay sprawled beneath him on the Kelim rug. A couple of tugs and kicks and the rest of his clothing had gone.

‘Now, where was I?’ he mused, prising his mouth briefly from hers. A slow wicked smile spread over his face, sexual challenge glittering dangerously in his eyes.

She immediately knew that Connor knew exactly what he was doing to her and he was enjoying it, which was only fair because so was she.

‘I remember... This,’ he breathed raggedly.

His hands began to move over her, moulding the body beneath him. Phoebe, on fire, squirmed frantically. ‘And this.’ He laughed against her mouth. It was an earthy, incredibly erotic sound and listening to it sent wave upon wave of sharp sexual longing flooding through her body.

Connor’s mouth lifted a little and she wanted to tell him she wanted to touch him, she needed to touch him, but he wasn’t there to tell. His tongue was making damp, darting forays across her warm stomach, leaving tingling trails. He continued his tantalising journey until she was sobbing his name—she was sobbing a lot of things, mostly concerning his general perfection.

Phoebe wasn’t concerned by her forthright verbal declarations. She had other, more urgent conflicts—like the strong possibility that she might die if this delicious torture
didn’t stop. It seemed equally probable that she’d expire if it did stop!

Was this what they called a no-win situation? A low wanton chuckle escaped her lips as she felt his masterful touch part her thighs, and her body arched before relaxing and accepting the intimate touch of his mouth and hands. More like a no-lose situation, she decided, rubbing a toe over his tight behind.

Connor’s head came up.

Phoebe shivered, her eyes glowing and golden fastened on his face. The raw expression stamped on his strained features was almost pagan. It was a look that could have melted stone, and Phoebe wasn’t stone—she was warm, quivering, responsive flesh.

She heard a familiar voice in her head. ‘Flesh to flesh,’ he’d said. Heavens but she hoped so!

‘Care to share the joke?’ As he spoke his hand moved confidently between her parted thighs.

She gasped and her head went back with an audible thump onto the floor. His blue eyes blazed with an incandescence as he gloatingly watched her feverishly hot face. The fierce satisfaction on his features became savage and her head thrashed intermittently from side to side as a series of hoarse gasps continued to emerge from her parted lips.

Phoebe wasn’t conscious of anything else but his fingers stroking her, parting her and sliding deeply inside her into the slick heat. She moved against his hand, moaning.

Through her delirium a dark voice whispered softly in her ear. ‘Do you like this...? Is this the way...? Am I doing this right...? Open your eyes, Phoebe!’ The last was far more authoritative.

It wasn’t easy but she obeyed the compelling order. Connor was kneeling between her legs.

‘I want to see your eyes...see how you feel,’ he explained, slurring the words thickly.

Though not at his most articulate, Phoebe understood his disjointed explanation. She had her own request to make.

‘I want to hold you when we make love.’ She held out her arms, beckoning him closer.

Connor responded immediately and dropped down over her, his arms braced on either side of her shoulders. She could feel the hot hardness of him as his erection brushed incredibly hard and thick against her inner thigh. Anticipation made her moan weakly.