The Place I Belong (16 page)

He strode over to her unmade bed, lowering her onto the rumpled sheets and following her down. She splayed her hands on his chest as she looked up into the face of a man she barely knew. It was a beautiful face, the velvet brown eyes incandescent with desire, the angle of jaw and cheekbone strong and sharp, the curve of lips sensual but completely male. She wanted to graze her fingertips over the dark stubble in the cleft of his chin and smooth away the lines drawn around his mouth.

None of that seduced her, though. It was his need that swamped her good sense. Just as she wondered if she should reconsider, he shifted position so his thigh drove between hers, making contact with the sensitized spot between her legs. Arousal sent her arching upward in mind-blurring response.

“Yes,” he said, wrapping his hands around her hips and tilting them so he could press his thigh against her again.

She nearly came from just the friction.

Releasing her hips, he snagged the hem of her tee shirt with his thumbs and pulled upward. She wondered what bra she’d thrown on in her haste to get dressed. Her concern evaporated as he hauled her shirt up over her breasts and his gaze sharpened to a fascinated hunger.

“So perfect,” he murmured before he slid his hands under her back and unhooked the bra, yanking it and her shirt up over her head and flinging the tangle of fabrics away. He cupped her breasts in his hands and bent his head to take one of her nipples in his mouth. Lightning arced directly down to the already blazing heat between her legs.

“Adam!” She ground against his thigh.

He lifted his head and wrenched the zipper of her jeans open, shifting to pull both the denim and her cotton panties down to her knees before he slipped one hand between her thighs. They both moaned at the same time as he slid one finger inside her and then withdrew it.

“Yes,” he breathed, levering himself up from the bed to slip her jeans off before he unfastened the sleek, silver buckle of his belt and tugged down his own zipper. She gave an inward sigh of relief when he reached around to his back pocket and produced a foil envelope. Her attraction to him had been so swift and unlikely, she’d been caught unprepared.

He had the condom rolled onto his erection and was kneeling on the bed again before she could decide where she should be. He came down over her, using his knees to wedge hers apart. The craving inside her intensified with the sense of being opened to him. Then he buried himself inside her in one swift, sure movement, and she nearly cried out at the delicious fullness.

He withdrew and drove into her again, his eyes closed, his neck muscles taut as he braced his forearms on either side of her. She felt the fine fabric of his trousers brushing against the inside of her thighs, piling sensation on sensation.

He levered himself higher so he could thrust faster and harder, the angle making his shirt rub back and forth over the tips of her nipples. The friction sent sparks of heat streaking down into the tension coiling tighter and tighter in her belly.

She grabbed his shoulders and met his next thrust with a roll of her hips, the collision setting off her release in a blast of searing pleasure. She dug her fingers into his muscles and bowed up from the bed as he rode her orgasm into his own, throwing his head back and shouting her name while he pumped inside her.

He stayed poised over her as they drifted down from their explosive joining, dropping his forehead onto her bare shoulder so the ends of his hair tickled her cheek. His weight still held her thighs open, adding a lingering eroticism to the last ripples of her climax. His breathing quieted and he slid out of her, pushing himself up and off the bed in slow, deliberate movements.

Noticing he was still almost fully clothed, she rolled to her side and wrapped a corner of the sheet around her torso as he disposed of the condom.

He came back to the bed and sat down beside her, smoothing a hand along the covered curve of her hip. “I preferred you without this,” he said, tugging lightly at the sheet.

She grabbed the fabric as it started to slip. “Seems to me the clothing quotient is a little one-sided.” She swept her gaze over his intact ensemble, a tiny shiver running through her at how dark he looked against the pastel sheets and quilt.

He slid his hand up to her shoulder so she could feel the texture of his palm against her bare skin. His thumb traced back and forth along her collarbone, sending shimmers of heat waltzing over her body. “I’d like to stay,” he said.

He was giving her the choice of whether to take this further. She looked up into his face, which was half-shadowed, half-illuminated by the bedside lamp. The tension was gone from his jaw and the desperation in his eyes had been replaced by a slow-burning intensity. “If you take your clothes off, I’ll consider it.”

“Fair enough,” he said, an undertone of amusement in his voice. Without hesitation, he began to unbutton his shirt.

She propped herself up on her elbow to get a better view as the black fabric fell open to reveal the sculpted chest she’d only felt before. He flicked open the buttons of his cuffs and shrugged out of the shirt, undressing with a matter-of-factness that was neither coy nor self-conscious.

Standing up, he stripped off his trousers and briefs, and she let her gaze drift down the angles and planes of his body. She especially liked the long line of muscle that curved down the front of his thighs. She scanned upward until she met his eyes, which were glinting with heat and humor. “What are you waiting for?” she asked.

“You to finish the X-ray,” he said, joining her on the bed. “It was scorching.”

“I was only going skin deep,” she said, burying her fingers in the strong waves of his hair as he crouched over her. “I’m shallow that way.”

“I plan to go much deeper than that,” he said, lowering his lips to hers for a short kiss. “But not yet. First, I want to savor you. If you’re ready.”

The scuff of his bare skin against her thighs and breasts was already setting off curls of heat inside her. “Oh, I’m more than ready,” she said, trying to pull his mouth back down to hers.

Instead he slid downward, kissing a path between her breasts and over her stomach until he brushed his lips against the most sensitive place on her body. The light contact was like a match touching a fuse as arousal spiraled through her. “Oh, yes, Adam, there!” she moaned.

He wrapped his hands around her knees and tugged her toward the edge of the bed. Slipping off the mattress to kneel on the floor, he lifted and spread her legs so they were draped over his shoulders.

She felt a flush of shyness rise up her neck and cheeks as he looked at her. “I want to taste you,” he said.

Of course he did. He was a chef. As he waited for her permission, he ran his palm over her stomach to brush between her legs again, sliding against her with his finger and changing her flush of embarrassment to a tide of yearning.

“Yes,” she breathed, her hips undulating with his touch.
“Yes, taste me.” And then her eyelids slammed closed as the first exquisite lap of his tongue sent pure ecstasy pouring
through her.

They both moaned at the same time and he murmured something indistinguishable against her, the puff of his breath magnifying the sensation. “What?” she panted.

He lifted his head. “You taste like caviar.”

She vaguely remembered going to a restaurant with Ward that had caviar on the menu with a price so exorbitant she hadn’t bothered to read further. Then the memory of her ex-fiancé vaporized as Adam put his mouth between her thighs once again, sliding first one and then two fingers inside her as he drove her closer and closer to another orgasm.

As his fingers and tongue sent her teetering to the edge, she reached down to pull his head away from her. “With you,”
she sai
d.

His face was glazed with the mindlessness of desire and he gave his head a little shake, like a wet dog, before he reached for his trousers. She heard the rip of foil, and then he shifted her legs off his shoulders so he could surge up over her, settling himself between her thighs.

She gasped as his cock rubbed against her. She bent her knees and tilted her hips in invitation, but he lowered his mouth to hers for a long, exploratory kiss. Even as she met his tongue with hers, the hot emptiness inside her craved filling. She pulled her mouth away and tilted her hips against him again. “I want you inside me,” she said, her lips nearly brushing against his as she spoke.

He stroked her temples with his thumbs. “I don’t want this to end,” he said, his voice rough.

“There’s always dessert,” she said. “And coffee.”

“Not coffee,” he said. “The finest, most complex Cognac,
meant to be sipped and lingered over for hours.” Flexing his
hips, he glided inside her, stoking and appeasing her arousal all
at once
.

Her head fell back, her eyelids closed, and she breathed,
“
Oh, ye
s!”

The satisfaction of him moving within her, the spicy scent of his heated skin swirling around her, the anchoring press of his weight, and the sound of his voice as he told her how luscious she was enveloped her in a mind-bending kaleidoscope of bliss. She felt the build of her orgasm as a point of white heat, concentrating every molecule of pleasure into its intense center. His rhythm increased and she felt the heat contract even further, until he thrust hard and her climax blasted through her.

She tried to stop her scream, but it was wrenched from her by muscles bursting with exquisite release. He drove deep one more time and went utterly still for a split second before his back bowed upward and he exhaled a long, harsh groan. She felt the hard pulsing of his climax, and then he sagged downward in a hot rush of expelled breath. Where his chest crushed her breasts his heart pounded, matching the thump of her own.

They lay that way as their breath and pulses slowed. When he slipped out of her and rolled away to strip off the condom, she curled into a ball, trying to retain the sensory memory of him.

“Cold?” he asked, pulling the quilt out from under her and slipping in beside her.

“No, just missing you,” she said, snuggling into his warmth.

“Here I am.” Even though she couldn’t see his face, she could hear the smile in his voice.

She stretched out full length against him, tangling her legs with his to feel the muscles of his thighs and calves against the softness of her skin. He skimmed his palm down her back to her bottom.

“Mmm,” he murmured. “Like a perfectly ripe peach. Makes me want to nibble on it.”

“No biting,” she said drowsily. “I get enough of that from my patients.”

She felt the huff of his laugh as he gave her a squeeze that pulled her even closer against him. He nuzzled against the top of her head. “You are delicious.”

Coming from a chef, she figured that was a higher compliment than telling her she was beautiful.

Chapter 12

S
ATCHMO WAS IN
trouble. Just as Hannah took
the first bite of her sandwich, Sharon had called to say she could coax the pony to his feet for a few minutes but then the little animal would lie down again.

Hannah slipped through the door of the pony’s stall to find Sharon looking at Satchmo with a worried crease between her b
rows. Th
e horsewoman’s expression lightened as she turned to Hannah. “Thanks for coming so quickly, Doc. He’s been like this since Lynnie came in this morning. Any results from the spinal tap?”

Hannah shook her head. “I won’t have any until tomorrow.” Zipping open her duffel, she pulled out her stethoscope and knelt in the straw beside Satchmo. She was relieved that he was not stretched out full length but lay with his legs curled under him and his chin resting lightly on the straw, his eyelids half-closed. He hadn’t given up yet.

“Hey, Satch, what’s going on with you?” She ran her hands over him, looking for signs of discomfort. The pony’s pale lashes didn’t flicker. In fact, he sighed as though he enjoyed her touch. “You are the sweetest little fellow,” Hannah said.

“Ain’t that the truth!” Sharon agreed. “Every hand in the barn has been by to see him this morning. He’s got something that makes you want to be around him.”

“I guess that’s why he was Jazzman’s stall buddy,” Hannah said, putting her stethoscope against the pony’s chest.

Once again she could find nothing overtly wrong with Satchmo. She took off the stethoscope and let her hands rest on his shoulder and barrel, feeling the slight roughness of his coat and the rise and fall of his breath, as his warmth seeped into her palms. She couldn’t let this lovable pony just slip away without
a fig
ht.

She shifted to sit cross-legged beside his head, stroking down his forehead to his velvety nose, his whiskers prickling against her hand. “Talk to me, Satch,” she murmured. “Give me a clue.”

The pony’s eyes came fully open and his ears turned toward her. He whickered into her hand.

“You speak pony, Doc?” Sharon asked. “Cause I think he was trying to tell you something.”

Hannah closed her eyes for a moment and let all the images of the pony and her examinations flow through her mind. There was only one real possibility.

She shoved to her feet. “I’m going to treat him for EPM. Starting now.”

Sharon frowned. “With what drugs? There’s no fully effective treatment for EPM that I ever heard of.”

Hannah rummaged around in the duffel bag. “I talked to the vet at the research lab yesterday. There’s an experimental drug combination they’ve been having some luck with.” She found the containers she’d pulled from Tim’s shelves earlier, just in case. Thank goodness her boss kept an unusually well-stocked
pharmacy
, so she didn’t have to wait for any of the medications.

She gave Sharon instructions on dosage and frequency, adding, “I’m including an immune system stimulant and an anti-inflammatory as well.”

“You sure you don’t want to wait for the test results?” Sharon asked, her arms crossed.

Yes, Hannah wanted to wait, but her instincts told her not to. The longer the parasites were in Satchmo’s body, the more likely they would cause irreversible damage. She didn’t want the little fellow to limp or stagger or ache for the rest of his life. Especially since Matt cared so much for his whisper pony. “We don’t have the luxury of time,” she said, tilting her chin up to look the taller woman in the eye. “It’s EPM. I’m sure of it.” She injected a confidence she didn’t feel into her statement.

“You’re the doc,” Sharon said, holding Hannah’s gaze for a long moment before she bent to give the pony a pat. “Okay, Satch, we’re going to get you cured.”

“He shouldn’t be worked,” Hannah said, packing up her sup
plies. “Just let him rest as long as he wants to. I’d get him up about once every two hours and make sure he drinks. Keep up the nutri
tional supplement Tim prescribed since he’s not eating much.”

Sharon took one handle of the medical bag and fell into step beside Hannah as she headed out for the truck. “Matt’s coming after school to see Satch,” Sharon said. “Do I need to call his father and cancel that?”

Hannah stumbled slightly at the mention of Adam. She’d managed to shove the prospect of talking to him out of her mind while she was working. The magnitude of what she’d done last night flooded through her, making it hard to focus on Sharon’s question. Instead of answering it, she asked a different one that had been bothering her. “Did Adam talk with you about buying Satchmo?”

“Yeah, but I don’t sell sick animals to my clients.” Sharon helped Hannah stow the bag in the truck. “Even if they can afford the medical treatment better than I can.”

Hannah’s admiration for the horsewoman rose another notch. Sharon’s decency gave her a dose of gumption. “I’ll call Adam and explain the situation,” Hannah said. “He can decide if he wants Matt to see Satchmo in this condition.”

Sharon shoved her hands in her breeches pockets. “Hey, Doc, I didn’t mean to question your judgment back there.”

Hannah felt a niggle of doubt creeping in again, but she quashed it. Part of the art of being a veterinarian was giving the animals’ owners confidence in her ability to diagnose the problem. “It’s a tough disease to pinpoint without the test results, but everything I’ve seen adds up to EPM.”

Sharon nodded and her stance relaxed.

Hannah opened the truck door and climbed in. “I’ll stop in again on my way home from work.”

“I guess you’ll be glad when Dr. Tim comes home so you can have some time off,” Sharon said.

Mrs. Shanks’s voice echoed in Hannah’s ears.
Where’s
Dr. Tim
? I’ll just wait until he gets back.
She gave the horsewoman
a wan smile. “Yeah, it’ll be nice.”

Sharon swung the truck door closed and gave it a friendly slap in farewell before she turned back to the barn.

Hannah slumped in the seat, feeling the weight of her decision lying heavy on her. Maybe she should have waited for Tim. Or for the test results.

“No! No more second-guessing!” She slammed the seat with
her fist, making the half-eaten sandwich sitting there pop into the
air. “I’m a darned good vet and I know it’s the right thing to do.”

She started to turn the key in the ignition and then remembered her promise to call Adam. She crossed her arms on the steering wheel and dropped her forehead against them with a moan. Her little spurt of courage had deserted her.

It was impossible to decide what to say to Adam about their encounter last night because her feelings were so tangled and conflicting she had no idea where to start. He was a terrific lover, and her body still fizzed with excitement at the memories. However, relief had washed through her when he’d kissed her awake at five a.m. to say he had to get home before Matt woke up. Her qualms about having to face Adam in the morning over the breakfast table spoke volumes about how little she knew the man. He was an enigma with troubles so serious she couldn’t begin to fathom them.

The trick would be to keep the conversation about Matt and Satchmo. Avoidance. It was something she’d become adept at with Ward.

She swiped over Adam’s cell number and beat a tattoo on the steering wheel with her other hand as she listened to it ring.

“Hannah.” His voice was low and intimate. “I was going to call you later. I’d like to come by after the restaurant closes.”

“Er, that’s not why I’m calling.” She rolled her eyes at her own gaucheness, but she didn’t know how to answer him. “It’s about Satchmo. His condition has worsened, and I’ve started treating him for EPM. Equine protozoal myeloencephalitis. It’s a parasite that attacks the central nervous system, and it’s tough to diagnose or completely cure.”

Adam muttered a curse. “Matt’s planning to spend most of the weekend at the stable. Should I keep him away?”

“Only you can decide that. However, Satchmo’s not in pain. He’s just lying down and staying down. I suppose he could die while Matt’s there, which would be traumatic, but I don’t think that will happen.” She took a breath. “On the other hand, Satchmo responds to Matt. It might actually be beneficial to the pony to have your son there. But it’s your call.”

He blew out a breath. “The kid has the worst luck when he loves someone.”

“It doesn’t seem fair,” Hannah agreed. “But I’m going to do my utmost to pull Satchmo through this.”

“I don’t know what to do,” he said.

Hannah considered her own recent experience with kids and animals. “It seems like it’s better to let children know what’s going on with the animals they love. If Satchmo dies and Matt isn’t there, it might be even more upsetting for him. Maybe you should give him the choice.”

“Is that what a good father does?” he asked. “Leaves it up to the child?”

She hesitated before she said, “I think maybe a good father
does
leave it up to his child. As long as you assure him that you’ll support any choice he makes.”

“Of course I’ll support him.” Adam’s voice lost its snap as he added, “I’m not cut out for this. And you don’t deserve to bear the brunt of it. Last night was—”

“Something we should talk about later,” Hannah said, going into avoidance mode again. “You mentioned coming by?” By then she hoped to have some plan in mind.

“It will be late.”

She hesitated at the thought of another short night’s sleep.
Without Tim she had a busy Saturday ahead of her. “No
problem
.”

“I’ll bring caviar.”

His last word sent heat surging through her body.
What had she gotten herself into?

Adam parked the Maserati in an empty space a half-block from the junior high school. He was fifteen minutes early for pick-up but he couldn’t sit still. Jumping out of the car, he paced down the sidewalk away from the square brick school building, scouring his brain for the right words to break the news about Satchmo to Matt and then offer him a graceful way to avoid the pain of watching the pony slide into death.

It didn’t help that flashbacks of his night with Hannah kept intruding. Even though he knew she had offered him the comfort of her body out of sympathy, he had lost himself in her responsiveness, the craving for alcohol vanquished by the unexpected explosion of their coming together.

Why the hell hadn’t he called his AA sponsor? What had possessed him to involve Hannah?

It was because she was his lifeline to Matt. After reading Maggie’s letter, he’d needed to feel that connection with his son, so he’d turned to Hannah.

He shook his head. It was more than that. She was the light to his shadow. He wanted to bask in her healing warmth. Now he was going to screw things up between Matt and Hannah by tangling his own desires with their relationship.

He yanked his hands out of his pockets and shoved them through his hair, trying to force himself to think clearly.

It was Friday, one of the two busiest days at The Aerie, and he hadn’t done anything more than glance at the reservations list. As of an hour ago, the lamb delivery hadn’t arrived and they were down to the last bottle of Le Montrachet, one of their finest French white Burgundies.