He kissed her again, owning her mouth as well as the slick place where his fingers moved in achingly slow circles. He touched her, sliding in and out and over her with practiced care. Suddenly all her restraint dissipated like smoke.
“Yes,” she said against his mouth. “I want you.”
He smiled; she could feel the curve of his mouth as hotly and severely as the rising pressure on her clit. She sensed him reach for his magic. A little droplet of water formed around his finger, vibrating, intensifying his strokes as though they were electricity.
“Prove it.” A little laugh colored his voice. “Come for me.”
The wicked order streaked through her, shooting from her ears, to her brain, to the combination of his hand and his water magic. The words triggered her, shutting off every thought but those of him and what he was doing to her. All those years of fantasizing and masturbation, and her imagination had failed spectacularly. It had never even drifted close to this.
And then she came, bursting into orgasm like she dove into a pool from a hundred feet up.
“Yes. That’s it,” he said in her ear. “Oh, God, that’s good. Keep coming, beautiful.”
He’d always been so good at getting people to do what he wanted, so she was bound to comply. She shook around him. His hand became the center of her universe, and moved easily over her increasingly slippery flesh. She let him extract every last quiver of pleasure she knew was inside her, and several more she didn’t.
She couldn’t speak, so she jabbed her fingers into his thick hair and gave it a pull, telling him to stop. His hand left her, the dress swishing back over her sensitized skin. Strength started to seep from her legs, making her wobbly. With a gentle laugh, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pivoted them both. Kicking aside a leather conference chair, he planted her ass on the edge of the table. They watched each other, breathing heavily, the red light from the exit sign over the door casting a sexy aura over the room.
He’d called her beautiful.
Because she’d already been brave, she stretched for his bow tie. Pulled it loose, loving how it dangled, ribbonlike, down his chest. Beneath the collar of his shirt, his neck had gone damp with sweat. His earpiece was still coiled around his head, and she looked at it questioningly.
“I can hear them,” he said, unwinding it from around his ear. “They can’t hear me unless I want them to. And believe me, after all this time, I want it to be just you and me.”
Her breath hitched. Could he be saying what she thought he’d said? What she wanted him to say? She started to undo his shirt buttons, one by one. Taking the fabric in her fists, she slowly pulled the shirt out of his pants, a deliberate, sexual echo of how she’d undressed him in her clinic not two days ago. He met her eyes with a heated look.
Parting the halves of his shirt revealed the long white bandage across his chest. She laid her palm over it.
“It’s practically healed,” he said. “What you did, the mix of water magic and medicine . . . Stars, Kelsey, you’re brilliant.”
He leaned down, kissing her, and she pushed the tux coat and shirt from his shoulders in one move. She flashed back to high school, to that day when he’d first entered the halls after growing up and out practically overnight. She remembered not believing that the skinny, funny kid in baggy clothes had transformed into this leanly muscled young man. She recalled wondering what his new body might feel like, whether he would have been firm or if he’d have deflated like a cartoon.
Now she knew. And he was hot and hard and oh so real.
Her fingers started on his pants zipper.
“Here?” he growled, even as he pressed in closer. “Are you sure?”
“After all this time,” she said, stealing his words, “yes.”
His pants fell to the floor.
“We have so much to talk about”—he touched her wrist and pulled her to stand—“after.”
“We do.”
He slowly pulled down her stretchy, clingy dress and caught it near her knees, letting her step out of it.
He ran his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip as he took her in, whispering more praise in Ofarian. “I should have told you how gorgeous you looked before I took it off.” He straightened. “I should have told you that the night of our betrothal, and pretty much every day before or since. You always wear scrubs and that white coat, and I really don’t care, but I love the way you look dressed up. Your hair down—”
“David.” His words were too much. Her body thrummed in anticipation.
He blinked up from where he’d been staring at her chest. “Yeah?”
“Shut up,” she said. “Unless you want to tell me to come again.”
Even in the darkness she could see his Cheshire grin. He scooped her closer, pressing her aching nipples into the gauze over his chest. She tried to pry herself away, afraid of further injury, but he wouldn’t let her, and she gave up her half-assed fight rather quickly. Gave up thinking like a doctor.
Their kiss turned frantic and fast, teetering on the edge of pain. Little lights zoomed at her periphery and she had no idea if it was from oxygen deprivation or just . . . him. There were too many things she wanted to do to him. Too many things she wanted him to do to her.
She slid her fingers beneath the elastic of his underwear, taking them down. He kicked them aside. And then David Capshaw, the thick, hard length of him, was in her hands.
Twelve years of dreaming could never conjure the real thing. Twelve years of self-torture and pining, and he was finally hers. Maybe just for tonight, but that was okay. Two months ago he’d made it clear he hadn’t wanted her forever. Maybe forever was overrated. Maybe tonight was the peak. If that was the case, she wasn’t going to waste time thinking about the descent. She’d stand on the very top of the world and enjoy the ever-loving hell out of it.
“Kelse?” David slid his hand under her hair. She still had him in her grip, and his breath labored. “Where’d you go?”
She blinked, disconcerted to find her vision a little blurry with wetness. She kissed him to disguise it. “Nowhere. I’m right here.”
And then she gave him a nice, slow, smooth pull that made him groan. He stroked her face with his thumbs as she stroked his erection. Finally, with a grimace, he peeled her fingers off him and gave her shoulders a gentle push back onto the table. She lay down, the faux wood cool against her hot skin. He crawled over her, the feeble exit sign light casting his muscles in crimson.
As he lowered himself to his elbows, she hooked a knee around his hip, loving the feel of his skin against hers. When he took his cock in his hand and rubbed it over her wetness, she whispered, “Is this really happening?”
And then he pushed inside her with a sigh as deep as the ocean.
“It is.” He stared into her eyes. “Oh, my beautiful Kelsey, it is.”
Of all the stars in the sky, in this universe and the next, nothing burned as brightly or as fevered as the feel of David moving inside her. His hips carried the movement of the waves, pushing her higher and higher away from herself. Great stars, she was full of him—where he stretched her and stroked her down below, and where his wordless whispers filled her mind.
She clung to him, digging in, scoring him. Loving him.
“I want you to come again.” The demand timed with his thrusts. “I want to feel you. Around me. Come on, beautiful.”
Because she’d always been powerless against him, she obeyed again.
“Oh, yes.” He pumped faster now, driving into her with such determination and power that her body skidded backward on the table. She felt him pulse inside her—long, rippling waves of pleasure that he vocalized with deep, plaintive sounds.