Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Annika
“I fell when I ran out of Zach’s apartment,” I say as Dr. Cross returns from the en suite with a first-aid box. “It was raining buckets, and the concrete was wet.”
The plastic box looks delicate in his large hands. He empties it on top of the coffee table.
My heart is thudding away somewhere below my belly. Or is that my core beating with its own pulse?
That kiss dances like a living flame inside me.
Is it supposed to feel dizzy and frenzied like that?
Have I been kissing people wrong? Is there a secret kissing guide out there no one told me about?
My breath is a bubble in my throat as Dr. Cross sinks to his knees. The sight of his hair-thickened forearms against my smooth legs makes me core flutter. There’s so much to explore between us that a lifetime wouldn’t be enough. “It doesn’t hurt much…” The rest of my words slink off my lips as he cups my knee below the scrape gently.
“We should have bandaged it up immediately,” he says in a steady voice. Is he so unaffected by the kiss? Can he just turn it off like that?
“I cleaned it in the shower.”
I wince as he cleans the area and then dabs antiseptic gel on top. “Who’s Zach?”
“The friend I stay with when I don’t have anywhere else to go,” I blurt out, my attention fixed on how his long fingers look against my flesh. My legs are smooth, every hair on my body plucked out, thanks to the grand date I was supposed to have with Rahul.
His head jerks up. “Are you homeless?”
I flush to the roots of my hair. “Of course not. Just… financially cautious.”
“Your family won’t help?”
His voice is casual, working hard not to sound probing.
I almost fall into the trap of admitting that I’m sitting on a pack of lies with them. That I couldn’t bear to dip into the monthly allowance my parents give me when our relationship is distant and fractious. That when things get tight, I sell the super expensive gifts Asha keeps sending me without fail.
God, the man’s cunning. “Prefer to be independent.”
“Hmm.” His fingers dance on my ankle before he picks up a Band-Aid. “So you stay with this… Zach?”
“When I’m in-between jobs. I pay minimal rent since I sleep on his couch. Like before I moved in with Martha. If I wasn’t at my boyfriend’s, that is. I used to volunteer at the senior clinic for the evening or night shifts and clean houses during the day.” The words tumble out of me. My filter is seriously slipping after that mind-blowing kiss.
“Why volunteer?”
“It’s the only way I could get clinical training hours. Not everyone’s as generous an employer as you are,” I add, feeling defensive.
He peels open the Band-Aid and presses it onto the scrape with utmost care. “Why did you run out of Zach’s apartment tonight?”
I’m so glad he’s not focusing on the colorful details of my varied job experiences. I say, “He and Rahul were going at it. On the rug in the living room. I waited at this bar for an hour, looking ridiculous in that dress. Guess he was too busy to call and cancel.”
Both of Dr. Cross’s hands are on my knees as he looks up. Something dances in his eyes, but I can’t fathom what it is. “Then you got the call from Arthur, so you rushed to the hospital?”
Not sure why we’re going over the events that got me here. All I can feel are the tips of his long fingers digging into the flesh above my knees. If he moves up by three inches, he can reach my…
“I’m sorry you had such a shitty evening,” he says, expression grave.
“This is making it better,” I say, leaning forward and catching his lips with mine.
They are cool and soft. Groaning, I tilt and rub for a better fit, lick at the seam until he lets me in. The taste of him is decadent, even better than the first time.
My pulse hammers loudly in my ears, but I hear his surprised grunt. Those elegant fingers stroke my jaw gently. “Annika,” he whispers, shifting the tenor of the kiss.
My name, my identity, my entire being feels different seen through him.
I feel reborn. Less of this woman who ruins everything she touches, who can’t do anything right, who disappoints everyone.
In Dr. Cross’s capable hands, at the mercy of his soft lips, I don’t have to deserve it, or earn it, to have it.
I could simply be this glorious creature that exists on pleasure. Throwing my head back, I cling to him as his mouth trails down my jaw.
His grip firms around my neck, and yet he gentles me enough that I give over the rope into his hands. “Good girl,” he whispers before coming for me again.
The kiss turns slow and sensual. My fingers sink into his hair, and I’m suspended between the armchair and him. Suspended between reality and this dream-like fantasy.
“Slow, Ani,” he says, and I moan in protest. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Easy for him to say, but how many life-changing kisses can I pack into one night? How many times will this perfect man walk into my life and ask to spend the night with me?
Urgency throbs through me, making me dig my hands into his shoulders. The tensile strength of his muscles is a treat. If I could, I would burrow under his skin and build myself a house there. A house filled with gentle kisses and lingering glances and unspoken promises.
He sips at my lips and kisses me slowly, even as I’m spiraling with need. As if I should be savored.
It’s the kind of kiss that melts you from the inside, that comes once in a lifetime, that sneaks into your soul.
I pull at his hair and nip at his lips. I want rough possession that will shut down all these forbidden feelings. His chuckle reverberates through me.
This isn’t the fierce, hungry lover of earlier, but the older man who knows the value of each kiss. And I want a hundred more, a million more with him.
The thought is jarring enough that it pulls me out of the moment. I jerk my head back. For a second, it feels like I can’t breathe, like he’s stolen all the air from my lungs. Like I might fracture into a million fragments outside of his gravity, outside of this universe he’s lured me into.
Chest rising and falling, Dr. Cross frowns. His thick hair stands every which way, thanks to my fingers. “Annika? Is something wrong?”
I shake my head, not trusting myself.
He considers me for a moment, then stands and groans. My breath races at the outline of his thick erection pushing against his trousers.
At least he’s as out of control as I feel.
I can hear the rough rustle of his breaths as he grabs the neck of the champagne bottle and takes a long swig. It slips out of the corner of his mouth and drips down his neck.
I want to lick it up so badly that I bite my tongue.
Dr. Cross swipes at his mouth, then sucks off the dripping champagne from the side of his hand with a sound that has me squeezing my thighs together.
Gray eyes turn dark as they zoom in on me, and he grins. The crooked slant of his mouth tells me he knows exactly how I feel.
“Something a little lighter?” He comes back to the coffee table, turns the four small plastic bags the cards came in around, and empties one. “Interests, perfect!”
I stretch my legs and let out a groan. My banged knee twitches in pain. But it’s nothing compared to how my body’s throbbing to be used. To be ruined. To be owned.
Dr. Cross holds up a card in his palm, face down. “How about we guess for the other? I think that’s what this one’s about.”
I turn it around. “Favorite show or movie or series.”
“Might not work for us unless we answer for ourselves.”
“ Star Wars , the original three movies,” I say with a satisfied smirk. “You like to ignore the later prequels. And I agree with you. Padme deserved so much better than whiny, angsty Anakin.”
He grips his lower lip with his teeth as if to keep the laughter inside. But his eyes overflow with it. Laugh lines crinkle out from the ends, and his nostrils flare.
God, the man’s absolutely gorgeous. And suddenly, I realize that if all we did tonight were sit here and talk, it would still be the best night of my life. Already, I feel transformed at a cellular level. Now, my body, heart, and mind know that it’s possible for me to be happy with someone.
What that means come tomorrow morning, I don’t care. I will not ruin this in anticipation of not having it again.
“How do you know?” he finally says.
“You went off on that rant with Arthur on May fourth, and he put you on speaker. Martha and I couldn’t stop giggling. It’s the first time I realized what a nerd you are.”
“You’re sneaky.”
I pull my knees against my chest and tuck my chin on top. “No way you can guess mine.”
His eyes sparkle. “The 1992 Bollywood film DDLJ with Shahrukh Khan in it.”
I gasp, feet sliding to the floor. “Oh my God!”
He shrugs. “Mom told me how much you gush over it. So I watched it.”
“Yeah?”
“Not a bad movie. Although I’d say it’s the heroine that steals the show.” He flicks his fingers together, trying to remember the actress’s name. “Kajol.”
I’m so excited that I skate to the edge of the armchair and grip his thighs. “Right? I mean, people attribute The Mummy movie to their bi-awakening, but mine was totally Kajol. She’s hot. Then there’s this French actress that stars in this detective show, and she’s…” I blow a kiss with my fingers.
Slowly, I realize what I just blurted out. I mean, it’s not a big deal. Unless someone makes it.
Moving slowly, as if to not spook me, Dr. Cross wraps his fingers around my nape and pulls me close. “So, what you’re telling me is that I have double the population to fight for your attention?”
This close, his breath feathers over my lips and the tips of our noses bump. “No.” I can’t fight the shiver that zings down my spine. By the time his hands drift to my shoulders and upper back, I’m practically vibrating. “You’ve got it all now, Dr. Cross.” I rub my nose against his playfully. But I can’t quite cut through the tension that surrounds us. “Honestly, between the one toxic girlfriend who dumped me for not being ambitious enough and the guy I ran out on tonight, you’re winning. Except…”
“Except what?”
“Except I thought you would ask for more by now.” I sound a little whiny, but I don’t care. This is my last chance to see how this kind of chemistry translates into sex before I willingly walk into purgatory in a few weeks.
Long fingers sift through the tangles in my hair, gaze sweeping over my face. “I did say I want to spend the night getting to know you.”
My stomach bottoms out at the gravity with which he says this. As if it were a very reasonable suggestion and not the most bizarre thing ever. I want to tell him that my attraction quotient goes down the more you get to know me. But I don’t. Not when he looks at me as if I’m the most interesting woman he’s ever met. “Yes, but—”
“Because you want to know…” he says, releasing me and coming to his feet. I feel desolate without his touch. Moving around, he sorts the cards into different piles with a calm intensity. “How it feels to live out that forbidden fantasy you’ve read about in romance novels?”
I’m so busy tracking his movements that I hear that edge in his voice a little late. But all I care about right now is that he’s not touching me, and the damned coffee table is between us again.
Feeling reckless, I step onto it. It wobbles, one leg sticking up and then the other. With a squeal, I sort of plunge my torso forward, hoping he’ll catch me. Or I’ll break my head open, and it will truly be a Valentine’s Day unlike any other.
“Fuck, Ani,” Dr. Cross shouts as he catches me. “You could’ve gotten hurt.”
Even in that gravity-less state, his stern voice sends tingles straight to my core. The impact of his body against mine is divine . At the risk of sounding like a serial killer, I want to wrap myself up in his skin.
“I knew you’d catch me,” I say, wrapping my legs around him. “Plus, I saw it in a movie once.”
“You’re crazy.”
I’ve been called that before, but there’s something refreshing in the way he says it. Like he needs a little bit of crazy in his life.
Like he needs a little dose of me.
He plops a kiss on my lips and starts moving.
Dr. Cross groans as I glide up and down. “And gorgeous.” Another kiss with his tongue invading my mouth. His strokes get wilder, hungrier, hotter. He’s devouring me, and I’m melting from the inside out. “And funny and sexy and… fuck, Annika.”
This time, he doesn’t let me up for air. He ravages my mouth. Nips and bites and licks and soothes my lips. I slip down his hard body and feel the broad head of his erection notching up against my damp folds. Fire ignites inside me at the fleeting contact.
My mouth dries, imagining how he would feel inside me. I’m desperate to know how he moves, how he chases his climax, how he looks when he falls apart.
I can barely catch my breath while he carries and kisses me, calls me delicious adjectives, and moves steadily toward some destination. My bottom hits something hard, and my back comes up against something solid, but I’m nothing but pure sensation.
I’m made of cotton candy, fizzy champagne, and that delicious custard that falls apart at one lick. I’ve never liked my body more than when I’m in his arms.
I’ve never liked myself more than when I’m with him.
“This is what I want.” I press my palms against his chest, pulling back.
His heart is thundering under my palm. “Ani…”
I cover his mouth, determined to say my piece. “This isn’t just some forbidden fantasy night with a stranger who will fuck me and walk away. If it was all I wanted…” I shake my head and pull my arms away from him. “I had a crush on you before I saw you. When you walked in and I realized who you were, I felt like I was hit by lightning. And now… after you’ve asked me questions that no one ever has, I want more. I want to know if it will be as good as I think it will be between us.”