Chapter Seventeen #3
Beau followed her into the small sitting room. She picked up the book she’d been reading before Dave and his friends launched their attack on the town.
Beau plucked the book from her fingers and returned it to the round table next to her chair. “About those needs,” he began, but she fluttered her fingers, brushing him off.
“My needs aren’t your problem,” she said.
“I can’t help but feel that they are. I’ve been remiss in some way if you’re already considering other options while I’m standing right here.”
“That’s sweet.” She patted his chest. “You’ve done your best. Don’t think I don’t appreciate your efforts, either.”
Dark blond eyelashes dropped over narrowed blue eyes. The risorius muscle flickered again. “My efforts.”
“Honestly. Herculean,” she assured him. “You don’t have a thing to be embarrassed about. I promise, I won’t forget you.”
She headed for the stairs. Beau followed.
“I see what you’re doing,” he said from a few risers below her.
“Really? What might that be?” She tossed a glance over her shoulder.
His gaze had gained heat, and anticipation overrode her train of thought. She might never forget him, but she’d guarantee that he thought about her every once in a while, too.
His hand grazed the stair rail next to her hip. He’d narrowed the number of risers between them to one.
“Gotta be honest with you, Belle,” he said.
His breath warmed her bare shoulder, and her breasts tightened under the thin black tank top that contained them.
“You’re a doctor, and you know about physical responses, but when it comes to human emotions and feelings, you’re somewhat unenlightened.
If you’re going to miss me, and you don’t want me to go, then why not come right out and say so, so we can talk about it? ”
Because she was going to miss him, and she didn’t want him to go, and there was no point in talking about it, because talking changed nothing. “Get over yourself. I’m not unenlightened. I’m realistic.”
They reached the top of the stairs.
He followed her into her bedroom. “And, realistically, you honestly think you can get the same satisfaction from another man that you’ve been getting from me?”
“Why not? If the chemistry’s right,” she added, because there was no denying its role in the attraction between them. “Although if by satisfaction you mean an orgasm, I don’t need a man. I can get those all on my own.”
“If you believe any orgasm you get on your own is as good as one I can provide, then I really have been remiss,” Beau said sadly, shaking his head. “But I don’t think you believe that. I think you’re worried that I’ve ruined you for other men.”
Belle reached for the button on the fly of his jeans. “The only thing you’re ruining right now is the moment. Take off your pants.”
“You probably should get used to taking care of your own orgasms, at that,” Beau said. He stripped off his jeans. “Most men wouldn’t put up with your bossiness.”
Belle peeled off her yoga pants and tossed them aside. The black tank top sailed across the room to land at the legs of a chair, leaving her in pale-pink panties, and with no strong desire to see to her own current needs. “Good thing you aren’t like most men.”
Beau’s sweatshirt followed her tank top.
He hooked his thumbs in her panties, dragging them down with breathtaking attention to detail, and she held his shoulders to step out of them.
He straightened, his hands skimming up the insides of her thighs as he rose.
She wriggled her palm into the front of his briefs and wrapped her fingers around a mammoth erection that said her bossiness didn’t bother him in the least. Quite the opposite, in fact.
She ran the tip of her finger along the perineal raphe, the sensitive seam underneath his scrotum.
Beau sucked air in through his teeth. “That definitely doesn’t have the same effect when I do it myself.”
She pressed her face against him and smiled into his chest while enjoying the softness of his skin sliding over the hard length of his erection.
She carefully caressed the glans with her thumb, aware of how sensitive it was.
He responded by easing one finger inside the labial folds of her vulva, and her smile turned to small gasps of pleasure.
He cupped her breast and mimicked the movements she made on him with his thumb on her tightened nipple.
Vaginal muscles gripped the finger he had inside her, and she started to pant as her orgasm began its ascent.
“Since you’re the bossy one here,” Beau said, his tone deeper than normal, and more tightly controlled, “why don’t you tell me when you’re ready to move this show to the bed?”
“I’m ready.”
So very ready.
Not quite ready for him to lift her and toss her, however.
She landed on her back and bounced on the ancient spring mattress, which let out an agonized groan when it took her weight.
The mattress—which must have come west with the first wagon train—was lumpy, making the landing harder than likely intended, but she was more focused on Beau than the hard knot of wool digging into her spine.
His briefs had disappeared. Her study of male anatomy in medical school hadn’t dulled her appreciation for it, and thanks to weeks of hard work, Beau’s anatomy hit the top three—based entirely on her professional opinion.
She lay crosswise on the bed. He spread her knees so that he stood between them, and she hung her legs over his hips and held on as he maneuvered his prime anatomical specimen into position.
“Could you be any slower?” she complained, because her needs were growing impatient, and he was taking his sweet time. “Or am I going to have to finish this on my own?”
Beau paused what he was doing. Interest lit his eyes, and a thoughtful smile warmed his lips. “Do I get to watch?”
There had to be something wrong with her, because the idea of fondling herself while he watched had a certain appeal. What appealed to her most, however, was the thought of the long night ahead. They’d done a fair bit of exploring each other already, but there was plenty more to be done.
The thought of how much she’d miss nights like this made her sad, and she didn’t like sadness. She preferred to stay strong and focus on the things she could control.
“Why are you even still here, if I have to do all the work for you?” she asked.
“I’ve definitely been remiss if you’ve gotten the impression that this is work.”
Finally, after a few more seconds of torture, because Beau couldn’t do anything that anyone wanted without some form of protest, he proved he was capable of finishing whatever he started.
The backs of Belle’s tightly closed eyelids exploded with bright neon lights, and she heard a dull roar in her ears as her orgasm let loose—although the roar might have been Beau.
He collapsed beside her, breathing hard, and it was several long moments before her eyesight returned and the room slowly stopped spinning.
She flopped on her stomach and tucked her arms under her pillow to cradle her head. She was satisfied, contented, and everything inside of her glowed. Chemistry was amazing.
He played with a lock of her hair.
“I don’t understand it,” she said, her face half buried in the pillow because she didn’t possess enough energy to lift her head. “Why is sex with you so amazing, when honestly, you can be a real jerk sometimes?”
“If you need more time to figure it out, you could always come to New York with me,” he said. “I’m pretty sure the four hundred thousand dollars you owed is now a nonissue. They might hunt you down, but I doubt if they’d kill you.”
She rolled over, trying to come up with something clever to say—something to make him laugh—but then she saw his face and every clever thought in her head died, because he looked so serious. So serious that the word yes teased the tip of her tongue.
But what would her family connections, which had grown more complicated, not less, do to his career?
What would her connection with someone as famous as Beau do to Burning Scrub, which relied on anonymity for survival?
Not to mention that medical practice she wanted someday.
The tabloids and every internet influencer under the sun digging around could ruin them all.
There was also Shanda, the wild card with no conscience.
Imagine the havoc she’d wreak if she thought she had something to gain.
“I’m your rebound, remember?” She’d been the one to suggest that a rebound was just what he needed, then volunteered for the position, so there was no reason for it to hurt her to say it. “We agreed this ends when you leave. Let’s not make more out of it than it is.”
“The offer stands if you need it.”
If she needed it. Not because it was what he wanted. The gesture was well-intentioned, but she could stand on her own. No one had forced her to come to Burning Scrub. She’d made the decision. She could have found a way to turn down their offer if she’d really wanted.
“You say that now, but I’m not the one Adam’s likely to kill,” she said.
“True. Just…” Beau tracked one fingertip from the flat of her belly, upward, between the curves of her breasts, until he touched the base of her throat, then her lips. “You’ve had a few unpleasant surprises already, and there’s likely going to be more. Remember that no family’s perfect, okay?”
His mouth followed the trail he’d left with his touch, and Belle’s insides sighed. Four more years in Burning Scrub she could handle. This was family, and whether she liked it or not, it was hers. The thought of a lifetime without Beau in it, however…
Her heart tightened until her head had to intervene with a reminder that heartbreak wasn’t real. Then it turned on her by adding that chemistry and love might just have a whole lot more in common than science had led her to believe.