He was enraptured by the vision of her poised over him naked, entirely uninhibited. There she stood, confident and caring as she unwrapped his hand with light and efficient movements, not seeming to notice that he could see just about every inch of her bare flesh.
“What doctors know and what doctors feel are two different things.” The last bit of tape and wrap was off, and Josie caressed his white and drawn fingers.
He had long red scars from the laceration and the surgery, and his hand was stiff and awkward. Ugly. Marred and mocking.
Josie put her tongue on it and traced a bumpy scar.
His heart about leapt out of his chest. His cock felt strangled in his shorts. Because Josie’s touch wasn’t pitying or curious, but was sensual, arousing, the touch of a woman who wants to know every inch of a man.
Then she massaged the stiff palm with her thumb, before placing his hand on her waist. “Now you can hold me with both hands. How does it feel?”
Delicious. That’s how she felt as he drew her in. He was holding her, but not close enough. With a nudge, she came forward, her breasts splaying across his chest while his erection found a place to nest between her receptive thighs. It was as good as he could ever have imagined—better, softer, his heart tripping along with careening speed while his breath jerked and halted on sighs and deep, reaching, languid pulls.
His uninjured fingers were racing across her dewy skin, while the other two just rested in place. He couldn’t feel them, didn’t care, wanted only to caress and stroke and love Josie to a place where she would be his and only his.
“You feel perfect,” he murmured in her ear, brushing his lips against the pink lobe.
They were still hovering in the door of his bedroom and he walked backwards, coaxing her with him until he felt the cool sheets at the back of his knees. He hadn’t made his bed, not since the accident, and it was just a matter of shoving the top sheet out of the way until there was a soft surface to spread Josie out on.
Poised beside his bed, he held her firm, bent his head and kissed her. All the frustration and feeling and fascination he felt poured out onto her sweet plump lips.
“Oh,” she moaned, ransacking his hair.
Houston had never liked women’s hands in his hair, but Josie was different. She was more, everything, day to his night, and he leaned and pushed and coaxed until she was on his bed, thighs spread.
Her breathing was shallow, cheeks pink, eyes wide and cloudy with desire, and he had never seen a more beautiful woman. “I’ve never felt this way before,” he murmured into the pale depths of her inner thighs.
“What way?”
He flicked his tongue over her soft skin.
Sudden pain rippled through his head as Josie dug into his hair and held tight. When Houston glanced up past the curve of her belly, he saw she was arching in pleasure, shifting to urge his tongue away from her thigh and to her clitoris. Bucking, like she needed something to ride.
The room was muted, the sheet cool, his vision in sharp focus. His nostrils filled with the loam scent of their sweat-glistened flesh, their desire that connected them here, right now, in the most intimate touch possible.
With a little flicker right across her damp folds, he murmured, “I’ve never been so fascinated by a woman. I think the first time you bent over I was gone.”
And hadn’t recovered himself since.
Chapter Forty-One
Josie pried her tongue from where it was attached to the roof of her mouth and spoke. “So being clumsy was a good thing then?” If it kept his tongue stroking over her, she’d drop an entire boxful of scalpels.
It was different this time, more intimate than when they had indulged in quick, hard passion on his living room floor. Josie understood Houston better now, saw beneath the cool professional mask to the caring and vulnerable man he was.
He laughed, nose tickling her thigh, hot breath lapping across her already sensitive inner flesh. “Good for me, anyway. I don’t know about you.”
If he only knew. She wanted to confess how she felt, that their relationship could grow and move forward one tiny step at a time, and that she was willing to try. But she didn’t want him to tense, to retreat, when right now he was wide open to her, connected, caressing in his care. Heart in his eyes.
Houston cared about her, she could see that. He might not believe it, and maybe it wasn’t love yet, but it wassomething.Real and growing.
“It’s good for me, too, since it got me here.”
Houston touched his tongue to her again.
“Oh, yeah. Right there, it’s very good.” She indulged in a little moan as she watched his dark hair bent over her.
This was the kind of position that normally inhibited her, especially midday with light pouring in his large glass windows. But with Houston, she felt sexy, seductive.