Authors: Kimberly Dean
He pulled back sharply.
She caught his wrist. “Don’t stop,” she said breathlessly.
“I’m not sure about this, Delia.”
She pulled his hand back to her breast and whimpered when his fingers spread round her, capturing her.
God, she needed this.
He squeezed, and the heat inside her spiked. She’d been secretly waiting for this for so long. He was touching her. Intimately. Fondling and coaxing. The rush inside her head was dizzying.
. This was what she needed. It was the only thing that was going to ease her distress.
She let her legs spread apart. “Hot,” she panted. “Burning up.”
His hand stilled. “Oh, God. Don’t push me.”
He started to pull away. “We can’t do this.”
She clung to him. “Please.”
“No. It wouldn’t be right. I’m supposed to be taking care of you, not taking advantage of you.”
She looked at him beseechingly. He couldn’t stop now. He’d reduced her to a writhing, needy mess. If he left her, she’d be a pile of smoldering ashes by morning.
“I need it.” She needed it more than her next breath. Needed him. She’d trusted him to fight this battle with her, but if he couldn’t…
She caught the washcloth. “I’ll do it myself.”
His head snapped back, and he jerked the washcloth away. “The hell you will.”
“Please!” she cried as his weight lifted abruptly from the bed. She reached for him, but he stood just out of her reach, looking down at her and breathing heavily. Suddenly, he turned. She propped herself up onto her elbows to watch him as he walked away into the haze.
He couldn’t leave her like this!
She heard water running again, and her head dropped back. No. No more. She couldn’t take any more teasing.
Silence bounced off the walls when he came back to the side of the bed. Water dripped from his hand onto the carpet as she waited in tense anticipation.
“For me,” she whispered.
He stood still, almost as if fighting some internal struggle, but then moved fast. She collapsed back against the pillow when his hand dove between her legs and cupped her. Her hips thrust off the bed, half in an attempt to press harder against his touch and half in an effort to shove him away. The washcloth was colder than the others had been. It felt like ice against her tender skin.
“Is this what you need, hot stuff?”
She gyrated on the sheets. “Yessss.”
His hand began to move. She bit her lip and closed her eyes so tightly, stars danced behind her eyelids.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” he said in a strained voice. He found his place at her side. “You better not regret this.”
She forced her eyelids open enough to see his hand playing between her legs. The vision was blisteringly erotic. The fire in her body all radiated from her core. If he could ease her suffering there, she’d do anything.
“Here?” he asked.
Her breath caught when the terrycloth pressed directly against her clit.
A little cry left the back of her throat when his fingers burrowed between her swollen lips and found her opening.
“Or maybe there?”
Her hips left the bed entirely until her weight was balanced on her shoulder blades and her heels. He’d pushed the terrycloth up inside her using not one, but two fingers. His hands were big, but the added bulk of the washcloth made him feel huge. His fingers squirmed deeper and deeper until they were lodged inside her.
Then they began to twist.
“Oh, God!” Delia’s body contorted, still balanced mid-air, as his devilish fingers curled inside her.
He wasn’t teasing her anymore.
“Hurry,” she begged.
Flames danced inside her belly, and tears pressed at her eyes. The need was so fervent, it was almost cruel. She cried out loudly when his bare thumb found her clit. Just a few nudges had her spiraling out of control.
She caught his thigh, which was pressed hard against her hip. Her fingers dug into the taut muscles as the first wave hit her. His fingers pumped in and out until her pussy clenched down on him like a vise. Even then, his thumb played mercilessly with her clitoris.
Her head twisted back and forth on the pillow. He drew out her pleasure, holding her at the peak until he finally let her go over. At last, she fell back against the bed.
He gently brushed her hair away from her face, but she felt his hand shake. “Sleep,” he ordered.
Delia could feel the tension in him, but darkness pulled at her. She didn’t want to leave him. Not now. Not just when she’d realized how much time she’d wasted being timid. Unfortunately, fatigue wouldn’t let her indulge any further. It overwhelmed her. For the first time in hours, the relentless heat had been banked. Her body needed sleep to fight the demon inside her.
“Let go,” he whispered.
He’d promised he’d be here when she awoke. Feeling safe and cared for, she let herself slip away.
* * * * *
“She’s burning up, Doc. I don’t know if the medication is doing its job or not.”
Delia snuggled into her pillow and wished for quiet. She didn’t want to wake up. Not yet. Her sleep had been fitful. Too light and full of dreams. Dreams of fire. Dreams of demons. Dreams of sex.
She kicked at the covers that had once again found their way on top of her. His doing, no doubt. She tried to blot out the soft conversation on the other side of the room, but she was too attuned to his voice. It invaded the recesses of her consciousness. Made her take notice.
“Last time she took it? About two hours ago.”
She drifted in and out, catching only bits and pieces of the discussion that was surely about her. Two hours? She felt like she’d been asleep for two minutes.
“Hold on. Let me look.” There was a short pause as his footsteps crossed the room to the bathroom. Drawers opened and closed. “Yeah, here’s one.”
She rolled away from all the noise. Her senses were honed to too sharp of a point. He was too loud. The light beside the bed was too bright. Her skin was too raw.
The damnable heat was back.
Delia felt her distress return. She’d thought they’d beaten it, but there it was smoldering deep down inside her. Why wouldn’t it leave her alone?
The muffled voice didn’t go away. “All right. Give me a minute.”
She heard the phone settle onto the nightstand, and she rolled away, onto her stomach.
“No, no,” he murmured. “Look at me.”
She looked at her caretaker blearily when his hand settled on her back. He shouldn’t touch her. Not now. Things happened when he touched her. Wonderful, scary, exhausting things.
“Shh,” he crooned. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
She sagged onto the pillow. Whatever the doctor had given her was powerful. Her brain was filled with haze, but the heat that prickled her body was still winning the fight. Her skin felt tender. Everywhere he touched her burned.
He held a thermometer to her lips. “The doctor wants me to check your temperature. You haven’t cooled down at all.”
Her brain couldn’t sort out his words.
She couldn’t relax. The heat was burning her from the inside out. And the need. It was raging. Not again.
. The power of the desire scared her. There was no build-up this time. It hit her straight on at full force. Delia squeezed her eyes tight, trying to fight the wildness inside her.
What was wrong with her? She never lost control like this. It required too much trust. In
, a man she barely knew, yet whose respect she wanted deeply. How could he respect her if she behaved so outrageously?
“That’s a good girl. Hold it under your tongue. It will only take a moment.”
She groaned. She needed him again. Needed him more than her inhibitions could hide. She tried to remain still, but her hips had a mind of their own. They rocked from side to side, trying to get pressure where she wanted it the most. His hand settled against the small of her back.
“Hold still,” he ordered.
Hold still? It was like asking her not to breathe. She didn’t need a temperature measurement to know her body was on fire. Her hips hitched.
“Delia, stop it,” he hissed. “The doctor is still on the phone.”
The caress of his hand was in direct contrast to the firm tone of his voice. If the touch was meant to soothe, it had precisely the opposite effect. Her fervor cranked up a notch. She didn’t want his touch on her back. She wanted it lower… between her legs… inside her again. She wiggled her hips in distress, and felt his hold on her stiffen. And then start to slide down…
The thermometer beeped, and he jerked his hand away from her. “Damn it, you’re at 103. She’s at 103, Doc.”
Numbers meant nothing. Need did. Delia swung her hips determinedly toward him.
“Fuck,” he said in a low, tight voice.
Yes, fuck. She wanted to fuck.
Drawing her knees to her chest, she lifted her bottom high into the air. She wanted him enough to relinquish control. Enough to put herself into his hands and trust him to take care of her. She wiggled her hips, and his hand clapped onto her butt cheek to stop her. His fingers bit, but she only rubbed up against him harder. Respect her or not, he had to help her. If he didn’t, the fire would rage unrestrained and only cinders would be left.
“Uh, Doc?” His voice cracked. “Are there any side effects of this medication I should know about?”
“What kind? Uh…
Delia grabbed the headboard. The heat was building. “Hurry,” she moaned.
“It’s the fever?” He cleared his throat. “What would you recommend I do?”
There was a long, heavy pause.
“Yeah, I heard you,” he said gruffly. “Are you sure?”
His fingers gentled, almost stroking her, and Delia cried out. Her pussy throbbed, and she felt dampness against her thighs.
He muffled the phone against his shoulder. “Wait ‘til I get off the phone, hot stuff. And hold still!”
How could she hold still when he was touching her the way he was? Her back arched, and she shuddered uncontrollably. “Oooh,” she groaned.
She couldn’t help it. It felt too sinfully good.
His fingers bit into her overheated flesh. “You’re sick, baby,” he hissed. “I’m not going to do this.”
If anything, his fingers dipped deeper into the crevice between her butt cheeks, and Delia’s hips craned higher to meet him. She turned her face on the pillow, and their gazes collided.
A muscle pulsed along his jaw, but he kept his concentration on the phone call. “Right. Keep up with the medication, cold packs, and…ease her distress.” He nodded. “Sorry about the late call, Doc. I’ll keep you updated.”
He dropped the phone noisily into its cradle, and Delia couldn’t wait anymore.
.” It was such a mild word for the fire licking through her veins.
“No,” he said firmly. “Not like this. After you feel better.”
“Don’t leave me like this,” she begged. “The doctor said—“
“I know what the doctor said.”
He rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. It was a habit she’d noticed from him at the office. He only did it when he got stressed, and that wasn’t very often.
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he said.
She knew what felt good and what didn’t. “Please. It’s the only thing that helps.”
He shook his head. “You’d hate me when you snap out of this.”
She rubbed her butt against his hand like a cat begging to be petted. She couldn’t think that far ahead. All that mattered was now. “I’ll hate you if you make me suffer.”
He made a soft sound and looked away.
“I’m suffering,” she whispered.
“Damn it, Delia. That’s not fair.”
His voice was so gruff, it momentarily drew her away from her obsession. Oh God, had she read him that wrong? The possibility made her heart ache. Hesitantly, she glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t you… Don’t you
His gaze flashed to hers. “You know I do.”
“I’m trying to do the right thing here. I’m trying to put you first.” He rolled his shoulders again. “Ah, fuck it!”
“I’ll go to hell for this,” he muttered as he stood and began to tear at his clothes. They fell onto the floor next to hers, and his belt lashed against the wall before dropping with a thud. Delia inhaled deeply when he pushed down his jeans and briefs in one smooth motion.
He wanted her.
For a moment, she hadn’t been sure, and it had scared her more than the fever. Now, she knew for certain, and it excited her even more.
The room wavered about him, but his body was starkly defined by the light still shining from the bed stand. She couldn’t tear her gaze from him. His muscles were sleek and taut. She hadn’t had a clue what lay under those dark suits he wore. Power radiated from his body, yet he’d been so tender with her.