Luke (9 page)

It hadn't.

A little off balance, she entered the storage closet, planning on restocking, catching her breath—

But suddenly, Luke was in there with her, crowding into her space, looking at her in a way that made all the thoughts scatter right out of her head.

He took the stack of fresh towels out of her unresisting hands, then with mouth grim and tense, slid his hands to her shoulders and backed her to a wall.

"Wh—what are you doing?"

"What I should have done long before now," he growled, and crushed his mouth down on hers.

Chapter 6

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T
he intense, sizzling heat had been building between them all day. So much so, that having Luke's mouth on hers now, after thinking about it, dreaming about it, made her come just a little undone, just enough that she didn't care that they stood in an open closet, hands grappling for purchase on each other's bodies, the passion growing between them by leaps and bounds.

Then Luke pulled back and stared at her. "What the hell is this?"

"I have no idea…"

Swearing reverently, he came at her again, as if he meant to inhale her.

She let him. Wanted him. "More."

"Yeah." Luke slid his hands down her sides, gripped her hips, pushed her back to a shelving unit, pressing his body along the length of hers. "More."

Again, when they needed air, they pulled back, gasping, staring, then unable to keep apart, lunged at each other yet again. A stack of paper gowns rained over them, then some other supplies, but nothing mattered save this. It was delicious, brain-cell destroying, and she needed more, still more. Shoving him around so she could press
him
against the shelving unit as he had done to her, she raced her hands up his chest, around his neck … fisted them in his hair.

More supplies fell. She didn't care. She'd have crawled up his body if she could, and given the low, rough growl that came from deep in his throat, he felt the same way.

Arching into him, she lifted a leg, tried to wrap it around his hip. He whipped them around again, pressed her hard to the wall. "Yeah. God." Gripping her thigh, he held her open to his slow, purposeful thrust.

Her head thunked back, hit the wall.

He ate at her neck; hot, wet, openmouthed bites that had her whimpering, gasping for more but neither of them spoke, words weren't necessary. Nothing was necessary except this, not even air.

Obeying the vicious need, she simply melted into him as he continued to ravage, a long, deep, wet, devouring kiss that cloaked them in intimacy, in desperate, hungry desire. She kissed him back the same way, giving everything she had, her mouth open to meet his in a mindless beat out of time, slipping her hands beneath his shirt and over his smooth, sleek back, rippled with tension.

His fingers opened the white lab coat she wore and danced beneath her blouse, over the quivering muscles of her belly, then higher, to just the bottom curves of her breasts.

Her toes curled. Her nipples had long ago hardened into two aching buds. And what was happening between her thighs required the same attention as a five-alarm fire. Arching up into him as much as she could, irresistibly drawn by the slow, sexy forays of his tongue into her mouth, she moaned.

Slow and deliberate, he continued to kiss her, spreading the aching heat in her belly, in her breasts, between her thighs.

But then he drew back, just a fraction of an inch, and chest heaving, stared at her as if he'd never seen her before.

She felt the same way. "I … I'm not sure where that came from."

"Yeah."
He was breathing too hard, so was she, she could hear the air chopping in and out of both their lungs. His hands slid down to curl into her hips, holding her against his rock-hard body.

Her hands were still tangled in his dark, silky hair.

Not an inch separated chest or belly or thighs, as she stood there weaving slightly, flushed with passion and quivering with need.

He looked as shell-shocked as she felt. "I should tell you," he said. "I've been thinking about that for a while now." His voice was rough and scratchy. And so damned sexy she could close her eyes and listen to him for the rest of the day.

Instead, she stared into his light blue eyes and saw more questions than answers. "I thought we figured this for a bad idea."

"Oh, it is. A really, really bad idea." Too bad Luke wasn't thinking with his heart at the moment.

Or even his brain.

It made no sense, no sense at all, why just looking at her made him ache all the time, why the feel of her beneath his hands nearly drove him wild.

Maybe it'd been too long since he'd had sex, but that was just an excuse. It was her, Faith, and horrifying or not, he'd have to face that.

Later. Much, much later.

"Luke…" She licked her lips and made him groan. Stared at his mouth and made his knees weak.

"I know." But he didn't, not really. He didn't have a clue, and he badly needed one.

"Are we going to do that again?"

"No." But he captured her mouth again anyway, because not getting another taste of her, when the first was still driving him out of his living mind, wasn't an option.

Her lips parted with a soft moan, and then her hands moved on his bare, heated flesh. Having her hands on him, hearing her pant softly, helplessly, drove him straight to the edge. He opened his mouth wider, pressing himself into her, letting out a low, rough groan when her fingers dug into his skin as if she needed the grip on her faltering reality. She was so unexpectedly irresistible, so damned fascinating, he couldn't let her go.

It was shocking, how much he needed this, shocking and delicious, and carried the pack of a one-two punch. He hadn't come for this, damn it, he'd come just to do his time. He didn't fully understand this clinic, or the sense of hope it gave to patients he still felt could be better served by conventional medicine, and yet here he was, his mouth and hands fully occupied—

"The door," she said into his mouth. "Luke, the door—"

Unbelievably, it was still open. More unbelievably, no one had caught them. Without breaking their connection, he kicked it closed and backed Faith to it, cradling her face and kissing her until the world receded again, until there was nothing, no one, except this, her.

She pulled her hands out from his shirt. He nearly moaned at the loss but, then she unbuttoned it, spread it open.

He shoved the lab coat off her shoulders, then her blouse.

She bit his bare shoulder.

He cupped her breasts in his hands.

And the world tilted.

"Lust," she gasped, when they next came up for air.

He might as well have just run a marathon for all his ability to breathe. He had a mouthful of her throat, a handful of her perfect breasts and his leg thrust high between hers. "Huh?"

"Lust." She licked her lips, that gesture he found so sexy, and like a helpless slave to the hunger, he thrust his hips against hers.

"It's … just lust," she repeated.

"Are you sure?" Because, shockingly enough, suddenly he wasn't.

"Extremely." She didn't look it though. "We've already decided we're just too different, right? Too busy with our own lives."

He slowly blinked. That's right. Too busy.

"I mean, obviously we have a thing for each other. A chemical thing. I can't seem to take my hands off you, and vice versa—"

At the reminder of where his hands were, cupped over her breasts, his thumbs rasping her nipples, he nearly groaned again. Instead, he slid them down, squeezing her hips now, and when she thrust against him one more time, he dropped his hands even further, to cup her perfectly rounded bottom.

Her eyes were opaque with desire, her voice a little shaky. "I'm thinking we can handle this." She wet her lips. "Lust is just a bodily function, right? Like drinking or going to the bathroom. So … we just deal with it. Then go on our merry way."

"Deal with it." Thinking on his feet had never been more difficult. "So you're saying we should…"

"Well, not here."

He looked around. Right. They were in a storage closet. At the clinic. With patients just down the hall.

Good God.

"But after work…"

He stared down into her still-flushed face. Her hair had rioted. Her blouse was opened and her nipples pressed enticingly against the material of her bra, seriously hampering his ability to put words together. "Are you trying to say we
should
have sex?"

"Just on Saturdays. For the two months you're so honor bound to give me."

He blinked again. "I thought we were going to ignore this."

"Are we ignoring it now?"

No. No they weren't. Of their own accord, his fingers again tightened on her very delectable ass. Ignore her? He had maybe a snowball's chance in hell. "What about after the two months?"

She bit her full lower lip again. "Well … you'd just have to let me go. I'm sorry, Luke, but like we said, we're just too different."

Too different? Right. They were too different.

Any red-blooded man would be laughing in triumph at this unexpected offer, any single man he knew. Hell, any man in the entire free universe.

Did he have this correct? Could he possibly? This gorgeous, sexy, unbelievably hot woman wanted to have sex with him, then after two months of great—and it would be great—sex, just walk away, all without a diamond ring, a white dress, white cake or white picket fence.

Oh yeah, he should be doing the happy dance. But he didn't feel like dancing. "Faith … you deserve more than that."

"It's what I want." She arched, very slightly, letting her extremely tight, hot nipples rub against his chest. "Are you going to turn me down, Luke? Are we going to have to try to work together, all worked up, without any relief?"

The thought made him want to cry. "No. God, no."

She smiled, backed away. "We probably have patients."

"Patients."

"I'll go first. I'll—"

A pounding at the door had them both jumping.

"Faith? Is that you in there?" Shelby called. "We have a patient we want to consult on, room four. You in there?"

"Uh…" Faith's eyes widened on Luke. "Yes. Yes, I'm in here."

"Well, open up." The knob turned, but before it could open, Luke wedged his foot against it.

"Faith? Are you
stuck
in there?"

Faith let out a slow, careful breath, and so did Luke. "Uh … not exactly."

"What are you doing?"

"Well…" Faith grinned at Luke, and right then and there, with his foot blocking the door so that they wouldn't get caught, with his shirt ripped open and hers half off her body as well, he fell a little bit in love.

"Faith?"

"I'll … be out in a minute!"

"Okay…" Shelby's voice went to a low, conspirator's whisper. "Do you have Dr. Walker in there with you?"

Wide-eyed, she stared at Luke. "Uh…"

"Oh my God. You do … okay, you know what? Never mind, I'll figure out the patient situation in room four. You two just … carry on."

Her footsteps moved away and Luke realized Faith was still staring at him, a little hopefully now, and he let out a rough groaning laugh. "No," he whispered. "We're not carrying on, not in this closet."

With a sigh, she started straightening her clothes.

He looked down at himself and tried to figure out if a doctor's coat could possibly cover the biggest erection he'd ever had.

"So, have we come to terms?"

He stopped in the act of tucking in his shirt and looked at her. "Terms?"

"About … you know."

"Sleeping together?"

She shook her head. "Actually, sleeping would be a bad idea."

His head was spinning. "But you just said…"

"Sleeping
implies some sort of relationship, when we both know a relationship between us would never work. In fact," she said earnestly, "sleeping together would only backfire."

"Right. Backfire." And she was right. Hell, she was so right. He'd gotten sidetracked in her glorious body, but the truth was staring him in the face. He didn't want a relationship, and neither did she. So why his hands itched to grab her close again and talk her into exactly that was beyond him.

She finished buttoning herself up—though not correctly—and scooped her hair up off her face, holding it there with some clip she pulled out of her pocket. Immediately, strands of long red hair escaped, making her look like … like she'd just been in the storage closet being ravaged. "I'll see you," she whispered and turned from him to reach for the door.

Let her go.

Instead, he grabbed her and turned her back to him. Reaching out, he fixed the buttons on her blouse. The woman needed a goddamn keeper. Not a job he wanted to apply for. Nope. He was going to walk away. Hell, he was going to run—

She kissed his cheek, sent him a smile that made his heart tumble in his side. "Thanks."

Then she was gone.

Luke stood in that closet for a good long time, until his coat was no longer tented with his obvious hard-on. Until he'd decided that yes, the right thing was to walk out of the closet and right out the front door of the clinic.

So he walked out of the closet.

Walked down the hall.

And then turned right instead of left, and went to see which patients needed his attention.

* * *

That night, Faith sat on her couch staring at the wall. She'd done yoga, had given herself an aromatherapy session and had eaten dinner with Shelby.

None of the normally calming, soothing rituals had soothed her. Nope, she was keyed up, strung tighter than a cheap guitar, and for once it wasn't nerves or anxiety over money or the clinic.

She'd thrown herself at Luke today.

She'd like to blame the heat of the moment, especially with his mouth on hers and his hands … oh goodness, his hands. Things had gotten so fiery so fast in that storage closet, they'd practically singed off any unwanted body hair with the fire they'd generated.

Yeah, blaming the heat of the moment sounded like a good excuse for how shameless she'd been. How else could she explain offering him sex for the next two months?