The Doctor's Damsel (Men of the Capital Book 3) (8 page)

“I got tired of staring at the door, waiting for it to be broken down by a monster. I dragged the mattress into my sister’s studio. She’s a sound engineer. This was her place.”

“Lead the way,” Abe said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Becca tugged on his hand, glancing back over her shoulder as she pulled him into the soundproof studio and shut the door.

“This place is a little freaky,” he observed, his gaze encompassing the recording equipment, the foam-covered soundproofed walls, the mattress up against the wall and the assortment of sex toys on the bed. Becca took one look at his alarmed expression and started to laugh.

“Note the gift bags and ribbon. I was getting stuff ready for the bachelorette party. Not luring you to my torture dungeon where
no one will hear you scream
.”

Becca giggled, scooping the variety of novelties into one of the gift bags and dumping it on the floor. She stepped out of her cowboy boots and dropped the hat onto the soundboard to avoid crushing it. There weren’t exactly loads of floor space with the mattress in there. When he didn’t provide any instructions, she started out the way Chris had always told her to. She inched the undershirt up over her flat stomach, her hips rolling in a coy little striptease bump as she slowly slid the shirt up and over her head. Abe shook his head and reached for her again. He’d been standing near the door uncomfortably, but the sight of Becca removing her clothing had spurred him into action.

“I thought you were interested,” she said hesitantly, a little embarrassed. She was too pushy, always had been, she knew that.

“I’m more than interested. But you’re not here to put on a show for me. We’re in this together,” he said against her ear.

He kissed Becca just beneath her earlobe, as he’d wanted to since the day at the coffee shop. She drew back a little, confused. She was used to serving, to pleasing the man she was with. She’d never been with a man who didn’t want her to do all the work, set the scene and provide the enthusiasm. She wasn’t familiar with working together, being a partner. Chris had always wanted her to take off all her clothes so he didn’t have to remove them himself, had wanted her to tell him how amazing he was, how powerful and sexy and irresistible. She felt off balance with Abe.

“I—don’t know how to do this,” she admitted.

“What?” he asked, eyebrows going up.

“Have sex without being—directed.”

“Directed? Like by your director? I’m not in the theater, you know that.”

“I don’t know what you like, what you expect me to do,” she clarified. Abe pulled her into his arms, but instead of guiding her or ravishing her, he hugged her and she felt the laugh building in his chest.

“God, Bec, just be you. What more could any man want?”

He framed her face with his hands and kissed her, nibbling softly at her lips until he felt the tension leave her. He couldn’t imagine why someone who looked like Becca would be nervous at all. Clearly she’d slept with some bossy morons she was well shot of. He saw this as an opportunity to show her a good time. Frankly, when he saw her in the cowboy hat, he was done for.

“Abe,” she said, his hand brushing against her bare stomach and sending a bolt of desire through her.

“Yes,” he said, dipping his head and kissing along her shoulder, her collarbone, lifting her bra strap and sliding it down her arm.

“I want to know what you like,” she said, still uncertain.

“I think I told you a while back that despite all expectations, I like
you
. There’s really nothing you’re going to do that I won’t like. Trust me.”

Abe thought he had reassured her enough, but she was still unsure of him. He pressed her back onto the bed, coming down over her, and leaned his forehead against hers. If she was used to a selfish lover, he considered it his privilege to surprise her. Kissing her chin, her cheek, her neck, Abe listened, alert for every hitch in her breathing, every gasp that told him what she liked.

Slowly, he discovered that Becca liked it when he stroked a tight circle below her ear with his thumb while he kissed her mouth; she liked soft, deep kisses and the pressure of his thigh between her legs. She pushed her hands up inside his shirt, gripping his lean back as he moved over her. Abe unbuttoned her cutoffs and worked them down over her hips, stripping them off of her. Taking his cue, she unfastened his jeans and pushed them down, letting him kick them away.

Instead of tearing her panties off and getting down to business as she expected him to, Abe kissed her mouth slowly, softly as his hands cupped her breasts, rubbing her nipples until they pebbled hard beneath his fingers. She gave a small gasp, then another, louder one. She moaned loudly with abandon and he stopped what he was doing to laugh.

“Really, Bec?” he asked. “You don’t have to play it up for my benefit. I can tell you’re faking. It’s too fast, too theatrical.”

“I’m an actress. I’m theatrical. Learn to deal,” she grouched, scooting away from him. “Besides, what do you care if I fake?”

“I have no interest in being the only one who enjoys the activity.” He pulled her to a sitting position and kissed her forehead. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not into it.”

She gaped at him. “You’re stopping?”

“If you want to, yeah. Why is that so shocking?”

“It’s just—I don’t know,” she said uncomfortably.

“Not to go all afterschool special on you, but did someone rape you or something?” He asked awkwardly. He had treated assault victims in the ER countless times. This was different, and he was hoping hard that she’d say no, that it hadn’t happened to her.

“Not really.”

“Not really? There’s no gray area there, Bec. Either someone forced himself on you or he didn’t. Which is it?” he asked brusquely, bracing himself for the answer.

“If it’s yes or no only, then it’s no,” she said decisively. “There was a guy, an agent I went out with a few times when I was trying to get into acting right after I dropped out of college. It’s the reason I don’t have an agent, actually. Because when I said no, he said he’d make sure I never found representation. I believed him because I was, I guess, stupid and so I went ahead and sort of caved to the pressure. He still wouldn’t represent me, said I wasn’t good enough and I’d never amount to anything. If you think about it, he was probably right. Anyway, I never even spoke to another agent after him.”

“Aw, shit, Becca—the guy used coercion on you and probably some degree of force. What was he, twice your age? Not that it matters. I mean, a predator is a predator regardless of age, but Christ, didn’t you tell anyone?” he snapped, raking his hand through his hair.

“I was ashamed of myself for giving in to him, for letting him pressure me. For not being good enough. I don’t know. It isn’t something I’ve ever talked about before. And you’re basically making me wish I hadn’t mentioned it,” she admitted, her voice small.

Abe practically tackled her, scooping her into his arms and holding her in his lap.

“You listen to me, Becca. We’re not doing anything you don’t want. Ever. Now tell me what you want to do now. We can go out for frozen yogurt. We can play Scrabble. We can make love. We can go for a walk. Your choice,” he said.

His voice was steady, his dark blue eyes as noble, as honorable as any knight in any fairy tale she could name. When she opened her mouth to answer, a sob escaped and she dropped her head to his shoulder for a second to collect herself.

“I don’t want frozen yogurt. I suck at Scrabble. I’m a terrible speller, plus I’d use my phone to cheat.”

“How about a walk?”

“No thanks. There’s something I’d rather do,” Becca said, suddenly overwhelmingly too shy to say it.

So he kissed her to let her know it was okay. Becca was sometimes brash, sometimes demure, but always, always his. Even as he thought it, Abe winced at the truth of it.

Becca pulled him down on the bed so they were side by side. She brushed his hair back from his forehead.

“You need a haircut,” she told him with impossible tenderness in her voice, and kissed his forehead.

“The only thing I need right now is you.” He answered. She closed the inches between them with a kiss.

Becca took his hand in hers and pressed it against her panties, using his fingers to rub, to stroke. He pushed her panties aside and touched her softly, his fingers gentle in her slick folds. He kept kissing her mouth, one long finger curling inside of her.

He felt her jerk and shudder, her flesh tightening around his hand until she screamed his name. Abe pulled her into his arms and held her until her heartbeat slowed to a more regular pace. She dragged his shirt off of him urgently, trying to pull him on top of her. Her legs parted for him. He shook his head and pulled her into his lap so she could set the pace. She braced her palms against the wall on either side of his head and lowered herself onto him, pushing his pulsing length inside of her.

“Yes,” she whispered against his mouth, eyes wide with surprise.

Becca braced her hands on the wall for leverage and started to move against him. Their hips ground together, finding their rhythm easily.

She gasped “yes” at every thrust, her cries growing louder and louder. She shouted his name at the moment of crisis, her hair falling over them both as they kissed. He pumped inside of her, holding her so close he could feel her heartbeat against his chest, kissing her, saying things he hadn’t meant to say aloud. Fortunately, she was screaming so loudly that it was unlikely she had registered any of the promises he’d blurted out, any of the true things he’d rather she didn’t know.

Abe rolled her onto her back and kissed her languorously, his hand trailing along her side and enjoying the shiver that ran through her at his touch.

“I think I need something out of that bag,” he said, his mouth curving into a wicked smile. He reached over the side of the bed and brought up the feathered riding crop, the one he’d used to send such a jolt through her in the coffee shop. She got a lump in her throat just thinking about that touch.

Abe ran the length of the crop up her leg from ankle to hip, very lightly, dragging it across her stomach and teasing one nipple with the feather. He caught her hands in one of his and pushed them up over her head, pinning them there loosely enough that if she didn’t want to play, she could get free. But Becca definitely wanted to play. She was shuddering with desire as he flicked the feathered crop across her chest and down her stomach, the feather barely brushing her sensitive skin.

“Oh, Abe!” Becca cried out, pushing the feathered crop away and reaching for him, wanting him again, her heated flesh pulsing for him already. “Abe!” she cried again as she wound her arms around his neck, his hands seeking the spot that would make her shatter again. “Please—” she broke off, climbing into his lap, his hand between her thighs as she kissed his mouth.

Within seconds, her response to his insistent stroking thundered through her body and she screamed, her head thrown back with abandon. Together, they sank back onto the bed and he drew the sheet up over them both, gathering her into his arms like something precious.

Becca started crying. She couldn’t help herself. The tears wouldn’t be held back. Abe had been so kind, so patient with her and then touched her so intimately, shaking her to the very core. She had never experienced pleasure like this with anyone else and it was all she could do to stifle her sobs. Abe stroked her hair back from her temple and kissed her forehead.

“I’m sorry,” she said shakily. “I guess I’m just overwhelmed.”

“It’s a common reaction. I’m just that good.” He joked.

She giggled, kissing him. “Yeah, it’s your skills, egomaniac,” she teased him, snuggling into his arms. “I love you, Abe. I just think you should know that,” Becca said bravely, kissing him once on the mouth for emphasis. She nestled back against his shoulder, drifting off to sleep with tears still damp on her face.

What he thought was,
oh crap
. Sure, Abe thought she was adorable, smart, challenging, and almost impossibly sweet. That didn’t mean he wanted a lifetime commitment, and it sure as hell didn’t mean that he wanted her to set him up as a hero. He’d done everything he could to keep her from investing in him emotionally.

He’d told her he was a workaholic, that he didn’t have much time for a personal life, that his relationship with his family was complicated (well, maybe he’d left that part out). If she insisted on loving him anyway, it was going to get ugly. Soon she’d expect him to remember little inconsequential anniversaries and what her favorite flower was and show up for her aunt’s birthday dinner and all the other trappings of a relationship. Those were really nothing more than a snare, another way to capture a man and set him up to be a major disappointment. Abe knew he was bound to disappoint her—he’d successfully frustrated and upset everyone who’d ever cared about him before.

He loved her sleeping face, the droop of her lower lip that was almost a pout, the peaceful way she just gave herself up to sleep in his arms,. He’d been humbled by the way she confided in him about that agent. Even now, probably seven years after it had happened, nothing would give Abe more satisfaction than to track the guy down and beat him within an inch of his contemptible life. Maybe, he thought wildly, he could stick that agent in a room with Deonte Richmond’s father and let them tear each other apart.

Rage flooded him at the thought of some creep forcing himself on Becca, on
his
Becca who believed the best of everyone. Abe felt feral, compelled. He wanted to protect her from everything, even himself and his losing Sisyphean battle to save his patients and dodge his family. The weight of her head on his shoulder was too much for him. He couldn’t take this on; take on the burden of a woman who needed him. He knew he’d let her down, just as he’d disappointed his family, failed Deonte, Jr. and every other patient he’d let go home with their abusers. She deserved better than him, and she’d have to learn it the hard way.

He slid out from under her arm, eased her head onto the pillow and kissed her temple with a tinge of regret.