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  Heaven. That was what it would be. Fucking heaven.

  I spread her wide again with my thumbs, looking up while I toyed my tongue along her clit. I stabbed at her tender bud with just the tip, flicking the bundle of nerves until she squirmed and her arms fell to her sides to grip at the blanket. When I bit her clit, she let her head loll back, giving in to the pleasure and pain I brought, moaning loud and long.

  The sound continued pouring out of her as I licked along her thigh to the bite mark I’d just left. When I pressed into the welt with my tongue, she angled her head up to watch. I licked around the bruise, leaving a wet trail, before experimenting with a soft suck in the same spot, watching intently to see how much she could take. Taylor groaned and then shivered, and the tang of her lust thickened the air, giving me encouragement to increase the intensity of my suction. Every time I pulled in harder, I observed her more closely. I watched as her eyes glazed over, her breathing increased, and her chest began to rise and fall. Slowly and steadily, I sucked harder and harder, until the pitch of her moan rose with distress instead of pleasure. Obeying the cue, I moved my mouth back to her succulent pussy, repeating exactly what I’d just done from start to finish.

  By the third or fourth time around the circuit, she was panting hard and bucking against my grip. If my tongue hit her clit again, she’d surely climax—so I made sure it was a damn good detonation by adding a couple of fingers to my effort, burying them deep in her pussy. For the third time today, I reveled in the screaming pleasure of this fascinating, captivating, passionate, powerful woman.

  “Mac!” she shrieked.

  “Hmmm?” I countered.

  “Dear God, stop!”

  “But why?”

  “Because you’re going to kill me. Seriously. Jesus Christ! Fuck.” She gasped for breath as I slid back up and gathered her into my arms, a wide grin on my come-coated lips. I worked them together, savoring the last delicious drops of her incredible taste, before reassuring her. “You’re not going to die, silly girl.”

  “Says Doctor Know-It-All?”

  “Says the man who thinks I’ve never seen a woman look more vibrant or alive.” I caressed some of the hair out of her eyes, “It feels good, right?”

  “Yes. Yes,” she panted. “It feels so good. I…I had no idea it could feel this good, which I’m going to regret admitting now. Just make sure your head still fits through the doorway later on, okay?”

  I rumbled out a chuckle. “Sure. Okay.” But yeah, the humble tone was a bit of an act. I’d made her nearly scream the roof off tonight, times three. Maybe I was the ruler of the fucking universe.

  “Christ. This is ridiculous.” She muttered it into my sternum. “I mean, you’re inhuman.”

  “I’m what?”

  “In the good ways, dork. But shit. Shit. Maybe in the crazy ways too.”

  “Wait. So there’re levels of ‘inhuman’?”

  “You know what I mean,” she scoffed. “And we haven’t even hit home plate yet.”

  Oh, how I wanted to jump on that one—literally. But I forced myself to just hold her for a few long minutes, stroking her hair and enjoying the feel of her in my arms. This would likely be my only chance for all the mushy shit, which would’ve normally been fine, since mush was, by and large, a pretty huge waste of time for me. I mean, the end goal had already been reached, right?

  But with this sassy girl…

  I wanted goals.

  At least more of them than the surety of getting kicked out of here in the morning, with my chances of a repeat slim to none. She had more defenses than a Scottish castle—and I’d purchased a round-trip ticket back to Chicago.

  There’d be time to get morose about all of that tomorrow. Right now—make that about thirty minutes ago—my body needed to be deeply, tightly, inside hers. My cock’s reminder of the fact didn’t make it easy to lay her back on the blanket, but I managed to do so before rising and heading toward my pants, still in a heap against the couch.

  “Mac? Where are you going?”

  “Condom.”

  “Oh.” She cleared her throat. “Right.”

  I paraded over to my pants, the aching erection bobbing in front of me, and grabbed my wallet out of my pocket. By the time I got back to Taylor, I had one of the packages ripped open and the rubber fitted over my length. My need for her was nearly at red-alert status, despite the tight latex. There wasn’t a guy alive who’d say “gee, I love wearing a condom” but I’d never gone bareback a single time in my life, and I wasn’t about to start now.

  With a determined whoosh, I swept back down over the breathtaking lover waiting for me. We kissed but not for long. Like a kid in line at Disneyland, my cock knew the fun was about to get intense.

  “All right,” I murmured, my mouth a few inches above her. “First things first.”

  Taylor smirked. “You mean there are more first things?”

  “One more.” I planted a quick kiss on her. “What’s your favorite position to get fucked in?”

  She choked softly. Her full-moon eyes gobbled my attention up. “Uhhhh…”

  “What?”

  “Why are you so forward?”

  “Why is that forward? I like knowing things about you. Things about how to please you.” I cocked my head. “You like knowing the same about me, right? What makes me feel good? None of that has to be a secret, especially if it brings more pleasure.”

  “When you put it that way, it makes sense,” she admitted. “It just seems like…”

  “Like what?”

  “Well…embarrassing stuff.”

  She made me chuckle. “Embarrassing? I just had my tongue in very intimate places, and now you’re embarrassed by me asking about good positions in the traditional sense? That’s a little backward, don’t you think?”

  She smacked my chest. “For the record, I think you can just stick your dick in me and wiggle around a little bit. You’ve proven that no matter what you do, it’s amazing.”

  I narrowed my gaze. Asked with taunting softness, “Did you just smack me again?”

  Her mouth popped open, and I almost expected a protest to fall out. Instead she blurted, “Yeah. Okay. I did, but no more crazy-kinky-amazing clown stuff tonight, okay? Damn it, Mac, you know you could tie your dong in a knot and my pussy would give you three more orgasms as a welcome party, but right now, I just need you to straight-up fuck me. Please, please, just fuck me.”

  It didn’t take me long to decide on an answer to that. “Crazy-kinky-amazing, huh?” I drawled while sliding my cock through her slit a few times, getting my tip wet. “How amazing? Like, all four times?”

  Her eyes rolled back in her head as I pushed in an inch or two. Nevertheless, she rebutted, “You mean three times?”

  “I mean four. Earlier counts too. Say it.” I pressed in farther, making her moan again.

  “Yes. Yes, all right. Earlier counts too. Now move, goddamn it.”

  She dug her nails into my ass cheeks, making me hiss. I loved feeling pain as much as causing it, but she didn’t need to know that. Still, the tiny bite from her ruthless nails ignited a chain reaction through my body—a fucking good one. I started pounding her wildly, taking full advantage of her loosened hips, pliable pussy, and willing libido. She was flexible and flushed, spreading wider to get me deeper, until I began bottoming out against her ass on each downstroke. Her corresponding moans told me she liked receiving that brutality as much as I liked giving it, and I thanked every saint I knew in heaven for her open, generous passion.

  I ground deeper. Harder.

  She gasped faster. Heavier.

  I succumbed to the fantasy being dictated to my brain, hiking one of her legs up to my shoulder. The other, I left flat on the floor, forming a capital L with her body—and a deeper junction of her pussy.

  “Christ, you feel good. I’m so deep inside you. Can you feel me?”

  “Yes. Yes. It feels…so damn good.” Again, each word was practically a mindless pant, pushed out thr
ough the haze of passion that I saw blanketing her like enchanted mist.

  “You going to come again?”

  Despite how her nipples sharpened into erect points, she nervously wet her lips. “I’m—I’m not—not sure…”

  “Wrong answer.” I gave the raised half of her ass a fast swat from underneath. “You’re going to come again, sassy. Just for me. Put your fingers on your clit and rub. Let me watch you get off while my dick fucks you.”

  She reached between her stretched legs and fingered her swollen nub. “God, it’s so sensitive.”

  “Yeah, it is.” I murmured the words as praise. “That’s my good girl.” I turned my head, kissing the inside of her knee. At the same time, I slid my hand down her thigh, once more working my thumb into the darkest part of the bruise from my love bite there.

  “Oh, my God.” As she stroked herself faster, a look of abject confusion possessed her face. “What the hell? How do you do that to me?”

  “Don’t fight it, love.” I pressed in over her, damn near giving it as command. “If it feels good, embrace it. Let me push you, Taylor. Let me take you to new places—and then let me watch you ride those highs.” I lay over her and kissed up her neck, alternating kisses and bites, more careful now not to mark her where it would be seen above clothing lines. When I got to her ear, I whispered, “Ride it out, sass—and then come all over my cock. This time, I’m coming with you. Let’s do it together, love. Feel me explode deep inside you.”

  She detonated again, at the moment I sank my teeth into her earlobe. She climaxed hard, squeezing my cock so tightly my own orgasm was launched into motion too. Spasms pulsed through my balls and up my shaft. Heaven. Dear fuck…

  The same words tumbled off my lips as I jerked and twitched before going completely still, enjoying the feeling of my body emptying into hers—in theory, at least. The condom held steady while I enjoyed the final tremors of my release and our breathing evened out. A minute or two passed, and I couldn’t hold my weight off her any longer, so I slid out and rolled to the side, reaching down to remove the condom and tie it off. I’d get rid of it later, when I wasn’t completely spent—and damn, after this long and insane day, I was spent. The only concept even half-tempting my dregs of energy would be if Miss Sass wanted a fifth climax. Saying no just wouldn’t be an option.

  If the woman asked for an exact count on the sand grains in Mission Beach, no wouldn’t be an option.

  But she didn’t have to know that.

  At least not right now.

  She scooted back against me, not asking for the fifth screamer or the sand count, thank God, simply sighing with contentment as I wrapped one of the blankets over us. I grabbed the throw and spread it out too, not knowing how cold she got overnight. The woman’s body fat was probably in the negatives, meaning she had zero insulation. I would happily do my best to keep her warm through the night tonight.

  And any other night she would allow me to.

  A thought that should have had me running for the hills. Quickly.

  Instead, I pulled her closer, burying my nose in her sweet blond hair and falling asleep with the dumbest grin on my face—and the warmest feeling in my heart.

  Yeah, goddamn it, my heart.

  A feeling I hadn’t had in a very long time. Not since the day I’d saved my first patient in residency.

  In short, a moment I wouldn’t soon forget.

  And a woman I’d always remember.

  Chapter Eight

  Mac

  “Flight 1713 with nonstop service to Chicago is now boarding through gate C-16. We invite our first-class passengers, any Elite Gold Reward members, and any active duty military passengers to please make your way to gate C-16.”

  The flight attendant’s saccharine-sweet voice traveled around the seating area of the terminal. People started gathering the things they had taken out while waiting for our plane to board.

  The last fucking thing I wanted to do was make my way to gate C-16.

  I wanted to still be in Taylor Mathews’ bed—or rather, on her goddamn living room floor, even with its warped floorboards that caused the worst muscle spasm my lower back had ever known, and its weird smells that had backed up my sinuses like the Hoover Dam, and—

  Christ.

  Even the laundry list of low-rent craptastic wasn’t going to help. I’d take the three-ring germ circus again in half a heartbeat if it meant spending one more night there. Even one more hour with her all to myself, filling my hands with her china-doll skin, lashing my mind with her nonstop word whips, making every minute better than the one that came before it, with her verve and force and life…

  Life.

  That fucker was not my friend right now. He—she?—was a sadist, and not in any good ways. What the hell had I done to deserve the punishment? Finally, someone as perfect as that woman had stumbled into my life, and I’d had to leave her in a rumpled mess on that eighties shag floor, after every effort to rouse her for one last fuck had been made in vain. I smirked at the memory, knowing damn well she’d just been playing me, but that hour of “adamant persuasion” had been just as much fun as if she’d actually given in…

  Okay, maybe not as fun.

  Around two o’clock this morning, while watching her sleep in my arms—because again with the weird mush affliction—I’d decided I would accept the job at Scripps. Not just because of the moonlight on her skin and the night breeze in her hair—though those didn’t suck—but because of the “life picture” thing as a whole. Chicago just didn’t hold the appeal it once had and I was ready to make a fresh start. The Scripps position also held new challenges. The Neurology Department head was looking to retire early, meaning the promise of advancement shone on the near horizon.

  And yeah…

  Mother was a major factor too.

  I’d had some time to mull about the conversation I’d overheard between Claire and Killian. The more I did, the deeper I realized how often my mother had interfered with my life—and how many times I’d let her. That truth wasn’t comfortable to face. At all.

  It was time to cut those strings. Emotionally and physically. All right, so they weren’t whopping Oedipus-style ropes, but strings were still strings, boundaries were boundaries, and it seemed my mom wasn’t humanly capable of respecting the guidelines on both that I’d tried setting between us. Now, maybe putting miles between us was a better idea. A clearer shot across her proverbial bow.

  My stepfather was a nonissue in the decision-making process. Mother had remarried three times in my life so far, and I wasn’t convinced this one would stick either. Constance Stone was a difficult woman to live with, and I’d never blamed any of my “daddies” when they’d eventually tapped out.

  And what about my biological father? He’d been smart and opted out very early, sometime between my second and third birthdays. My mother only ever had negative things to say about him, which hadn’t deterred my quest to reach out to him right after I turned eighteen, craving a relationship with him on my own. Nothing had ever reached relationship status, though, resulting in a few years of mutually lame attempts to make something out of nothing. We’d had a few forced outings, with awkward conversations about things neither of us was interested in. Finally, we’d both stopped calling, probably coming to the same conclusion. Just because we shared DNA didn’t mean we had to be pals. Once in a while, I still received an email or card from him, but I knew his health was flagging so it wouldn’t be much longer before I heard of his passing.

  I resigned myself to boarding the damn plane. I got to my seat and didn’t bother taking out a book or my smart pad to keep me busy, hoping I’d fall asleep after we took off. I’d gotten less than an hour overnight, having deemed it impossible to indulge in sleep when watching over Taylor.

  Memorizing Taylor…

  It’d be a while—perhaps longer—until I saw her again. I shoved aside the pang of the thought through my system, plugging my logic into a potential exit plan from Memorial. Of course, I’
d await the offer from Scripps before submitting my resignation in Chicago but imagined the process would be straightforward. Nobody at Memorial would be ordering cake and streamers for my last day, unless they all couldn’t contain their excitement about the asshole finally getting out of Dodge. I’d also need to put the condo up for sale, pack the place up, and decide what to do with my cars. Fortunately, it wouldn’t all have to be handled before I moved, which was once more a cart-before-the-horse situation. But I’d sent my letter of interest to Scripps from the airport, and hopefully their offer letter wouldn’t be long in return. My terms had been fair, and their need was fairly urgent. Luck—which was really only opportunity meeting preparedness—was on my side.

  And that was the moment Lady Luck made me eat my words.

  Right before she abandoned me, to the seat mate who dropped her oversize bag into the empty middle seat between us while struggling to wrestle her enormous carry-on into the overhead bin. How the woman had wheeled the huge thing past the gate agent was the morning’s biggest mystery, but I started running a secret odds pool with myself about whether she’d fit it or not. Hey, it killed time—and kept my mind away from the ping-pong game…

  Or not.

  Most standard overhead compartment bins accommodated bags no more than forty-five combined linear inches. That was about as big as the “foyer” in Taylor’s apartment. So technically, if one took out the dividers between a bunch of those bins, I could stretch out up there, next to my firecracker, and we could spend the flight—

  Holy fuck.

  The ping-pongs had turned into grenades.

  And she’s not your goddamn firecracker, asshole.

  Completing the buzz kill was elephant-bag woman, who miraculously won the struggle with the bin though screwed anyone else who planned on using those forty-five linear inches for themselves. When she was done, she looked down at me and wheezed, “I’m actually the middle seat, but maybe no one will come and we can spread out a bit.” She finished with a smile, ensuring that the only thing I’d notice about her now was the red lipstick clinging to her teeth.