Every Breath You Take (The Every Breath Duet Book 1) Page 10

  “Mmm,” he hummed, his brows rising, his eyes glimmering. “Favorite doctor?”

  “Yup.” I made sure to pop the P.

  Growling, he bent to steal another kiss, this time showing no shame in the public display of affection. The idea that Bryce had pride in being seen with me only fueled my desire for him that much more. I got lost in our moment, enjoying it a little too much perhaps, only to pull away breathless and wanting more.

  “You’re really spoiling me.”

  He shook his head and winked. “Nah, I’m just getting started.”

  I liked the sound of that. Actually, I loved the sound of that.

  At that, his pager went off. Bryce checked the call and then pressed his soft lips to the tip of my nose. “I have to go.”

  “Ugh. Saving lives is so demanding.” I rolled my eyes with a giggle.

  He caressed my cheek and then retreated. “I’ll call you later.”

  I watched him disappear down the hallway and around the bend with a long-sought-after spasm of joy jolting my heart. Leaning against the wall for balance, I clutched my chest and said a silent prayer to whomever it was that put Doctor Bryce Owen in my path.

  I had this bewildering belief that he was sent to save us. I laughed to myself, pondering the irony. He could very well be responsible for reviving the vital organs of two Monroe women: my mother’s dying kidneys and my own damaged heart.

  I’D NEVER INVITED a guy over for dinner before. Yes, I cooked often. Almost every night, in fact. But the meals I prepared for Hunter while we were married didn’t count. Those were obligatory wifely duties. Tonight was different. A little weird, too. My insides were an anxious jumble of butterflies and nerves and . . . I really hoped everything turned out perfectly.

  I was by no means a chef, but I knew my way around a kitchen well enough. To make things easy, I decided on an All-American meal of steak, rosemary potatoes, and a colorful mix of roasted vegetables. Even the worst cooks couldn’t screw that up so I was confident in the menu choice, at least.

  I called out to my Echo to play some tunes as I set to chopping a zucchini. The tiny speaker blared with an upbeat favorite that begged me to sing along. I belted out a few of the lyrics I knew—or thought I knew—and swayed my hips, letting loose. For the first time in a long time, a sense of freedom washed over me. The chains of worry and sadness were no longer bolted around me in a vice-like grip. They were finally slackening. Of course, I knew better than to allow this sliver of reprieve to feed me false hope, but I didn’t feel inundated with guilt anymore when an unexpected moment of happiness snuck up on me. Instead, I savored it.

  Content with myself, I butchered the rest of the words to “Take Your Time” by Vance Joy, manipulating my curves as I danced and chopped. In the long white Bohemian dress, I even felt sexy. I had Bryce to thank for providing me with that sort of confidence again. I had him to thank for giving me so much in a time when I felt I was lacking at every corner. That was the point of this dinner, after all. To show my gratitude. To let him in.

  Should I let him in?

  An intense stab of pleasure pulsated within, teasing my lips and traveling down to my core, a ghosted whisper of what was to come. He’d told me—no, warned me—to wait, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to anymore. It had been so long since I last felt the strong hands of a man on my body; I wanted Bryce to be the one to fill that void. I wanted him to take me, to make me his. I was ready.

  The room grew hotter, the rhythm of my heartbeat quickened, and a sheen of perspiration prickled my skin with the erotic image of Bryce and me together. I took a break from chopping to lift my hair off my neck.

  “Smells delicious in here!”

  I whipped around at the sound of Sam’s voice, my hands flying back down to the cutting board. I inhaled a calming breath and prayed the embarrassment of getting away with my fantasies was not evident on my heated cheeks. “Jesus Christ! Does anyone knock anymore?”

  “You could lock it.” Sam stifled the makings of what would be a maniacal laugh and raised his hands to shield his face. “I’m sorry I freaked you out, I just wanted to check on you before your ‘big date.’” He air-quoted the words. It was impossible to miss the mockery in his tone.

  I knew he was only playing with me, so I rolled my eyes and scooped up a handful of zucchini, transferring it to the baking sheet. “It’s like you never left, Goodwin.”

  “Uh oh, she’s using my last name. Tired of me already?” He popped a mozzarella ball into his mouth, creating a visible dent in the appetizer platter I’d prepared so carefully.

  “Would you . . . Now look what you did!” I shooed him away and snatched the platter out of his reach.

  “Someone wants to impress a certain doctor,” he sang, sidling closer. “I know they say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, but shit, London . . .” He paused, taking a step back and eyeing me from head to toe. He studied my hair and make-up, his green irises worshipping me. Then his appreciative gaze journeyed downward, a grin curling up one side of his mouth as he regarded my outfit. “You look gorgeous.”

  “Why, thank you.” I bowed my head. A familiar warmth crept over the exposed skin of my chest and shoulders, finding a home at my cheeks.

  Sam had always complimented me—he was a good wingman like that—but there was something different about the way his eyes obsessed over me tonight. He was right. I was trying to impress Bryce, and if I had this effect on Sam, I was certain I’d done my job.

  “Do you need help with anything?” He still hadn’t taken his eyes off me.

  I shook my head and tucked my hair behind my ear. “No, I have it covered.” I looked over to the cuckoo clock and blanched. He has to go . . . now. “Listen, I appreciate you coming over, but you should probably go before Bryce gets here. We don’t need a repeat of yesterday morning.”

  “Why? Did he say something?” Sam’s entire demeanor shifted. His posture straightened and his eyes lost their luster.

  “No. Of course not.”

  “London, don’t mess with me. Did he say something? Because if he did, I’m gonna park my ass at that kitchen table and wait for him to show up. Make it known I’m not going anywhere and he better get used to it.”

  This again? “Your sudden need to play daddy has to stop.”

  The combination of waggling brows and a mischievous grin was an adorable look on my best friend. “I’ll play daddy with you all night if you want.”

  “I’m serious.” The uncontrollable giggles might have proven otherwise, but I threw a wadded dishtowel at his face. “Go. Please?” It was a desperate whimper.

  He inched closer still, his body heat and manly scent permeating the small space between us. “Ask nicely and I’ll think about it.”

  I would do just about anything to get him out of this kitchen before Bryce arrived. Hell, I’d even kiss him if he dangled the threat in front of me.

  Where the hell did that come from?

  It was desperately obvious I had sex on the brain. Could you blame me? I was deprived. And if I didn’t get Sam out of here now, who knew the extent of Bryce’s withholding powers.

  “Pretty please?” I begged, steepling my hands in prayer with an innocent pout.

  Sam released a sound I couldn’t quite interpret—half growl, half moan, laced with amusement. He let out a heavy huff that deflated his posture. “Fine, but I’m right next door if you need me, okay?”

  There’s my favorite wingman. I gifted him with a genuine smile. I hadn’t heard that from him in years. I’m right next door if you need me. I missed knowing he was within reach, only a few feet away. I loved having that back. “I know, and thank you.”

  A sweet beat of familiarity passed between us. Then he leaned in and kissed my cheek, only to back away with a playful wink as he walked out of the kitchen and through the front door.

  Once he was gone, a sigh of relief resounded over the music that still filtered through the speaker. I couldn’t admit it without getting an earf
ul from Sam but truth be told, I wasn’t sure how Bryce would’ve reacted if he walked in to find Sam lingering.

  Sam was my best friend and now he was home. If anything came of Bryce and me, he would have to get used to that. They would both have to get used to it, to sharing me. Sam and Hunter had it down pat. These two would figure it out, too.

  I saw the tension in Bryce’s jaw, the shadow of unspoken jealousy in his eyes whenever Sam came in close contact with me. Bryce had no claim on me. If anything, Sam had more of an entitlement because of our history, but I had to imagine this sort of behavior was normal between most men. And I chose to see the positive in it.

  If Bryce was envious of my relationship with Sam, it meant he liked me and wanted me for himself. If Sam was suspicious of Bryce’s jealousy, that meant he was being protective of his best friend.

  Either way, knowing both men cared about me in some way or another felt pretty damn good.

  Bryce showed up at my doorstep not five minutes later. I had just thrown the seasoned steaks into the broiler when the doorbell rang.

  Ah, finally! No heart attack for a change.

  Wiping my hands on a dishtowel, I scurried out of the kitchen. A rush of blood surged through my veins, electrifying me. “Coming,” I called before making a stop at the mirror in the dining room to check my appearance.

  Smack the lips, bat the eyes, smile and look pretty.

  Everything was still in place, my highlighted hair framing a naturally made up face that complimented the dark hue of my brown eyes. I took a deep breath, gave myself a nod of approval, and headed for my imminent destiny.

  The door swung open and our eyes locked. I was instantly spellbound. Time died a quick death on that doorstep as we took each other in, seconds falling off into space with every blink of my awestruck eyes. I could tell it was a mutual feeling because Bryce seemed taken aback too, his expression teeming with satisfaction. “Wow. You’re . . . stunning.”

  I smiled widely in an attempt to keep my jaw from dropping at the sight of him. “Thank you. You look great, too. I like your hair.” It was trimmed and styled differently but the change wasn’t too drastic. The trendy, tapered-on-the-sides, longer-on-top look suited him perfectly, adding to his flawless, well-kempt appearance. I would miss the feel of his shaggier waves beneath my fingers, but damn . . . this would do just fine.

  “This is for you.” He extended a bottle of champagne in my direction.

  I took it and snapped out of my haze, realizing I had yet to invite him in. I erupted in nervous giggles and bit my bottom lip to keep them at bay. “Come inside, unless you want me to pop the cork right here.”

  “Here’s fine, but dinner does smell amazing.”

  “Crap! The steak! I have to turn it before it burns.” With the bottle in my grasp, I whizzed through the house and into the kitchen. “Just lock the door behind you,” I called out. I didn’t need Sam barging in again, unannounced. Alone time with Bryce was at the tippy top of my most coveted desires. I couldn’t care less about the dinner sizzling in the oven.

  But that’s why I asked him over in the first place. Dinner first, dessert later. Only I hoped the decadent course would be served and enjoyed upstairs in bed rather than at the dining room table set with my great-grandmother’s fine China.

  Bryce crept up behind me and joined me at the counter. “Anything I can do to help?” He caressed my arms, pulling me against him, his nose rooting around my hair with deep inhalations.

  I leaned back into his embrace, enjoying the way his hands felt against my bare skin. Soft yet firm. Foreign yet welcome. “Dinner is almost ready, but you can stay right here if you want. I kind of like this.” The admission was bold, especially for me, but I didn’t care. I liked having him here to myself, knowing there was a world of wicked possibilities at our greedy fingertips.

  “Mmm, tempting, but I’m starved.” He whirled me around and without warning his mouth assaulted mine. The hurried motion of his ravenous tongue matched his statement. He was starving, all right. For me. He lapped me up, tasting and nibbling, my lips and tongue a banquet for his senses.

  I should have been nervous, but as the hard edge of the countertop jabbed my ass and Bryce ground against me, my fingers foraged his freshly cut hair and I wished he would alleviate the ache with some much-needed friction. As an invitation, I lifted up on the toes of one foot, bringing the other leg higher to curl around his body. He reacted as I hoped, taking hold of my waist and seating me atop the counter.

  “The food. It’ll burn,” I whispered against his busy lips. I would let it. This was far more urgent.

  But Bryce paused to search the room, his breathing labored. When his eyes landed on a pair of oven mitts next to the sink, he darted over, slipped them on, and made quick work of pulling the perfectly cooked steaks and vegetables from the oven and placing them on the stovetop. Turning off the oven and removing the mitts, he came back to his spot between my legs to continue what I could only think of as a prelude to a perfect evening.

  “Let it cool while we heat things up.”

  I threw my head back to laugh at the corny joke, but he grabbed the back of my neck and crashed our mouths together once more. All levity vanished from the situation. There was nothing remotely funny about the way this man was kissing me. I moaned into his open mouth and drank every last drop of the passion he had to offer. It was limitless, intoxicating. And I was soon drunk on his taste and high off its potency.

  After another minute or two of imbibing on each other, Bryce’s lips moved to my neck, where he nibbled at the sensitive flesh over my collarbone. As he licked my skin, he pinched the fabric that blanketed my knees and pulled my dress up higher. If I wanted to object—and I didn’t—there was barely enough time because his fingers were soon trailing the curve of my inner thighs and then resting patiently over the wet spot that penetrated my panties.

  For a split second I was embarrassed. Maybe even hesitant. But when one deft finger flicked the throbbing bundle of nerves beneath the lace, he sent me bucking forward, my body undoubtedly submitting to his will.

  “You need this. Don’t you?”

  “Uh huh,” I whimpered, placing my hand over his to force more friction against my clit.

  “Good. I need it, too. I need it so fucking bad.” He sucked my bottom lip into his warm mouth as his finger entered me. I hissed in delight, letting my legs fall open even wider. He was slow at first, merely probing the entrance and acclimating our bodies. Then he added a second, propelling deeper, curving upward.

  “Oh, God,” I cried, the pleasure almost too much to take. It had been a year since a man touched me like this. One year too fucking long. I needed more.

  Sensing what I craved, Bryce’s fingers picked up speed. His thumb darted out to rub my clit in vigorous, toe-curling circles.

  Yes. Just like that. This is what I want. What I need. I was going to come on his hand, with my panties still on, right next to our meal. And guess what . . . I didn’t care.

  The fury building inside me drove me to the brink of madness. A madness so blinding, so all-consuming, it was liberating. I arched my chest forward and wrapped my arms around his neck. Licking the seam of his smiling lips, my tongue infiltrated his mouth, mirroring the motion of his fingers. Fast, furious, precise. We were working each other in the most beautiful way possible.

  I felt my belly twinge in preparation for an explosive release. Bryce must have recognized the intensity of my breathing and the acceleration of my heartbeat, because he pulled away from our kiss, removing his fingers as well.

  I clutched the edge of the countertop, a painful emptiness plaguing me. “What are you . . . Why’d you . . . ?” I was a harried mess. Words failed me, my brain floating in and out of consciousness.

  “Don’t worry.” He chuckled. “I’ll let you finish.” Two of his fingers were smeared with my arousal. He brought them to his mouth and sucked them inside. “Mmm. Delicious. Just like I knew you would be. But that was just a taste. Can I
have more?”

  More? Breathless and trembling, I searched his eyes for an explanation.

  His response was wordless but his actions spoke deafening volumes. Dropping to both knees, he hitched my dress up to my belly, peeled my panties down my legs, and plunged his tongue between my folds.

  “Yessss.” It was a long hiss, an answer to his request, followed by a strong grip at the back of his head. I couldn’t stop myself from pulling him closer, urging him to be rough and fast in taking me. His fingers had tortured me, but his tongue was annihilating me. It was everything I expected and so much more. He licked me from front to back and then sucked on my clit until I couldn’t contain it any longer.

  “Bryce!” I shouted. “Oh, God, yes.” My body went stiff and then limp, pumping out the kind of orgasm that left me exhausted and sated at the same time.

  When the last of the undulating waves rolled through me, Bryce wiped his mouth on the inside of my thighs and stood so we were face to face.

  His pupils were large and dark. He cradled my face in his hands and asked, “Does that make you mine?”

  There wasn’t much to think about, so I nodded. I would agree to just about anything in this state. He could have any possession, my blood, my sanity.

  “No.” He chuckled and shook his head, bringing my dress back down to cover me up. “I need to hear it. Are you mine, London?”

  I blinked.

  He reached out to grab my chin.

  Our eyes locked.

  My blood pumped wildly.

  His jaw tensed fiercely.

  What was I waiting for? I knew what I wanted to say. I wanted to say yes. I wanted to be his. What reason did I have to say no? I was a free woman. The grieving was over. My husband was no longer in the picture, and as much as I’d loved Hunter, Bryce was everything he was not. I knew if I let him, he could give me the world. And not just the material things Hunter couldn’t afford, but the security and support I had been missing since long before our actual breakup. And he made me feel good—so fucking good. I’d be an idiot to deny that, to deny him.