The Best Of The Year - Medical Romance. Carol Marinelli

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СКАЧАТЬ first. That’s what he’d said.

      As his lips lowered to the top of her right thigh and kissed it, a shudder rolled across her. “That’s not necessary. Let’s just go to bed. I—I want to.”

      “Oh, sweetheart. So do I. More than you can possibly know.” He kissed the inner surface, teeth nipping at the tender flesh. “But I can’t. Not yet.”

      He pushed her legs wider as his lips ventured closer to a very dangerous area. “Intoxicating. Your scent. The taste of your skin.” The words muttered against her sent fire rushing through her veins and anticipation clenching through her stomach. Then he was there, and the shock of his tongue making gentle inroads made her go completely still. She had to prop herself up on her elbows to keep from falling backwards at the rush of sensation as he slid up and around, avoiding that one tiny part that craved his attention more than anything.

      “Please. Jack. Oh, God.”

      He pulled her closer, until everything came into contact with his mouth all at once and her legs draped over his shoulders as he finally gave her what she wanted. Her back arched, and she couldn’t stop herself from using the soles of her feet to push closer to that incredible source of pleasure. He didn’t disappoint, his lips surrounding her and sucking gently—tongue rubbing against her.

      That was all it took. She grabbed a breath and then let go with a loud moan, pumping herself against him as her body flashed red-hot, the lights in the room fading to almost nothing. Again and again her inner walls clamped, finding nothing to grab onto, and yet the ecstasy was still stronger than anything she’d experienced in her life.

      She lay there for a few seconds, mouth open, eyes closed, her lungs snatching for air and still feeling deprived.

      When random thoughts finally started trickling back into her brain, she was stunned. Winded. Unnerved. Then she looked down to find his eyes on her, his mouth still poised between her legs.

      She couldn’t believe she’d let him do that to her. On a hotel-room bar, of all things. But she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.

      “You’re bad,” she said, unable to come up with a more sophisticated expression at the moment. “Very, very bad.”

      He laughed and stood, reaching behind her—to help her down, she thought. She was wrong. Snap went the clasp on her bra, and he eased her upright, removing the garment before he finally gave her a response.

      “Sweetheart, you have no idea just how bad I can be.”

       CHAPTER NINE

      HE SCRABBLED FRANTICALLY at the heavy lid, trying to pry it open. How could she breathe inside there?

       She couldn’t.

       Putting the tips of his fingers beneath the smooth, shiny surface, he put all his force into opening it, breath whistling out through his teeth, muscles shaking with exertion as he strained upwards. His grip failed, hands slipping and throwing him back onto the plush carpet behind him. Soft music played in the background and people milled around, holding plates piled with food.

       Why wasn’t anyone helping him? Couldn’t they see she was trapped?

       He glanced around for something. Anything. His eyes fell on a crowbar that had been tossed up against the wall beside a dainty blue velvet couch. Crawling toward it, he grabbed it with both hands, the weight of it surprising him. He stood to his feet, dragging the metal bar behind him until he was in front of the box once again. The music got louder, and what had been soothing elevator music became a little more sinister in tone. Nothing that he could put his finger on exactly as it seemed to be the same tune.

       Time was running out.

       It was as if everyone else had finally noticed as well. They gathered around him, plates in hand, as he swung the heavy crowbar up, like he would one of those carnival hammers, and somehow got it to hook under the lid. He swallowed, suddenly not so sure about what he was doing. But they were all watching now. Waiting. Including a familiar blonde near the back of the room.

       Where had he seen her before?

       He shrugged and turned back to his task. Taking a deep breath, he silently counted to three.

       One...two...

       Three!

       He put his full weight onto the metal rod, pushing down, down, down, the splintering of wood telling him he was getting somewhere. With a groan the top released and popped up an inch or two before the crowbar fell out of the groove. But no matter, he’d broken whatever seal was holding it closed.

       He dropped the tool beside him and once again placed his fingers beneath the lid and slowly lifted. The sheen of blue satin met his eyes, the color matching that of the sofa behind him. He pushed the top higher and saw the cool white skin of her cheek. Her nose. Her pale lips.

       A shot of horror went through him as he finished opening the top of the box.

       It wasn’t Paula. And she wasn’t sleeping.

       Mira!

      He let go of the lid, and it fell in a series of disjointed frames, like a stack of still shots ruffled with a thumb to form movement. Then it hit the lower half of the box with a craaack!

      Jack jerked, his eyelids flying apart and meeting darkness. Panic swept through him. He reached next to him to see if Paula was still there. His fingers met warm flesh, and he let his head drop back to the pillow in relief.

      Just a dream.

      More thoughts sifted through. Memories of making love. Groaning as he’d touched each silky inch of her body. Trying to hold off the inevitable until it had become too much, and he hadn’t been able to resist pouring himself into her. Holding her until his breathing had slowed.

      He swallowed hard, his head turning to the left. But it hadn’t been Paula.

      It had been Mira last night.

      It was still Mira this morning.

      And he’d enjoyed himself far too much. Had laughed and played the wicked rogue to the very end.

      Hell.

      He threw his arm over his eyes and tried to figure exactly what had happened last night.

      A fling.

      Yes. She’d used that word. So had he, in his head.

      The bed shifted as she moved. Sighed.

      Jack couldn’t resist turning his head again. It was morning, it had to be, but it was still some time before dawn, judging from the darkness that hovered around the edges of the curtains. His adjusting eyes caught the first glimpse of a bare shoulder peeking from beneath the thick duvet cover. Her back was to him, her arm curled up to rest on the pillow beside her face.

      The СКАЧАТЬ