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Defiant Hearts

Page 82

by Em Petrova

He stepped closer, and she sucked in a sharp breath as her bare nipples rubbed against his shirt. “I think”—he dropped the folder onto the nearest surface without a glance—“we should discuss appropriate workplace attire. At length. Multiple times.”

She tossed her head with a laugh and her hair slipped over her shoulders in a silky wave. She looped the stethoscope from around her neck to his and pulled him down by it until only a breath separated their mouths.

“You seem warm. Nurse’s orders,” she murmured. “Full examination. Immediately.”

With a groan, he nibbled her bottom lip and slid his hands over the sexy lines of her waist to settle on her hips.

“I’m very skilled.”

He flashed her a grin. “Are you now? I have absolute…faith…in your…abilities.” He pressed kisses to her lips with every word and finally bent her over his arm and kissed her until they were both shaking for more.

She was his. And he was hers. And he intended to spend the rest of his life showing her just how much he loved her.

Starting now.

* * * * *

She’d planned to seduce him. She hadn’t planned on forgetting her own name.

Wyatt kissed like a man who’d already decided exactly how much pleasure he was about to give her.

Whitley clung to his shoulders as he bent her over his arm, her bare back cradled in his palm, the stethoscope pressed between them. Every brush of his lips undid a little more. Slow, then deep, then slow again, until she couldn’t remember anything before this moment.

So much for being in charge of this seduction.

He straightened, bringing her up with him, and her breasts flattened against his shirt. The cotton was soft and warm and entirely in the way.

“You’re overdressed,” she whispered against his mouth.

“Is that your professional opinion?” His eyes glinted with amusement and more.

“It’s my medical diagnosis.”

His laugh rumbled through his chest and into hers. She loved that sound. In the beginning, he’d been all hard edges and watchful silence. Now he laughed for her all the time.

She tugged his shirt free of his jeans and slid her hands underneath. His stomach muscles jumped under her fingertips. Heat poured off him. She traced the ridges of his abdomen, then dipped her head and pressed her lips to his steely flesh.

His breath left him in a ragged rush. “Whitley.”

She kissed her way across his skin as she pushed his shirt high. “I’m just having a…closer…look.” She dotted kisses along his ribs.

With a growl, he yanked the shirt over his head and tossed it. Then his hands were in her hair, tipping her face up, and his mouth crashed over hers again. Not slow this time.

Hungry. Possessive.

His tongue swept over hers, and she moaned into his mouth.

Ten minutes ago, she’d been nervous her plan to get him into her bed was too much. Now she knew it was exactly right, and she was burning.

He skimmed his hands down her spine, over the curve of her hips and squeezed her bottom. When one fingertip edged low, skimming close to her pussy, she hauled him closer to her. His cock was thick and hard between them.

“Bed,” she breathed.

“Too far.”

He backed her up until her thighs bumped the dresser. In one easy move, he lifted her onto it. She gasped as he stepped between her knees, the denim of his jeans rasping her inner thighs and driving her even crazier.

Instead of stripping off his clothes and taking her right there, he took his time looking at her. Really looking, from her flushed face to her bare toes and back up again. His eyes darkened to the color of a storm rolling over the mountain.