Mercy

  He was simply irresistible.

  She stared at the narrow opening between the zipper, then realized she was staring and forced herself to look away. She settled on his chest, realized that was a mistake, and ended up staring at his feet. He had great feet.

  Oh, boy, did she need help. Now his feet were turning her on. She needed therapy, intense therapy, to help her figure out how any man could make her so nuts.

  He wasn’t just any man, though. All along she’d known how dangerous the attraction was. It was the damned fence, she decided. If he hadn’t bought the damned fence for little John Patrick, she might have been able to continue to resist him. Too late now. She let out a little groan. Theo was still a big jerk, but she’d fallen for him anyway.

  She swallowed hard. He looked good enough to . . . don’t go there. Then she looked into his eyes. She wanted him to scoop her up into his muscular arms, kiss her senseless, and carry her to bed. She wanted him to take her nightgown off and caress every inch of her body. Maybe she would toss him on the bed, take his Levi’s off, and caress every inch of his body. She wanted to —

  “Michelle, what are you doing? It’s two-thirty in the morning.”

  Her fantasy came to a screeching halt. “Your door doesn’t squeak.”

  “What?” he asked.

  She shrugged, then pushed a strand of hair away from her face. “I didn’t hear you because your door didn’t make any noise when you opened it. How long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough to watch you play with your door.”

  “It squeaks.”

  “Yes, I know, the door squeaks.”

  “I’m sorry, Theo. I didn’t mean to disturb you, but since you’re awake . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “You want to play cards?”

  He blinked. Then that slow, easy smile appeared, and she started feeling light-headed.

  “No, I don’t want to play cards. Do you?”

  “Not really.”

  “Then why did you ask?”

  The way he was staring at her with that penetrating gaze of his made her extremely nervous, but it was the good kind of nervous she’d felt just before he’d kissed her the night before, which meant that it was bad, because she’d never wanted the kiss to end, and what kind of convoluted sense did that make? She was losing her mind, all right. She wondered if she could schedule her patient appointments from the psychiatric ward.

  “Please stop looking at me like that.” Her toes curled into the carpet, and she felt her stomach doing back flips.

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know,” she muttered. “I can’t sleep. So do you want to do something until I get sleepy?”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Besides cards?” she asked nervously.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I could fix you a sandwich.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Pancakes,” she said then. “I could fix you pancakes.”

  On a scale of one to ten, her anxiety was climbing past nine. Did he have any idea how much she wanted him? Just don’t think about it. Keep busy. “I make great pancakes.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “What do you mean, you’re not hungry? You’re always hungry.”

  “Not tonight.”

  I’m drowning here, babe. Work with me. She caught her lower lip between her teeth while she frantically tried to come up with another idea.

  “Television,” she suddenly blurted, acting as though she’d just correctly answered the million-dollar question and Regis was handing her the check.

  “What?”

  “Would you like to watch television?”

  “No.” She felt as if he’d just snatched the lifeline out of her hands.

  She sighed. “Then you think of something.”

  “Something we could do together? Until you get sleepy.”

  “Yes.”

  “I want to go to bed.”

  She didn’t try to mask her disappointment. She guessed she was going to go back to counting those damn smelly sheep. “Okay. Good night, then.”

  He didn’t go back into his bedroom, though. Pulling away from the doorway with the agility of a big, lazy, well-fed cat, he closed the distance between them in two long strides. His toes touched hers as he reached behind her and opened her bedroom door. He smelled faintly of aftershave, Dial soap, and man, and she found the combination extremely arousing. Who was she kidding? At this point, a sneeze would turn her on.

  He took hold of her hand, but his grip was light. She could have easily pulled away if she’d wanted to, but she didn’t. In fact, she held tight.

  Then he tugged her into her bedroom. He shut the door, backed her against it, and pinned her there with his arms on either side of her face and his pelvis pressed snugly against her thighs.

  The wood was cool against her back, his skin hot against her belly.

  Burying his face in her hair, he whispered, “God, you smell good.”

  “I thought you wanted to sleep.”

  He kissed the base of her neck. “I never said that.”

  “Yes . . . yes, you did.”

  “No,” he corrected. He was kissing that wonderfully sensitive spot below her ear now, driving her to distraction. Her breath caught in her throat when his teeth gently closed on her earlobe.

  “No?” she whispered.

  “I said I wanted to go to bed. And you said . . .” His hands moved to cup the sides of her face. He looked into her eyes for several long seconds, and then said, “. . . okay.”

  She was a goner and she knew it. His mouth covered hers in a long, hot, passionate kiss that let her know how much he wanted her. Her lips parted, and she felt a jolt of pleasure all the way down to her toes when his tongue went in search of hers. Her arms went around his waist, and then her hands began to stroke and caress him. She could feel the hard muscles under her fingertips, and when her hips began to move restlessly against him, she felt him tremble.

  The kiss went on and on until she was gripping his shoulders and shaking with desire. It was decadent the way he made her feel, and frightening too, because she had never experienced such passion before, never felt this kind of desperation to hold tight and never let go. Oh, how she loved him.

  They were both panting when he lifted his head. He saw the tears glistening in her eyes and went completely still.

  “Michelle. Do you want me to stop?”

  She frantically shook her head. “I’ll die if you do.”

  “We can’t have that,” he said gruffly.

  She tugged on his jeans, trying unsuccessfully to get them past his hips.

  “Slow down, sweetheart. We’ve got all night.”

  And that was the problem. She wanted more than one night. She wanted forever, but she knew that wasn’t possible, and so she decided to take what he offered and cherish the moments they did have. She would love him in a way no other woman could, with her heart, her body, and her soul. And when he left her, he would never be able to forget.

  They shared another long, hot, open-mouth, tongue-thrusting kiss that only made them want more. He pulled away, stepped back, and stripped out of his jeans. Her breath caught in the back of her throat. He was beautiful. And fully aroused. The sight of him overwhelmed her because he was so perfectly sculpted.

  In the moonlight, his skin seemed to glisten like gold. She reached for the straps of her gown, but he stilled her hands. “Let me.”

  He slowly pulled her nightgown up over her head and tossed it on the floor.

  “I’ve had such fantasies about you,” he whispered. “Your body is much better than I imagined. The way you feel pressed against me . . . that’s much better too.”

  “Tell me what we were doing in your fantasy, and I’ll tell you mine.”

  “No,” he whispered. “I’d rather show than tell.”

  His chest hair was tickling her breasts. She liked it so much, she moved against him. She could feel his arou
sal against her and shifted so that her hips cuddled him. It felt so good, so right to be held like this.

  “In one of my fantasies, I do this.”

  He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. He followed her down on the sheets, nudged her thighs apart, and settled between them. Then he kissed her again, lingering over the task, until she was moving restlessly against him again.

  Then he rolled onto his side and touched her stomach. “And I do this.” His fingers circled her belly button, then moved lower. She sucked in her breath. “Don’t,” she whispered.

  “You don’t like it?”

  His fingers were magical. “Yes . . . yes, but if you don’t stop, I’ll . . .”

  She couldn’t go on. He was driving her crazy, teasing, probing, preparing her for him. His head dipped and he began to kiss the fragrant valley between her breasts.

  “In my favorite fantasy, you really love this.”

  He kissed each breast, his tongue stroking each nipple until she was arched half off the bed. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and she kept trying to get him to move so that she could drive him out of his mind with her mouth and her tongue, but Theo wouldn’t budge.

  In this fantasy, he explained, she came before he did. He kissed away any resistance she might have had, and then he slowly moved down her body, kissing every inch of her stomach, teasing her belly button by gently tickling her with the tip of his tongue, and then he moved lower still between her silky thighs.

  The sensations were consuming. The climax was powerful. She cried out as she clung to him and let his passion devour her.

  Theo was such an amazing lover, so giving, so gentle. Then he began to torment her. He brought her to a fevered pitch a second time, but just when she was reaching the explosive brink, he stopped.

  “Hold on, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.”

  “Don’t stop. Don’t . . .”

  He kissed her. “I’ve got to protect you.”

  And then he left. She closed her eyes. Her body felt as though it was on fire, yet she was chilled because his heat was gone. She began to tremble, and just as she was reaching for the covers, Theo came back to the bed and covered her body with his. It seemed he’d been gone for an eternity.

  “Now, where was I?”

  His restraint and control amazed her. Then she noticed the beads of perspiration on his brow. His eyes were hazy with passion, and his jaw was clenched tight, and she saw then the lengths he had gone to for her.

  His hands began to stroke the passion within her once again. She fought him this time, trying to hold out until he lost his control, but he was stronger. He wasn’t gentle now. She didn’t want him to be. Consumed with the waves of pleasure still coursing through her body, she held him tight as he roughly parted her thighs, then lifted her hips and sank deep inside her warmth.

  His head dropped down onto her shoulder. He closed his eyes in sweet surrender, and let out a loud, thoroughly arrogant groan.

  Gripping her, he forced her to stay still. “I can make this last . . . if you . . . cooperate.”

  She smiled up at him. Lord, he was adorable. Then she moved.

  “Don’t . . . Oh, God, honey, slow down just a little . . . ”

  She moved again, more forcefully this time, arching up against him to take him deeper inside her. He couldn’t hold back any longer. The need became too great. He pulled back, then thrust deep once again, then again and again and again.

  Theo wanted to tell her how perfect she was, how beautiful, but he couldn’t get the words out. The intensity of the feelings rocketing through his body was too overpowering. She wouldn’t let him slow down. He loved her for that. He buried himself inside her, and with one final thrust and one hell of a shout, he climaxed while she held him close.

  He felt as though he’d just died and been reborn. The orgasm was the most amazing thing he’d ever experienced. He’d never let himself go like this. He’d always held a part of himself back, but with Michelle, that hadn’t been possible. It took long minutes for both of them to recover. He knew he had to be crushing her, but he couldn’t find the strength to move away.

  Michelle couldn’t stop caressing him. She loved the feel of his smooth skin under her fingertips. He was all muscle and strength and yet so very gentle with her. Her fingers trailed down his spine, then slowly moved back up.

  Her heart beat against her chest as though it were pounding to get out. She laughed over the absurdity of the idea.

  The sound of her lusty laugh made him smile. Bracing his weight with his arms on either side of her, he lifted his head from the crook of her neck so he could look into her eyes. “What’s so funny?”

  “Loving you is going to be the death of me. I can see the headlines now: ‘Sex kills surgeon.’”

  He frowned. “That’s not funny.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned up and kissed him. “Yes, it is.”

  “You’ve got to stay strong because we’ve got nine hundred ninety-nine more to go, and I can’t let you fall apart before we’re finished.”

  “Finished doing what?”

  That sparkle came into his eyes again, and she began to smile in anticipation.

  “Acting out my fantasies.”

  She did laugh then. “A thousand?”

  “Oh, yeah. At least a thousand.”

  “You’ve got quite an active imagination. Mr. Buchanan. There are places you can go to get help. They’re called sex therapy clinics.”

  He grinned. “You were all the therapy I needed.”

  “I was happy I could help.”

  “What about you, Michelle? Didn’t you ever have fantasies?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “But mine weren’t as creative. I kept having the same one over and over again.”

  He nuzzled the crook of her neck. “Tell me about it.”

  “It’s sort of a variation on what just happened,” she said softly. “But in my fantasy . . .”

  He lifted his head again. “What?”

  “I scoop you up and toss you on the bed.”

  Then he laughed. “I outweigh you by about two hundred pounds,” he exaggerated.

  “We surgeons develop incredible upper-body strength from cracking ribs and cutting through bones,” she teased.

  “Okay, I’m willing. If you want to pick me up . . .”

  He stopped when she shook her head. “I’d blow a disc,” she explained. “I only told you about the fantasy so you’d know . . . ”

  “What?”

  “You aren’t always going to be calling the shots.”

  “Meaning?”

  “It’s my turn to drive you wild.”

  “We’ll see about that.” He kissed her again, hard and fast, then got out of bed and lifted her into his arms. “I’m hot,” he announced.

  “Already?”

  Her fingers threaded through his tousled hair, trying to restore order to the soft strands.

  “Not that kind of hot, but if you keep that up . . .”

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’m sweaty hot. Let’s take a shower.”

  She was so content and sleepy now, she would have agreed to do anything he suggested. “I’ll scrub your back and you may scrub mine.”

  “No, I want to scrub your front, and you can —”

  She put her hand over his mouth. “I get the picture.”

  Ten minutes later they were both squeaky clean. The water had turned cold, but that didn’t squelch their passion. Feeling devilish, she leaned up on tiptoes and whispered her fantasy into his ear. She went into detail, and when she was finished, Theo was amazed he could still stand.

  She pushed him back against the tile, then began to drive him out of his mind with hot, wet kisses as she slowly worked her way down his slick body.

  He didn’t have the strength to carry her back to bed. They haphazardly dried each other between ardent kisses. Exhausted from their lovemaking, they fell into bed. Theo rolled onto his back. She
propped herself up on one elbow and traced the outline of the tiny scar from his appendectomy.

  Then she leaned down and gently kissed it. His eyes were closed, but he was smiling. “Do you do that to all your patients?”

  “Kiss their scars?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Absolutely. I have to.”

  He yawned. “How come?”

  “It’s part of the oath I took. Kiss it and make it better.”

  She pulled the sheet up as she rolled onto her back and closed her eyes. She was falling into a deep sleep when Theo nudged her.

  “Michelle?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I found your best feature.”

  “What is it?” she asked in a sleepy whisper.

  He tugged the sheet down and put his hand on her breast. If she hadn’t been so tired, she would have asked him to explain why men had such an obsession with breasts, but then she suddenly realized just where his hand was pressed and tears sprang into her eyes. How could she not love this man?

  He had placed his hand over her heart.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Michelle didn’t wake up until ten-fifteen the following morning. She stretched, then rolled over and hugged the pillow Theo had used. She closed her eyes again while she thought about the night they had shared. In the midst of her recollections, the sleep cleared from her mind and the day intruded. It was ten-fifteen, and she was supposed to have met her friends at the clinic at eight. Mary Ann was going to kill her. Was she sitting in her car waiting? No, of course not. She would have driven to the house.

  Twenty minutes later, Michelle was ready to go. Dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a sleeveless blue blouse, she put on ankle socks and one tennis shoe. She ran down the stairs, then paused in the laundry room to lean against the washer and put the other shoe on.

  She went looking for Theo. She found him in her library, sitting in her leather chair, talking on the phone. Noah was with him. He was perched on the edge of the desk. He smiled when he saw her.

  ��Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” she replied.

  She sat down on the sofa and bent to tie her shoelaces. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Theo hang up the phone, but she was having a little trouble looking directly at him. The memory of what they had done the night before was still acutely vivid in her mind.