Doing It Right

  “I knew you’d find a way to spoil this,” she said, but she didn’t mean it. “This” had been nothing special, not at all, merely an instant treasured memory to be taken out and lovingly explored sometime in the future when she was alone again. “Am I too heavy? Should I get off?”

  “Yes, and don’t you dare move. Christ. As much as I’ve been fantasizing about it, I never thought it’d be so fabulous.”

  She giggled into his neck. “You’ve been fantasizing? About me?”

  “No, about Granny from The Beverly Hillbillies. Of course about you. Christ, don’t you know? You’re all I can think about. Dream about. Wait’ll I tell you what I was reduced to doing in the shower this morning …”

  “No thanks,” she said dryly, inwardly thrilling to his words. “And as far as the sex being good, conceit, thy name is Jared. It was good because you’re good.” She laughed. “And it’s obnoxious to immediately start complimenting your own performance.”

  “That’s not it at all,” he said, serious for once. She pulled back from his embrace and looked at him. There was no hidden grin, no teasing glint in his eyes. “It was you. You’re amazing … so beautiful and responsive. Although,” he added with a wry smile, “you certainly did your best to hide the fact that you were affected by my surging, tumescent loins—”

  “Tumescent means windy,” she said, fighting another laugh.

  “I mean, would it have killed you to scream that I was your love monkey? Maybe claw my back a little?”

  She didn’t say anything, just kept smiling. Funny how he had noticed, though. Her control seemed to bother him, though she wasn’t sure why. If anything, he should be grateful for it.

  “Next time, maybe,” he said, then leered when she raised her eyebrows at him. “Aw, you know you can’t resist me, baby. Of course, I’ll need a good forty-eight hours to recover …”

  She poked him in the ribs, earning a grunt, then snuggled against him again, oddly reluctant to separate from him. Their lovemaking had been marvelous, sublime, but it had solved nothing. They were still ludicrously different, he would still bug out on her the moment things got hairy. But for now …

  For now, she thought, I could almost believe in happy endings.

  “Oh, Kara,” he sighed, stroking her back, “you really do have to marry me.”

  She froze. He felt it at once, but didn’t comment, just kept running his hands up and down her back, trying to calm her with his touch. She would have given anything to know what he was thinking.

  Stupid, she told herself. You know what he’s thinking. Unlike you, he doesn’t hide how he feels. He really thinks he loves you, the poor bastard.

  O God, she thought in despair, we are in so much trouble.

  Chapter 6

  He fell asleep with a stupid grin on his face, a grin that absolutely would not fade. He didn’t want Kara thinking he had some sort of “me Tarzan, you Jane, me Jane’s hot love monkey” mentality about what they had shared, so he tried to quit smiling by deliberately calling up terrible thoughts. Famine (Boy, Kara doesn’t eat enough to keep a newborn alive, I should really get her to eat more …); war (Kara would kick some major ass in a war, we should get her into Iraq, take care of a few problems that way …); working a forty-eight-hour shift with no intern to help (I wonder if Kara would come to work with me again and hang out for a while?). She pervaded every rotten thought, making every one of them not so rotten. And now she was sleeping beside him!

  She hadn’t wanted to. She’d wanted to get off the floor, get dressed, lock him in his apartment like a barely trained dog, and leave for the rest of the night. To go where, he had no idea—he didn’t even know if she lived in the city. She was obviously rattled by his latest declaration of love and in true Kara fashion wanted to run away from strong emotion, hide until she had everything under control. Jared wanted more.

  Seeing he was going to be stubborn, she had sighed and acquiesced and they had crawled into bed together. Kara had dropped off at once—after insisting she be the one to sleep nearest the door, still selflessly looking out for him like the utter sweetheart she was—but Jared was having a little more trouble.

  Of course, he hadn’t gotten into a fight, taken out three strong men, broken into a mansion, swung by a pross house, and then hotly defended her way of life, all in the space of six hours. All he’d done, as usual where she was concerned, was watch and make wisecracks. Except at the end of the evening, of course.

  His smile broadened, remembering. Sliding between Kara’s thighs, seeing her gaze soften as her body welcomed him, had been like coming home. In much the same way someone’s life flashed before their eyes at the moment of death, in that instance their future flashed before his. He saw a wedding, Kara blooming with child, babies, a house in the country. Children blessed with his sense of humor and Kara’s utter fearlessness. He saw, oh, everything he’d ever wanted since he was old enough to realize people could make their own families, their own happiness.

  He knew better than to mention any of this to Kara. She got rattled enough when he told her he loved her. He always tried to make it sound like a joke, or hide the phrase in the middle of a sarcastic observation, but she tensed up anyway. No doubt about it—the woman he’d fallen for was big-time damaged.

  Now, what to do about it?

  Also, his mind whispered to him, annoyed, there’s a contract out on your life.

  Right, right, he hadn’t forgotten. Well, actually he had, for hours. Getting to know Kara was infinitely more interesting than worrying about some mob boss who, frankly, Kara could beat the snot out of anytime she liked.

  He glanced over at her, able to see quite well thanks to the moonlight splashed all over the room. Kara slept in the nude and her full breasts were peeking out from under the sheet. Her hair was unbound and spread across the pillow and looked as amazing as he had imagined it would. Interestingly, there was a frown wrinkle between her eyebrows, and even deep into REM sleep, she looked like she was thinking hard about how to get out of a trap.

  He tucked an arm around her slender shoulders and pulled her toward him, and she at once shifted in her sleep and cuddled into his embrace. He smiled again—God, he just could not stop with the grinning—and thought it was telling that Kara didn’t keep any sort of distance between them when she wasn’t consciously trying.

  Her thigh was draped across him and the feel of her smooth skin, coupled with the sweet weight of her breasts against his arm, caused an interested stirring between his legs. He forced the thought away. Kara needed her sleep—and so did he.

  Now if he could only stop grinning.

  Doctors, especially those not long out of their first year of residency, often came awake easily. In Jared’s case, Kara’s uneasy stirring brought him fully awake a moment before she cried out in her sleep. The sheets and blankets had twisted around her and she fought them with weak, frantic cries. He shook her shoulder—and dodged as her small fist shot out, missing the side of his face by a hair.

  “Kara! Wake up, honey, you’re having one hell of a bad dream.”

  “Everybody’s gone!” she cried, thrashing. “They’re gone, I’m all alone again. No! Come back! Come back!” The body was Kara’s, the deadly fists were also hers, but the wailing was that of a child, abandoned. Lost. And Jared instinctively responded to that voice.

  “That’s not true,” he soothed, dodging another flailing fist and pulling her into a tight embrace. “I’m here. You’re not alone. Everything’s all right.” Until she remembers a little more of her training, he thought nervously, and knees me in the gonads.

  Trembling like a puppy, she shook her head against his shoulder. He was fairly certain she wasn’t awake—not completely—and wondered how old this memory of hers was. Ten years? Twenty? “They’re all gone,” she said, almost moaned, “and I have to go back. He’ll hurt me. He’s always hurting me.”

  Who, Jared wondered with growing rage, was “he”? A foster father? A guard at juvenile hall? One of the
many who had hurt Kara for his own end, then either abandoned her or forced her to run away again. Only, Jared grimly deduced, to be brought back and shuffled into another foster home, where the cycle could start again. And again. A wretched existence, one that had broken more children than not. It was amazing that Kara had not only survived, but had emerged with her conscience and honor intact.

  “No one lays a hand on you while I’m around,” he said, pulling the blankets over both of them, gratified at how she pressed against him, already relaxing back into sleep. “It’s all right. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. Not ever.”

  Not even, he added silently, if I have to handcuff myself to your side for a year to get you to believe I’d never abandon you.

  He caressed her breast, felt her nipple stiffen against his palm, and stroked slowly, soothingly. She sighed. “Go to sleep,” he murmured, “there’s nothing here to be scared of,” and wondered how the hell he was supposed to go to sleep with a cock that was now wide awake and raring to go. For starters, you could keep your hands to yourself, moron. Sure. He’d stop eating and breathing while he was at it.

  Her eyes were open and she was staring at him in the gloom. She rolled closer, pressing more of her breast into his hand. She took a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly. “Jared,” she whispered, “don’t stop.”

  “Was that ‘Don’t. Stop!’ or ‘Don’t—”

  “Jared.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Just shut up,” she said, not unkindly, “and love me.”

  “That’s an easy one,” he said gently, kissing her brow. “Easier than breathing.” He wasn’t talking about the physical act. He wondered if she knew that. Even if she did, he realized, she wouldn’t believe him. It was enough to make him want to weep—or beat the living shit out of everyone in her life who had ever hurt her.

  He forced that away, not wanting to let ugly thoughts intrude on their precious time together. He leaned forward and kissed her, slowly sucking her lower lip into his mouth. She made a small sound and reached for him, found him, then her hand slid lower and she gently cuddled his testicles in her palm.

  He pressed kisses to her throat, her upper chest, her breasts, and moved lower, licking the small cup of her navel, nuzzling the sweet fleshy slope that led to her marvelous center. He parted her with his tongue, smiling at her gasp, and slowly, lovingly licked her slick length, tasting her salty warmth. She was still damp from their earlier lovemaking, from the seed he’d eagerly given her and that thought—he’d left his mark on her, in her—thrilled his inner Neanderthal.

  She was wriggling while he nuzzled and licked and kissed, catching more and more of her wetness with his tongue, spreading her damp folds so he could lap up her marvelous juices. Wriggling and groaning and saying something and … moving? He was so deeply into the moment, concentrating on her so fiercely, that he hadn’t noticed her movements until he felt her own mouth close around him. Her hand was still cupping his testicles, but now he could feel himself easing into her mouth, down her throat. In response he jabbed his tongue inside her as far as it would go and felt her tremble beneath him. In response to that, she backed off, only to slowly suck one of his testicles into her mouth.

  He nearly fainted on the spot. It felt like the bottom dropped out of his scrotum. The sensation was so fine he could feel his eyes roll back. He couldn’t recall any woman ever doing that to him before.

  She eased off again, probably feeling him shaking like a mobile home in a hurricane, and whispered anxiously, “Was that all right? I’ve never tried that before.”

  He said something—”Gbbrrlldd,” it sounded like—and when she tried it again his hips bucked without prompting from his brain. She played with him like that for a while, her tongue dancing circles around his aching balls, and he endured, his face pressed against her inner thigh, not daring to pleasure her for fear he would accidentally bite her or be too rough. When she pulled back and again sucked his length into her mouth, he felt it was safe to continue with her and, in fact, was eager for the taste of her again.

  She was holding him quite easily and he marveled at the concealed strength in her small, wiry frame. She was supporting him by his inner thighs, occasionally lowering him enough so he could plunge deeply into her throat, then pushing him back so she could breathe easier. While she took breaths, her tongue flicked out at the tip of him, teasing, stroking, and even—very gently—nibbling.

  In response, he again spread her wide and licked her slick length, pausing to pay extra, delicate attention to the impudent bud that was the center of her pleasure. Her thighs trembled in his hands as he slowly sucked her clit into his mouth and he hummed against her flesh, knowing the vibrations would push her closer to the edge. He dipped a finger inside her, then withdrew, then dipped again. When his finger was slick, he stroked a path down to the tight bloom of her anus and gently rubbed the rich core of nerve endings there. She made a surprised sound which escalated to a muffled shriek as he slowly pushed his finger past that tight muscular ring. She writhed, trying to jerk away from him, but had no leverage from her position and, with his cock in her throat, no way to verbally protest.

  “Easy,” he murmured, “just let me … for another few seconds … it’s all right …” When he was up to the first knuckle he bent to her again, jamming his tongue inside her damp cave and prodding as his nose dug into her clitoris and his finger slid around slowly, out just a touch and then in, no big dramatic strokes, just an overall pressure and gentle wriggling.

  She quit trying to get away from him; he could, in fact, feel her entire body quaking as her orgasm neared. She let go of his thighs and he thrust against her warm, inviting mouth, hoping like hell she was getting enough air, hoping like hell he would come soon before he had a heart attack. Meanwhile, the taste and smell of her was in his mouth, his nose, driving him crazy, making him want to never stop touching her, tasting her, and she was bucking against him and he felt her clench around him as she shook with the force of her orgasm. A half-second later, he found his own release, felt his seed pouring down her throat and pulled back, afraid for her, but she held onto his thighs with an iron grip and milked him greedily, not letting go until she was damn well ready.

  They collapsed against each other and lay without moving, trying to get their breath back. Finally, she said, “I don’t even remember why I woke up. But thank God I did.”

  He laughed, and the laugh turned into a groan as she pinched his inner thigh, then started tickling. He barely had the strength to roll away from her. “Christ, you’re amazing,” he had time to say before falling into a sleep so deep, it was nearly unconsciousness.

  Chapter 7

  Kara came awake like a cat in the dark. As always when in a strange place, her waking thoughts were chaotic—Where am I? Is it safe here? How long have I been here? Who’s after me? Am I safe here?

  Memories flooded back and she relaxed, then despised herself for relaxing. She certainly wasn’t safe in Jared’s bed. For one thing, the man was deluded into thinking he cared about her, but she wasn’t falling for that one, thanks very much. For another, the man was ridiculously talented in bed, a gold star lover—not that her experience was vast, but still. She thought about his hands on her, his mouth on her, and felt her face getting warm. He’d done things to her no one had ever done, things she’d never even thought of. And her body craved more, needed more.

  She forced her mind away from Jared’s overall marvelousness and back to the problems at hand.

  Carlotti had a contract on the man whose bed she was sharing. Jared was a bomb waiting to go off and blow her life to pieces. It was a simply a matter of what happened first—Carlotti got the drop on them or Jared broke her heart.

  Then run, her mind whispered treacherously and she squirmed in shame. Jared saw a lot—too much, sometimes—and he was right when he called her a coward. It was her nature to run from adversity and emotional danger. Jared had meant something to her from the beginning and that had
only made her fight harder.

  Now it was too late. She quit pretending when he coaxed her into staying overnight. She was in love. She was such a stupid fool she had given her heart to someone again, despite life’s cold lessons—and look who she’d picked to fall for! A doctor who was as straight and narrow as a ruler, whose idea of big trouble was running out of gauze pads.

  Lying next to Jared’s comforting warmth, she wryly reflected on the fact that she would take murderous goons and the threat of jail over falling in love any day. She was the thief, but Jared had effortlessly lifted her heart and taken it for himself. His sleight of hand had been so superb, she had never seen it coming.

  She sat up and looked around his bedroom. There was plenty of light from the moon and she observed a single man’s clutter, a man who worked long hours and cared little for keeping up with the laundry. Despite the mess, his bedroom was comfortable and inviting. And big. Plenty of room for two.

  She shook her head at her foolishness. Jared was beyond marvelous, with a healer’s comforting touch and a comedian’s wit, but he would eventually leave her, as everyone did. It wasn’t a bad thing, it was just the nature of things, of men, of family. She knew once you grew to depend on someone, they would immediately leave you to an orphanage or the streets.

  Worst of all were the foster families, the ones who didn’t have to care for you, who were paid by the state to feed you, but then pretended they did care, right before they shipped you back to the state home. She had sworn by the age of ten never again to fall into the trap of caring and for the most part had kept that promise to herself. There had been a few slips, of course, but the lesson, hard learned, sometimes had to be reinforced.

  She eased from the bed and Jared never stirred, though he muttered unhappily in his sleep and his hand sought her. She tucked the blankets beneath his chin, marveling at how boyish and charming he appeared even in sleep. She hated to leave him, this warm, comfortable room, this place. And because she hated it so much, she made herself get dressed and get the hell out.