Caught in the Act

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A nurse had evidently brought her a pillow and blanket in an effort to help make her comfortable. The padded lounge chair could have served as a bed in a pinch. Delilah had the back reclined, the pillow behind her shoulders, the blanket thrown over the arm of the chair.

Her rich dark hair, freshly washed, swung loose and silky around her shoulders. The light from the laptop cast a soft blue halo around her. Her eyes looked mysterious, purposeful, as she typed away. Mick watched her, aware of the acceleration in his pulse, the expanding sexual tension.

She’d changed into a pair of baggy jeans and a miniscule, snowy-white, cropped T-shirt. Her sandals were off, tucked beneath the chair, her bare feet propped on the edge of the counter in front of the window. Two flowering plants now sat there, no doubt from Angel and Celia.

Delilah’s slim legs seemed to go on forever, and Mick, still only half-awake, pictured them around his hips, hugging him tight while he rode her, long and slow and so damn deep. He visually followed the trail of those incredibly long legs, and when he came to her hips he imagined them lifted by his hands, her legs sprawled wide while he tasted her, licked her and made her scream out a climax.

A groan broke free from him and Delilah jumped, nearly dumping her laptop. “Mick!”

Heat throbbed just below his skin. He was so aroused he hurt, but he’d done nothing more than look at her and give his imagination free rein. What would it be like to actually have her?

He swallowed and said with a drawling, raw deliberation, “I don’t suppose you’d like to give me another kiss?”

Slowly, her gaze glued to his, she set the laptop on the floor and stood. “I didn’t mean to be so brazen earlier. I just…it amazed me that anyone would do what you did.”

“So you kissed me?”

Arching one dark brow, she half laughed. “I wanted to devour you, actually.”

The shadows in the room did interesting things to her body. “Do you always say exactly what you think?”

She shrugged. “I guess so. I know I shouldn’t, but I’m out of practice when it comes to this sort of thing.”

“You can say whatever you want to me, okay?”

She nodded. “You saved my life, and you got hurt in the bargain. I saw you and I just…wanted to kiss you.”

That didn’t sound right to Mick. “So it was about gratitude?”

“Yes…no. I’m not sure.” She made a helpless gesture, then shifted her feet and tucked her silky hair behind her ear. “The thing is, touching you seems…right.”

He understood that. Touching her seemed right, too. Hell, devouring her seemed right. He’d have gladly gotten started right that minute, but she stood there, waiting, uncertain, very different now that they were alone. She wasn’t as defensive, and there was no reason for her to be protective.

No woman had ever been protective of him. Except Angel, but that was back when he’d been a boy. With Delilah it felt different.

“Everyone else has left?”

“Yes. Angel and Celia gave me the number of the hotel where they’re staying so you could call if you needed them. The man, Alec, said you had his cell number if you wanted to make sure he was on duty. Whatever that means.”

Mick nodded, understanding perfectly. Alec would wait and watch for Delilah to leave. He’d protect her until Mick could take over. There wasn’t a more capable or harder man than Alec Sharpe. Knowing he’d keep his eye on Delilah gave Mick a new measure of relief.

When he didn’t speak, she gestured at the flowers and said, “The women bought these in the gift shop.”

“That’s just like them.”

She fidgeted. “They’re…friends of yours?”

“More like family. As close as family can be without all the baggage.”

“Oh.” A mix of emotions crossed her features—confusion and relief. “Josh and Zack said they’d be in touch in the morning.”

“I figured as much.” She stood there before him, barefoot and fidgety, and Mick used the opportunity to look at her. The loose jeans hung low on her slim hips, showing a strip of pale belly between the waistband and the hem of her shirt. He saw the barest hint of her navel, enough to fire his blood, to make his mouth go dry.

He glanced at her breasts and found himself smiling. She was indeed small, but still so damn sexy he ached all the way down to his toes. As he stared, her nipples tightened, pushing him over the edge.

He needed her closer. Because she looked uncertain, he asked, “You didn’t like kissing me?”

“I did!” she blurted, then bit her bottom lip. She twined her fingers together and shifted her bare feet again. “I just didn’t want you to think that, you know, just because you were nice enough to save me that you had to…”

“Had to what?” Inside, he grinned, knowing what she thought, but in the mood to tease her.

“You know. Be sexual with me.” His gaze shot to her face and she rushed to add, “I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way I did. I mean, you’re incredible. Gorgeous and sexy and hard and…what woman wouldn’t want you? But I’m just me. I didn’t know if you wanted to—”

Just that quickly, his humor fled. “I want to.”

“You do?”

He was hard, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. “Come here, Delilah.”

As if reassured, she strode to the bed and sat beside him, this time to his left. “You want me to kiss you again?”

Unwilling to rush her or scare her off, he didn’t move. He wanted her to be as free as she’d first been, taking what she wanted from him, when she wanted it. Was there a better male fantasy than having a bold woman who knew her own mind and went after what she needed?

Holding himself still, Mick said softly, “I’d love for you to kiss me again.”

“You don’t need anything first?” She searched his face, looking him over, he assumed, for signs of discomfort. “A drink? More pain medicine?”

I need you. “No.”

Tentatively, she laid a hand on his chest. “You’re so warm,” she whispered, her fingers lightly caressing, edging under the loose neckline of the hospital gown. “I watched you sleep for a while and it made me nuts.” She glanced at him, meeting his gaze. “You even look good when you sleep. I had to get out my laptop to keep busy, just so I wouldn’t end up touching you. I didn’t want to wake you.”

Mick had no response to that, other than a rush of heat. The thought of her watching him and wanting him fed his awareness of her, making it more acute.

She touched his throat, then slid her slender fingers over his uninjured shoulder. “I think,” she whispered, watching the progress of her hand, “that you’re about the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.”

If they’d been anywhere other than a hospital room, he’d have pulled her under him. He shifted, felt the pain deep in his shoulder and cursed.

She quickly pulled away, then poured him a drink of water and lifted the straw to his mouth. “Shh. This will help.”

Getting her under him would help, but he didn’t say so. He drank deeply, hoping the icy water would cool his urgency, return a measure of his control. It was insane to want a woman this way.

After setting the paper cup aside, Delilah again rested her hand on his chest. Her gaze locked with his. “Your heart is racing.”

“I’m horny,” he explained, because anything more eloquent was beyond him while she continued to touch him.

Her light blue eyes twinkled and her lush lips curled into a satisfied feminine smile. “No sex for you, at least not until you’re healed.”

That “not until” stipulation—which pretty much guaranteed he’d eventually have her—about stopped his heart. Without another word she leaned down and touched her mouth to his. She was gone before Mick could respond.

Her blue eyes were warmer, softer, and he rumbled, “Again.”

She looked at his mouth, bent, stroked his bottom lip with her hot little tongue. “Do you like that?” she breathed.

He groaned.

Still so close he tasted her breath, she asked, “You’re not married or anything, are you?”

“No.”

“At first, I was afraid Angel or Celia—”

“No.” Using his left hand, he touched her hair. Warmth, softness. “I love your hair.” He tangled his fingers in the silky mass and brought her mouth back flush with his.

“Thank you,” she murmured, and obligingly gave him the longer kiss he wanted.

Dull pain pushed at Mick, but he blocked it from his mind. It was nothing compared to the feel of her. “Open your mouth.”

She did, then accepted the slow, deliberate thrust of his tongue. He stroked deep, taking her mouth, exploring all the textures and heat, and the taste that was uniquely Delilah.

They both groaned.

Delilah pulled back. She touched his jaw and asked, “Did I hurt you?”

He had to stop this or he’d lose it completely. “Of course not.”

“I’m not married or anything, either.”

Mick, still on the verge of a meltdown, managed to lift a brow at that candid disclosure, and she shrugged. “I just thought you should know,” she said, her words coming in soft, uneven pants, “being as we’re…well, doing this.”

“This?” She stayed close and the scent of her, lighter now and touched with lotion and powder, filled him. He wanted to wrap himself in it, wanted to hold her close to his body until their scents mingled.

“The whole sex thing.” She drew a breath, but kept her gaze steady, unwavering. “I assume that’s where we’re headed. I mean, I’ll have you all to myself in my apartment and I want you. I assume you want me, too.”