Playboy Doctor (18 page)

Musing over their romantic interludes made her sigh. How could she possibly last without seeing him until tonight?

She tried to keep herself occupied, arranging her scattered rugs that were now dried out, all the while her mind saturated in the memory of Shayne. She moved onto touching up paint on a doorjamb, but kept remembering all the hot places he'd touched her. Goodness, he made it difficult to concentrate on anything today. She tried to tamp down the niggling memories or she'd wouldn't get much more done.

She was soon planting yellow impatiens along her walkway when the hot thoughts of Shayne burst through fully. Warm memories of his heated skin against hers came to her in sultry waves. Images of his lips sucking on her flesh flared through her mind. His hot whispers echoed in her ears. So too, her needful cries of release.

Oh, she shouldn't be thinking about him so much, it only made her insides ache. He'd unleashed a raw physical passion within her that clawed for release at the mere thought of him. He fulfilled her sexually, but more so, he made her heart bloom. And she'd foolishly allowed it. Perhaps she shouldn't have taken the bold step of falling into Shayne's arms last night, but after the turmoil of the ER, she didn't want to be anywhere else except in his embrace.

She rose from the plantings, turned, and took in the lovely site of the ocean at the edge of the property. Like riding an ocean current, Willow couldn't help but be swept away by her feelings for Shayne. Each new emotion rolled over her as often a new wave's relentless tumble onto the shore. The man left her heart on edge emotionally and kept her on her toes professionally.

She headed back into her home, then got to work dusting her photo collection of family and friends on her bookshelf. Frames made of silver, wood, and crystal encased cherished images of those she loved. She could already imagine one more photo added—one of her and Shayne.

Would every little task, every little gesture, make her think of him? She giggled. Absolutely.

In broad brush strokes, she'd mentally painted a self-portrait of a woman flawed, who could never be loved fully. But then came Shayne who made her feel otherwise. His unwavering affection had her challenging her former way of thinking. Maybe she could be loved and cherished despite her flaw—her inability to have children. Shayne made her think so. Entertaining the notion was one thing, but could she ever actually believe it?

She could... almost.

Then again, she hadn't told Shayne about her blood disorder.

Inwardly, her heart cracked.

Shayne carried great pain over not having a child. He'd also confessed he wanted a family. How could she tell him the truth about her medical condition now? She couldn't give him what he wanted most. She could never deny him the joy of a son or daughter. She couldn't do that to him. So, what was the sense of telling him the truth of her plight? Especially when he'd be heading back to London. No, she couldn't have him, not completely, but she would take their soulful bond for the time being. Willow stepped back from the photo collection that didn't include Shayne—and never would.

* * *

Shayne placed the wrench back into the toolbox sitting in Willow's back hall. The final task on his to-do list was completed, tightening a leaky faucet. He'd already replaced two shingles, then sanded and painted the last of the damaged baseboards. The charming Florida bungalow had been in good shape already, but now, it was solid. Willow's landlord had ordered a few replacement windows to stand up to hurricane-force winds; they would arrive any day. The broken pipe from a recent storm had been attention-grabbing and he was happy to be here to further ensure Willow's safety.

Speaking of Willow, she approached him in the hall and tucked her hand in his as if it were the most natural act in the world. As natural as helping her with her home. Holding her in his arms. Loving her in his bed.

"I guess the faucet leak was the last thing on your honey-do list, hmm?"

He chuckled. "The honey-do list is honey-done."

"Thank you." Willow rose on her toes and kissed him on the lips. "I can't think of anything else that needs attention, well, except you."

"Me? I need attention?"

Willow's light expression deepened to a come-hither look. "Oh yes."

She threaded her fingers through his and tugged him along to the back of the house, to the darkness outside. Willow guided him down onto a lounge chair in a small private corner of the patio surrounded by bushes bursting with gardenias. The intoxicating scent of the blooming white flowers softened the air around them. She eased him back in a comfortable position. He went willingly. Willow brought her knee over his torso and straddled him. The warmth of her thighs pulsed a heat through him. He drew his expression up to hers. With the black of night behind her, and a halo of light from the moon shining down on her hair, she looked like an angel, albeit a wickedly seductive one.

She dipped her head low to give him a dewy kiss.

While he kissed her, he cupped her bottom, holding her steady because her sensual movements came perilously close to driving him mad.

"I like getting this kind of attention," he said through a groan.

"I like giving it," she cooed. She rocked her hips against his growing erection. "Mmm, you weren't lying when you said liked the attention."

"A man wouldn't lie about a moment like this."

She eased back from him and sat upright, the outline of her breasts straining against her thin pink tank top. Shayne already hated not feeling the weight of her fully on him. She gazed at him with a wayward smile, her eyebrow raised in naughty seduction. The woman exuded the confidence of a seductress.

Was this the same Willow he knew from the moment he barged into her life? How she'd resisted when he'd imposed himself on her! Made demands on her. Disheveled her tidy little world against her wishes. Altered her life.

Despite that, she'd been the one to alter him and his life. She tamed the ruthless cad inside him, the one that shielded him, kept him safe—or so he'd thought. He was weak around Willow—no—not weak, he was simply a man with a heart and soul. Although he'd denied it until now because Willow could build him up or tear him down—she wielded that kind of power over him.

But even when she built him up, why did he feel so defenseless around her?

And she was indeed building him up now.

Willow unzipped his pants and tugged them down along with his boxers.

"Willow," he growled, "you better know what you're in for if you're going to strip me down." The breezy night air aroused him further.

"I'm well aware... oh my," she said and marveled at the girth of his erection. "Someone is happy to see me."

"You have no idea," he rumbled, stunned by the sensual hold she had over him.

In one smooth move, she pulled off her tank top, revealing a black lace bra, the flesh of her plump breasts spilling over the tops of the cups. The glorious vision only made him grow harder. His heat swelled, painful and full, demanding release.

"I need..." he swallowed back a groan, the intensity of his engorged shaft so full, the mere sight of Willow in her lacy bra already brought him to the edge.

She unhooked her bra, casting it aside, and her weighty breasts hung free. She brought his hand to cup the underside of her breast. He massaged her roundness, making her moan in pleasure.

She pulled back from his sensual grasp. She dipped her head low to his hips. Long, light locks of hair fell forward and cascaded onto his abdomen. Soft curls brushed against his sensitive skin, making him shiver.

Watching the top of her head make her way down toward the source of his fierce need made him hot with anticipation of what was to come.

She flicked his tip with her tongue, teasing him, and he kicked back his head in response. He had to hold back or he'd blow right there. With her moist tongue, she lavished attention on his engorged shaft. Before he couldn't take another minute of her sensual torment, she encircled her lips over his tip, already stretched tight. She brought her full mouth down on him and took in his length.

Shayne drew in a sharp breath, shocked by the effect she had on him. When she drew her mouth up, she sucked hard, then back down along his heat again, going deeper. Her mouth full of him, she moaned in pleasure. The vibration of her moan deepened the intensity of her hold on him. She loved on his length, milking him for all he was worth. In a perfect tempo, she bobbed on him, sucking, moaning, inflicting sexual carnage.

Unable to resist her sensual oral wiles, he was about to succumb and explode—when she stopped.

He gasped. "Willow! I'm about to—"

"Oh, no you don't. Not when I have you right where I want you."

Unable to speak, unable to do anything but obey her every sensual command, he still held back, although it pained him to do so.

After pulling off her shorts and black panties, Willow slid the condom on him. She then kneeled above him, spread her legs, and straddled him once again. She brought herself down onto his shaft. Slowly, she took in the length of him—how could this woman be tight and slick at the same time?

"You're already so wet," he uttered.

"Torturing you turns me on," she rasped.

And she certainly was torturing him. Ready to lose his mind, he did all he could to be strong and stay swollen to please her. As she deepened his penetration inside her, she emitted a husky gasp.

"It's even more intense when I'm on top of you," she murmured. "I had no idea."

Shayne watched in awe while she undulated her hips to please herself to her innermost depths. Her hips rotated in a way that massaged her muscles inwardly. Her sensual gyrations also massaged him until tugging on his hardness, the hot pulsing need to forcibly drive himself inside her. When he heard her cry for more, he pumped up into her, thrusting hotly, wanting to reach her even more deeply... as deeply as she reached him.

Willow whimpered, her pelvis rocking in time with his. Her every pant shortened to a high, sensual, fever pitch. His tip reached her inner depths, knocking against that hot sensitive spot within her he'd desperately wanted to reach. She convulsed faster until a deep throaty growl escaped her. A flood of hot wetness came from her, coating his throbbing heat. The sudden slickness shot a jolt through him. The sensual carnage she'd inflicted on him had his instincts taking over. He pumped into her fiercely, fully consumed by her.

As her orgasm continued to sweep through her, she bucked, furiously rocking her hips. He pumped her until finally plunging one last time, releasing while inside her, and uttering her name.

Overcome by the heat of the moment, Willow whimpered one last time before collapsing onto him. He caught her in his embrace. Her breathing came hard, her breasts pressing against his chest with every deep breath she took. He held on, keeping her top on him, holding her, not letting her go. He never wanted to let her go and the thought scared the living hell out of him.

Chapter 15

Following an evening of making love to Shayne, Willow lay in his arms, in her bed. Their evening together had been nearly perfect, except her troubling guilt over deciding not to share the truth about her blood disorder. She knew she'd made the right decision not to tell him, a burden she'd bear alone. The guilt finally ebbed as slumber came over her. She drifted in and out of dreams. Sweet dreams of Shayne. Fantasy dreams of them together forever.

The dulcet dreams however, gave way to darker visions. Nightmarish visions of babies lost, leaving her heartbroken and destitute. Fighting for what should have been hers. The dark visions kept coming; of her floating amid grey clouds, reaching out into the mist, to each infant she would never know, who'd been taken and whisked off. In her dream, she wailed at the unfairness and loss.

Willow woke to the sound of her own cries. She lifted her head from the tear-dampened pillow to see she'd kicked the blanket off her sweat-sheened body. She gasped in anguish and confusion. What was going on?

She heard her name murmured in her ear. "Shhh, honey, it's just a bad dream. I'm here. You're all right."

Shayne curled his body closer around hers, his arm wrapped around her, calming her with soothing whispers in her ear. "Oh, Willow..."

"Shayne?" she half cried. "Are you really here?"

His warm lips against her ear formed into a smile. "Yes, I'm here. You were having a bad dream. What's got you so scared?"

Willow stayed silent and lay there, letting him rock her into a subdued calm. Only then, could she speak again.

"It, it was a baby dream."

"A baby dream? You want to talk about it?"

She did, but didn't. No one could understand unless they'd been through the heart-wrenching loss of miscarriage. "I get them sometimes. It happens when you've lost a baby. The dreams just come at you and are so strange. I try to make sense of them but..."

"Maybe it's part of your healing."

She loved how he could see a bright spot amid the cloudy pain. But something evoked the harrowing dream. She just knew it.