Page 3 of Prognosis So Done

‘I’m sorry I woke you.’ She lifted her eyes off his smooth pectoral muscles and tried to shut down her peripheral vision so she couldn’t see the bulge of his naked biceps.

‘I’m not.’

Harriet frowned as he lifted a hand and caressed the St Christopher hanging from the delicate silver chain around her

neck. God...he had a mouth that was made for kissing and she could feel herself teetering on the line. She wanted to lean forward and draw his soft bottom lip into her mouth and bite it.

He tugged gently trying to draw her into the room but Harriet resisted. She knew that crossing the line was not what this was about.

Give him the papers and go. Run like the wind.

Harriet brought the envelope up between them, abruptly displacing his hand.

‘What’s this?’ he asked, a small smile playing on his lips and dancing in his grey eyes.

‘Divorce papers.’ It was blunt but she felt stronger just saying the words.

He stared for a moment, shooting her another slow smile as he took the envelope and tossed it over his shoulder. Harriet heard it land on the floor behind.

‘Gill...’ she chided softly. ‘I need you to sign them. It’s time.’

He stood to one side and gestured her into the room with a flourish of his deft surgeon’s hands. Harriet shook her head vehemently. ‘No.’

She knew what would happen if she put her foot over the line. His quarters were three metres by three metres dominated by an unmade bed and an undressed man.

‘Harriet.’ He sighed, but she could see the sparkle of amusement lighting his eyes. ‘I’m not going to discuss our divorce with you in the corridor.’

His rich, deep voice oozed like warm chocolate, coating her in its sweet, sticky web. He held out his hand to her. It sounded so reasonable and he was so damn tempting like this all big and broad. Warm and sleepy. Straight from his bed.

Hesitating only briefly she took his hand and his gentle tug pulled her over the line.

And not to discuss their divorce, either.

When he reached behind her and pulled her hair free she didn’t protest. Neither did she when he kissed her. In fact, she welcomed it – greedily - ready to join in this dance they did so well, eager to be naked with him one last time.

Harriet had felt the familiar pull the moment he had opened the door and had known deep inside that resistance was useless. She could pretend as much as she liked that it was over between them, but she knew this would never be over.

This insane lust that had blinded her with its ferocity

for seven years.

Sure, he’d sign the papers and their union would be broken, but this endless urge to be with him, to know him carnally every time they were together, could never be broken. Her only hope was absence.

Which was why, come tomorrow, she was staying way the hell away from him!

A low quiver in her abdomen at the sheer hunger and force of his kiss had her clinging to his broad naked shoulders. She heard him groan her name into her mouth and she whimpered in

response.

‘Harry,’ he said, tearing his mouth away and looking searchingly into her eyes, his breathing harsh, his grey eyes stormy with passion.

She claimed his mouth quickly, hungrily, empowered by his almost bewildered look. The fact that she could do to him what he did to her was a powerful aphrodisiac and she let herself go, let the kiss grow wild and savage. Just for one last time she wanted him to realise what he was turning his back on.

Her hands roamed to the smooth muscles of his chest, trailed down his flat abdomen, and she took pleasure in their quick response to her touch as they contracted beneath her nails. And when she slipped her hands beneath his boxer shorts to grab handfuls of his tight buttocks she grinned in triumph as the hardness of his erection pushed urgently between her hips.

He grasped the bottom of her scrubs top and whipped it

over her head in a swift movement not bothering to fumble with the bra clasp just yanking the cups aside, freeing her breasts and roughly stroked his thumbs over her nipples until she cried out and they peaked into hard nubs.

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