Page 29 of Prognosis Bad Timing

CHAPTER FOUR

THERE was a brief momentwhen meaning it was possible but it passed and Carrie knew she wasn’t strong enough to turn him away. The thought of his lips on hers, his hand on her body, his stubble grating erotically against her cheek was making a mockery of her self-control. His head was moving closer to hers and she was greedy for contact.

Her eyes fluttered closed at the first touch of his lips on hers and then everything imploded. It was no gentle, explorative press of flesh. It was hot and hard and frantic. Bordering on desperate. Carrie felt the heat instantly.

Everywhere.

All the way through to her centre and back out again. He was everywhere. His breadth surrounded her, overwhelmed her, demanding and achieving entry into her most prized possession — her personal space. He pushed her harder and harder against the door, her back flattening against the wood as she pushed back, desperate to be nearer, inviting a deepening of the passion raging between them.

She couldn’t be passive — his lips demanded her to be an active participant. To thrust her tongue against his, to moan, to clutch the front of his shirt, to breathe hard like she’d run a marathon, to grind her hips into his. There was no time for thought or reflection, there was just feeling.

Like how good his mouth felt against hers, how her breasts ached to be touched, how hard he felt as he rocked his pelvis into her. And how long it had been since she’d done this. How ready she was.

And how this kiss was never, ever going to be enough.

She wanted more. She wanted to see all of him. Touch all of him. Feel him deep inside her. There were no thoughts of tomorrow or Dana or her job. It had been four long years and his kisses were like sweet wine on parched lips. She couldn’t think straight. Just feel. Just experience. Just drink up every drop.

She dragged her mouth away. ‘Inside.’

Charlie’s breath came in harsh gulps as he muttered, ‘Yes,’ against her mouth. Whisking the keys out of her fingers, he made short work of the barrier. Hell, he’d have kicked it in if it had been required.

‘Which way?’ he demanded in a gravelly voice as he pushed the door open.

She pointed and Charlie swept her up in his arms, cutting off her startled yelp with his mouth as he shut the door with his foot. Christ...her kisses were a mix of sweet and sinful, and he knew she’d be like that in bed, too. He could think of nothing else.

He had to have her — now.

Charlie strode quickly towards the indicated room, kissing her roughly until his shins met her bed and he threw her down onto the duvet. Light from a streetlamp outside entered through the high window above the bed and she looked utterly debauched, lying there, thoroughly kissed, on the mattress.

Her mouth was swollen and moist, tendrils of her auburn hair had escaped the clasp and her skirt had ridden up her thighs. But he needed more. He needed her shirt open and her skirt rucked up.

He needed to see everything.

Lowering himself to the mattress, he planted a knee between her legs, groaning as she ground herself against the bulk of the intrusion. He pushed his knee hard against her and his dick went to granite at the moan that escaped her lips. Then, grasping her shoulders, he rolled, pulling her over top of him.

That’s when his head hit a hard plastic object which roared to life, throwing a kaleidoscope of colours around the room. Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star blared out in a piercing electronic voice.

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