Page 23 of Prognosis Irreconcilable Differences

She knew there were women out there who could divorce emotion from sex, and she was glad for them. Bravo to them. She’d kill for a bit of that now. But she knew herself too well.

She couldn’t. Not really. And not with Nathan.

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Nathan didn’t lingerover the farewells, and Jacqui felt her panic increase exponentially the further they got from Vince and Abigail’s apartment. They waited for the lift, and she could feel his gaze travelling over her like a caress, as if he’d licked with his tongue straight up her middle from her toes to the tip of her nose.

The lift arrived. They got in. Nathan punched a button. ‘That went well,’ he said, his voice rough with building desire. He could feel his circulation pulsing through every vein as each footfall took him closer to their destiny tonight.

‘Yes,’ she murmured, standing as far away from him as possible, her brain searching for a way out of the sticky web of desire her brilliant acting had spun them in.

Nathan watched her stare fixedly at the floor as she shrank into the corner. She was withdrawing, struggling for control. He’d seen the flare of panic in her eyes when he’d suggested they leave. But they’d passed the point of no return.

This was bigger than them. Way bigger.

They rode down six floors. The lift dinged. He gestured for her to precede him out and they walked to his apartment. Nathan unlocked the door and pushed it open for her. She walked in. He followed.

The door shut.

There were a few seconds of silence where Jacqui could hear only their breath in the semi-dark. She barely registered the soft moonlight invading the apartment through the undressed windows over the screaming in her head.

Run, run, run.

But the heavy tentacles of desire were turning her bones to liquid, anchoring her to the ground, paralysing her will. She opened her mouth. She didn’t want this. Well, she did. But she shouldn’t.

It wasn’t rational.

She dragged in a breath. It was loud in the silence —like the first gasp of someone who’d crossed over briefly only to be sent back for a little longer.

‘Goodnight, Nathan.’

He placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘Jacq.’

Jacqui shut her eyes against the longing in his voice and the primal pull deep inside. She reached for the wall. ‘Please, Nathan.’

A beat or two passed before he stepped closer, his chest skimming her back. He lifted a finger and brushed a lock of hair aside, leaving a bare portion of skin.

‘You want this,’ he whispered against her neck. ‘We both do.’

His voice filled her head and her heart, and heat unfurled like a bud flowering beneath the sun. She whimpered. At least it sounded as if it was her. But then she was turning, powerless to resist his pull.

And his mouth was on hers, and somehow she went from being wrapped in his embrace to having her legs wrapped around his waist. Her bottom was cradled in his palms, the wall was at her back, and they were kissing and kissing like a pair of teenagers three seconds before curfew.

Except there was nothing adolescent about it. It was deep and frantic, tainted with desperation after three hours of teasing and ten years of denial. Nathan held her against the wall, his strong hands supporting her bottom, kneading it as he pushed his tongue into her mouth, groaning as her tongue joined in.

He moved, needing to get her horizontal, but she was pulling frantically at his shirt, tearing at the buttons, unbalancing him. He only made it as far as the opposite wall.

Her hands were at his fly now, and he left her mouth to bite down her neck, his own hands coming up to palm her breasts roughly. She moaned as he held her, pinned with only the thrust of his hips and his hands. He could feel the erectness of her nipples beneath the fabric of her dress.

‘Need this off,’ he demanded, before dipping his head and claiming her mouth again.

He steadied them and moved again, heading in the direction of his bedroom. But her hand had finally found a way into his pants, and when she palmed him his knees almost buckled and he staggered. Luckily the back of couch was there, and they tumbled awkwardly against it, her breasts squashed to his chest, her hand still firmly grasping his throbbing erection.

Nathan took advantage of her standing and grabbed fistfuls of the dress, working it upwards, exposing every inch of her naked legs and then finally —fucking finally —her very naked derrière. His hands palmed the surface of her buttocks, refamiliarising themselves with their contours as he pulled her pelvis in close to his and plundered her mouth.

He gave them a squeeze and she moaned against his lips. Then she returned the favour and he lost his mind, dragging his mouth from hers. ‘Need to see you naked. Bedroom.’

Jacqui shook her head. It had been ten years. She didn’t want to wait any longer. Not a few minutes. Not even a few seconds. And she certainly didn’t want to give her earlier doubt demons any time to talk her out of it.

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