Page 41 of Color of Love

“Challenge accepted,” he growled before he swooped down. His body pinned her to the wall while his mouth owned hers. He ate at her like a starving man. His kiss wild and dangerous, passion incarnate, full of teeth, tongue and need. White hot need that set her aflame. She moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck and gave in, returning his kiss with abandon.

It was a kiss for the ages, hard, soft and sweet. It was a promise of what was to come and as his tongue stroked against hers, she surrendered. It was like no kiss she had experienced before and he was ruining her for her future husband, because she couldn’t imagine anything matching up to this.

She wanted to give in to him, her ethics be damned. It wasn’t like she took an oath like other doctors did, it was just—frowned upon. There was a serious chance she could never feel this way again and she owed it to herself to explore it. When she thought about being ninety in a nursing home, looking back over her life, would she prefer the memory of his mouth on hers and the night he could give her, or that one time, out of all the other bloody times, when she did the right thing? As awful as it was, she knew which she would prefer.

She gave in to it, succumbed to her wants and needs and he reveled in it. Little growls left his throat as he devoured her. She tugged at the hem of his shirt, needing to touch his skin. She stroked her fingers across his hard, muscled abdomen before he stilled her hands. He lifted his head, his breath leaving him in ragged pants, his expression fierce.

“Say yes, Justine. I won’t ask again.”

She couldn’t go the rest of her life without knowing what this could feel like, what he could feel like, how he looked with his face twisted in pleasure. She damned herself.

“Yes,” she whispered brokenly. He grunted in satisfaction and placed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, and she fought back a whimper at the sweetness of it.

“I’ll come to your place, tomorrow evening,” he said, and then he was gone. She was left to make her way home wondering if she’d made a deal with the devil.

*

He knocked on her door, one rap of his knuckles, pause, and then another. As Blake waited for her to answer, he wondered whether she would chicken out. A smirk crossed his face at her surrender yesterday, the relief he felt had been so great, so shocking that he didn’t want to look at it too closely. He rearranged his features as he saw her silhouette at the door. She opened it and his heart kicked in his chest.

She was a vision. Her dark, wavy hair cascaded down like a river, begging to have him run his hands through it. He took in her outfit, denim shorts that displayed her long, toned legs that he couldn’t wait to have wrapped around him. He lifted his eyes to her baby pink t-shirt that had a cartoon cat wearing a tiara and read, ‘Glamorpuss’. He felt his lips twitch at her adorableness. He liked that she hadn’t dressed for seduction and yet he never wanted to bed anyone more.

She looked surprised to see him, he was surprised himself. Not that he was here, that had been inevitable, but that he pursued her so doggedly. He’d never gone to these lengths for a woman before, but she affected him like no other and he needed to have her. If only to give himself peace from the constant thoughts and images bombarding him. And the constant ache in his groin.

She didn’t say anything as she looked at him, but something hot passed between them. She swallowed. His eyes caught the motion of her delicate throat working and he couldn’t wait to have his lips there, kissing, licking, sucking.

“I’ve just made some dinner, there’s enough for two,” she said, stepping to the side to let him in. He came inside, pausing in front of her and at first she looked away. Her eyes darted around the hallway, worry clouding her features, until they hardened. She stood straighter and met his gaze, holding it. There she is, he thought and pressed a swift kiss to her lips. He went to pull away, but she softened beneath him, and his resolve crumbled briefly. He swept his tongue inside, she tasted sweet but carnal and he loved it.

When he pulled away, he had the satisfaction of seeing her eyes clouded with desire, and he had to keep walking before he threw her over his shoulder and stomped off to the nearest bedroom, caveman style. That’s how she made him feel, aggressive with want and need. He’d never felt that way with Katie.

He put his helmet on the wooden sideboard and she took his leather jacket from him and hung it up on the coat rack in the hall before he went into her living room. His eyes traveled around the room. Light walls and feminine accents gave the space a delicate, comfortable feel. He glanced around, taking in the details of her home, memorizing them, spotting little details like her bookcase, full to the brim, but still organized alphabetically.

He followed her into the kitchen, noting the white cupboards with floral patterned worktops and orange flowered wallpaper that brightened the room. A pink retro-style radio on the side played quietly in the background. It was charming, and so very her. She pointed to the dining table in the center of the room and moved to set an extra place for him. He eyed the fragile dining chair suspiciously and slowly lowered himself into it, before trusting it to fully take his weight. She held out a bottle of wine and when he nodded, she poured him a glass, and then she lit the bright orange candle in the middle of the table.

The food smelled amazing. He normally didn’t have much of an appetite and had to force himself to eat to keep his strength up when he worked out. It was a side effect of his insomnia and anxiety. But suddenly he felt starved, the smell of spices teasing him.

“I hope you’re hungry,” she said, placing his plate in front of him and sitting down across from him.

“Ravenous,” he replied, his voice deepening with his meaning and she fumbled her cutlery. He tried not to smile, was little Miss Sinful nervous? They ate in silence and as they did, she seemed to get even more tense, her eyes were wide, her movements stiff and forced. She pushed her food around her plate without really eating any. He needed to get her to relax and fast, or she would panic and call an end to their arrangement before it had even begun.

“Do you have any siblings?” he asked.

*

Blake’s words pulled Justine from her harried thoughts. She was going crazy, over-analyzing, over-thinking and getting herself worked up. She tried to remind herself that she didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to and wasn’t ready for. But she did want to, more than words would express. She was just nervous.

She was nervous that she might not know what to do and make it awkward. What if she was bad in bed? What if he didn’t like her body? She was on edge, and he wasn’t helping, turning up looking all sexy and staring at her in that way that made her feel hot and needy. And his all ‘discreet’ touches and innuendos? Ugh! She was ready to combust. She watched as he swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, she mentally shook herself.

“Yes, I have two older brothers,” she replied.

He nodded and shoved another forkful of chorizo quesadilla into his mouth. She noticed he had nearly cleared his plate and she felt a little wave of pride wash over her at how he’d wolfed down what she made. She loved to cook and other than her lessons with Hilda, she didn’t get to do it for anyone very often. She glanced down at her own food, barely touched and sighed. She took another bite and chewed but the food was tasteless and settled like lead in her stomach. She was too nervous to eat.

“Do you have any siblings?” she asked, trying to distract herself. There was a pause while he finished his mouthful, she was glad he hadn’t talked with food in his mouth, her brothers did that and she hated it.

“Nope, I’m an only child,” he replied.

“Are you close with your parents?” she asked, not expecting him to get too chatty. He had a habit of not opening up, although their deal should change that. Her heart thudded in her chest at the reminder.

“Not really, they’re hippies so having a son join the military and fight instead of dedicating his life to peace and love sort of ruined any relationship we could’ve had. I used to write to them when I was on tour but my letters went unanswered. After a few years I just stopped writing.”

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