Luke(23)

"I know." But he didn't, not really. He didn't have a clue, and he badly needed one.

"Are we going to do that again?"

"No." But he captured her mouth again anyway, because not getting another taste of her, when the first was still driving him out of his living mind, wasn't an option.

Her lips parted with a soft moan, and then her hands moved on his bare, heated flesh. Having her hands on him, hearing her pant softly, helplessly, drove him straight to the edge. He opened his mouth wider, pressing himself into her, letting out a low, rough groan when her fingers dug into his skin as if she needed the grip on her faltering reality. She was so unexpectedly irresistible, so damned fascinating, he couldn't let her go.

It was shocking, how much he needed this, shocking and delicious, and carried the pack of a one-two punch. He hadn't come for this, damn it, he'd come just to do his time. He didn't fully understand this clinic, or the sense of hope it gave to patients he still felt could be better served by conventional medicine, and yet here he was, his mouth and hands fully occupied—

"The door," she said into his mouth. "Luke, the door—"

Unbelievably, it was still open. More unbelievably, no one had caught them. Without breaking their connection, he kicked it closed and backed Faith to it, cradling her face and kissing her until the world receded again, until there was nothing, no one, except this, her.

She pulled her hands out from his shirt. He nearly moaned at the loss but, then she unbuttoned it, spread it open.

He shoved the lab coat off her shoulders, then her blouse.

She bit his bare shoulder.

He cupped her breasts in his hands.

And the world tilted.

"Lust," she gasped, when they next came up for air.

He might as well have just run a marathon for all his ability to breathe. He had a mouthful of her throat, a handful of her perfect breasts and his leg thrust high between hers. "Huh?"

"Lust." She licked her lips, that gesture he found so sexy, and like a helpless slave to the hunger, he thrust his hips against hers.

"It's … just lust," she repeated.

"Are you sure?" Because, shockingly enough, suddenly he wasn't.

"Extremely." She didn't look it though. "We've already decided we're just too different, right? Too busy with our own lives."

He slowly blinked. That's right. Too busy.

"I mean, obviously we have a thing for each other. A chemical thing. I can't seem to take my hands off you, and vice versa—"

At the reminder of where his hands were, cupped over her breasts, his thumbs rasping her nipples, he nearly groaned again. Instead, he slid them down, squeezing her hips now, and when she thrust against him one more time, he dropped his hands even further, to cup her perfectly rounded bottom.

Her eyes were opaque with desire, her voice a little shaky. "I'm thinking we can handle this." She wet her lips. "Lust is just a bodily function, right? Like drinking or going to the bathroom. So … we just deal with it. Then go on our merry way."

"Deal with it." Thinking on his feet had never been more difficult. "So you're saying we should…"

"Well, not here."

He looked around. Right. They were in a storage closet. At the clinic. With patients just down the hall.

Good God.

"But after work…"

He stared down into her still-flushed face. Her hair had rioted. Her blouse was opened and her nipples pressed enticingly against the material of her bra, seriously hampering his ability to put words together. "Are you trying to say we should have sex?"

"Just on Saturdays. For the two months you're so honor bound to give me."

He blinked again. "I thought we were going to ignore this."

"Are we ignoring it now?"

No. No they weren't. Of their own accord, his fingers again tightened on her very delectable ass. Ignore her? He had maybe a snowball's chance in hell. "What about after the two months?"

She bit her full lower lip again. "Well … you'd just have to let me go. I'm sorry, Luke, but like we said, we're just too different."

Too different? Right. They were too different.

Any red-blooded man would be laughing in triumph at this unexpected offer, any single man he knew. Hell, any man in the entire free universe.

Did he have this correct? Could he possibly? This gorgeous, sexy, unbelievably hot woman wanted to have sex with him, then after two months of great—and it would be great—sex, just walk away, all without a diamond ring, a white dress, white cake or white picket fence.

Oh yeah, he should be doing the happy dance. But he didn't feel like dancing. "Faith … you deserve more than that."

"It's what I want." She arched, very slightly, letting her extremely tight, hot nipples rub against his chest. "Are you going to turn me down, Luke? Are we going to have to try to work together, all worked up, without any relief?"

The thought made him want to cry. "No. God, no."

She smiled, backed away. "We probably have patients."

"Patients."

"I'll go first. I'll—"

A pounding at the door had them both jumping.

"Faith? Is that you in there?" Shelby called. "We have a patient we want to consult on, room four. You in there?"