After Hours (InterMix)(27)

I yanked on a cardigan over my tee to hide the fact that I wasn’t wearing a bra. I opened the door, and there he was. All tall and huge and with a dark, fresh gash on one temple.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hey.”

How regular a thing was this going to be, his turning up at my door unannounced? I probably needed to invest in a less-dumpy sleep wardrobe.

I stepped aside and he stalked past me, moving in a way that told me his brain was still firmly clocked in. “You okay? What happened?”

“Don,” he said.

“Jenny said there was an incident.” I stepped closer, examining his cut and counting six stitches. “He attacked you, huh?”

He nodded. “Got ahold of a letter opener from someplace.”

I shut the door behind him. “Shit.” Don was his favorite patient; everyone knew that. But why was Kelly here? “Is he stable now?”

“They tranqed him—asleep before I even got sewn up.”

I glanced again at his wound, black with blood. “Jesus. Thank goodness he didn’t get you in the eye.” What can I do for you? I wanted to ask, but it felt like I already knew the answer, and the answer was, he didn’t know any better than I did why he was here.

We got a little something between us, don’t we? The words trickled cool foreboding down my back, chased by a dangerous warmth. All that lust I thought I’d gotten over . . . It’d gone dormant, that was all. Now it was wide-awake, hungrier than ever.

I asked a different question. “Would you like to go out for a beer?” It was what he’d done for me when I’d been upset, and it wasn’t terribly late. We needed to go somewhere—anyplace that wasn’t my bedroom.

“Nah.”

“You look like you could use a drink. I wish I had something exciting to offer,” I said, and he took a step closer. “But I’ve only got iced-tea mix . . .” I trailed off, took a step back as he took another forward. My gaze dropped from his eyes to his mouth.

His big, warm hand touched my side beneath my cardigan, and I made a soft noise, the sound of sense being knocked from my skull, a tiny ooah. As we took another step together, his palm slid around my ribs to my back, fingers strong and bossy, just as I’d known they’d feel.

Push him away, my brain coached. Then, Oh shit, my breath must be awful. My libido elbowed it aside, reaching for the wheel.

I mumbled his name, having no clue if it was the sound of a protest or a swoon. Like a nineteen-sixties secretary fielding a pass from her boss, fingering her pearls, breathless. Mr. Robak, we really mustn’t.

The back of my knee hit the mattress, but his hold kept me from falling. He put his other hand to my arm, that intense gaze watching as he pushed the sweater from my shoulder.

My heart stopped. He’d peel me like a banana if I let him. I couldn’t remember a man ever looking at me like that, like there was a Very Important Message printed on the bare skin under my clothes, and that reading it was a matter of life and death. Then Kelly’s gaze hopped to my face and I got frozen in those cold eyes. He touched my collarbone, my throat, my cheek and ear; then he cupped the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair.

He’s going to kiss you. Better decide if you want that or not.

I’d pretty much told him after the party that I didn’t want it—or didn’t want to act on it—and the fact that he was here, coming on to me this hard, should have been enough to piss me off.

But my sex drive had clubbed my better judgment unconscious and locked it in a trunk, and all that came back was, Jesus, he’s got big hands, coupled with an irrational urge to suck on his fingers.

His pale irises had grown as dark as his intentions, lids heavy. I felt my lips part in invitation, but the look he gave wasn’t one that sought permission. More a warning than a request, and I remembered again what he’d told me, about how controlling he was. I want what I want, the way I want it, my memory echoed, and my brain translated.

I f*ck who I want, where and when and exactly how I want to.

As he lowered his mouth to mine, gravity dissolved. My heart dropped to my feet and the room seemed to float, then the only force of nature left to obey was Kelly’s lips.

A soft kiss for only a moment, firmer as his grip in my hair tightened.

I shivered, wondering if this was how my sister had felt, all those times she kissed one of her terrible boyfriends, made one of her awful mistakes. If her mistakes felt half as good as Kelly’s mouth, I forgave her. Soft lips making callous suggestions. Three orderlies couldn’t have held me back.