The Pairing (The Proposition #3)(41)

The rain began to fall harder. Her eyelids fluttered to keep the moisture out of her eyes as she gazed up at him. His mouth hovered next to hers, his breath warming her cheek. She could barely breathe in that moment. It was like every molecule in her body was pulsing with need. Silently, she pleaded with her eyes for him to kiss her.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, he slid his lips over hers. It wasn’t the first time she had kissed him—it was just the first time she was sober and had kissed him. Now her senses were heightened, and she could experience exactly what she was feeling. His lips were tender and soft at first, and then they switched over to desperate and demanding. It was like he was breathing her in with every brush of his lips and stroke of his tongue as if to prove to himself that he truly was alive. His tongue danced along hers, causing her to moan. He brought his hands up to cup her face while her arms went around his chest, pulling him closer to her.

Drops of rain pelted her head and ran down her cheeks while Pesh’s white coat grew moist as she ran her hands up and down his back. She realized, in a dizzying flurry, that no man had ever kissed her like this before. This was like lovemaking with their mouths, and she never wanted it to end.

When Pesh finally tore his lips from hers, Megan’s breaths came in heaving pants. Her eyes opened to stare up at him. His expression turned from lust to anguish. He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Pesh, you don’t—”

He held up his hand. “Please, just go.” He turned away from her, wrapping his arms around his chest. Torn, Megan didn’t know if she should argue with him and stay or leave. “Please,” he whispered.

With her heart still beating wildly from their passionate lip-lock, she turned and fled. As she pounded back down the stairs, her emotions yo-yoed to where she felt like a watch that had been wound too tight. After bursting back through the door, Kristi met her in the hallway. Her eyes widened at Megan’s appearance.

“I, uh, I went outside on my dinner break, and it started raining,” Megan lied.

“Next time you’ll have to remember your umbrella,” Kristi replied.

Megan nodded. “Yeah, I will.”

“Why don’t you go to the break room? There’s a hair dryer under the sink. When you finish drying off, I could really use you in the supply closet doing inventory. Seems like we always almost run out of everything at once.”

“Sure. I can do that.” As Megan turned to go down the hallway, Kristi reached out and grabbed her arm.

“Is he okay?”

Megan bit down on her lip to keep a hysterical laugh from escaping. Was Pesh okay? Was she okay? Who the hell knew? One minute he’d been weeping about his wife and losing a patient, and the next he’d been liquid passion dripping on her lips. Regardless of his emotional whiplash, she’d experienced the same. She now found herself wanting more of his kisses when she shouldn’t. But it wasn’t just the kiss she wanted—she wanted all of him and not just for sex.

“No, he’s not. I guess he’s just trying to accept the loss, both past and present, as best he can,” she finally replied.

Kristi nodded in acknowledgement. When Megan felt she was free from any more questioning, she hurried down the hall to the break room. Thankfully, she found it empty. After grabbing a brush from her purse, she went to the sink to grab the hair dryer. Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, she looked a bedraggled mess. She was practically washed out except for her lips. They were swollen and bright red from Pesh’s kisses. Her finger came up to trace her bottom lip. As memories of his kisses filled her mind, she tried desperately to think of anything else.

In the end, she had gone up to the roof to somehow save Pesh, and instead, she had lost herself to him and his emotions.

Chapter Thirteen

Pesh regretfully watched Megan’s retreating form. He cursed under his breath as she disappeared into the stairwell. What was his problem? The woman had been merely comforting him, and he had allowed his libido to take over. He had promised her he would keep his distance. Regardless of the flirting and easy banter between them, he had kept things professional. Now she probably felt trapped and harassed by him. She tried to talk to him about it, and he’d dismissed her.

He paced around the rooftop as the rain that had soaked him to the bone began to dissipate. His mind was a jangled mess of thoughts and emotions. One voice argued over and over that Megan had wanted him to kiss her—that the look in her eyes told the truth. But Pesh worried that in his agony he had misread the signals she may or may not have been giving. In the end, he’d made a terrible situation even worse by not being able to control his feelings for Megan.

With a frustrated grunt, he realized he had to make things right with her. He needed to apologize. Casting one last look out over the horizon, he then turned and started for the stairwell. After pounding downstairs, he searched the hallway for any signs of Megan. When he spotted Kristi, he was surprised not to see Megan with her. “Where’s Megan?” he asked.

“Oh, since we’re kinda slow tonight, I asked her to go work in the storage closet. We’re behind on inventory and cataloguing.”

“I see.”

Kristi eyed him up and down before shaking her head. “You’re drenched.”

“It’s raining outside.”

“So I’ve heard,” she said knowingly.