“Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”
He gestured to the slate-gray couch that paralleled the fireplace and she did as she was told. He emerged from the closed bathroom moments later, dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved red shirt that clung to his skin, defining the muscles beneath. His feet were bare, and if she had ever doubted the magnitude of his sexuality she didn’t now.
She looked at her reflection in the glass of the fireplace and for the first time in years felt dull in comparison. Her barely controllable red hair, long legs and unconcealed curves and rich emerald-green eyes typically made her stand out—but not next to Tate.
He joined her on the couch and she took a sip of the cool dry wine to calm herself. “So why is it that the most beautiful and sought-after woman in the hospital is alone on Valentine’s Day?”
Beautiful? Did he really think she was the most beautiful woman in the hospital? Sought-after? Did that mean he believed the rumors that she’d used her beauty to get ahead of her peers? Looking into the cool green of his eyes, she saw no malice in the comment but she wasn’t prepared to answer truthfully none the less. She was alone on Valentine’s Day because the only man she was attracted to and had had feelings for in the past three years was sitting beside her and up until a few months ago had been taken by her best friend.
“I could ask you the same thing,” she replied, trying to keep their conversation light and her feelings hidden. Tate was off-limits. He had been as Kate’s boyfriend and he still was as Kate’s ex.
“You think I’m beautiful?” He smiled, a teasing glint in his eye.
“I think you’re sought-after,” she answered, envisioning the trail of nurses who seemed to materialize around him.
“Not by everyone.” His tone had changed and his eyes had darkened almost imperceptibly. She knew he was thinking of her best friend Kate, his ex-girlfriend—the one that had got away.
Regret and frustration coursed through her. She hadn’t meant to bring up Kate, but truthfully she was always there between them. She had met Tate when he and Kate had started dating, and had been horrified when she’d realized her feelings for him went beyond friendship. It had been like a cruel torture. The closer he had become with Kate, the more she had gotten to know him, the more her feelings had grown, and the more unattainable he had become.
Kate and Tate’s breakup had been bittersweet. She no longer had to conceal her feelings but she had also lost her connection to the man she was falling for.
Chloe felt as if she was burning up and moved to take off the black sweater wrap that she had layered over a long-bodied tank top. The long-sleeved tailed garment had been wrapped around her tightly against the winter cold and she felt flustered in her attempt to disentangle herself from it. Strong hands covered hers, stilling her actions, before he moved on to untying the knot in the tails, his hands sure and steady as he opened the garment and slipped it from her shoulders. In doing so the tips of his fingers brushed against her bare skin, the action causing shockwaves to course down her body. She shuddered in response.
“I thought you were too warm—are you cold?” Tate asked.
No trace of his self-defeat was left, and Chloe felt as if she had one hundred percent of his attention.
“No.”
He rested his hands back on her bare arms, as if to check her temperature himself, and once again she trembled in response.
“You did it again.” He was analyzing her, trying to make sense of her reactions.
“I know.” What else could she say? She might not be able to control her body’s reactions to him, but at least she could control her words.
His hands moved up her body, his fingers pressing into the muscles of her neck while his thumbs brushed against her cheeks. Cool mineral-green eyes stared at her hard before his lips parted. “Why are you here, Chloe?”
She closed her eyes and savored the feeling, waiting for their connection to break. She didn’t want to answer the question, but she had no choice.
“Because you asked me.” She opened her eyes to find Tate’s entire attention focused on her, and she felt naked underneath his intense gaze. The only part of her body he touched was her neck and her face, but it was as though she could feel him all over, with every part of her body yearning to be touched by him.
“Why?” he asked, not pulling her toward him but not releasing her from his hold.
There were so many reasons that she couldn’t describe them, and she wasn’t sure he would understand.
She wet her lips that suddenly seemed as dry as the desert and dared to match his gaze. “Does it matter?”
The look in his eyes changed slightly, and there was a barely perceptible turn of his head. “Not tonight.”
Her lips parted in response, but before the words came out his mouth came down on hers. His lips were hard against hers and he used them to tug and draw her lower lip to him. As she moaned he moved inside her, his tongue exploring and tasting what she offered. Never had she been kissed like this, and she felt helpless to hold back—not that she wanted to.
She turned her body towards him and wrapped her arms around him, her fingers moving through his hair and pressing into his scalp. He kissed her harder, deeper, his fingers tangling in her hair, while his other hand trailed the length of her back. She arched in response to his touch, pressing herself against him and increasing their contact.
As suddenly as the kiss had started Tate broke away from her and stood from the couch. The hand he extended toward her quickly pacified her sense of loss. Without words, she placed her hand in his and let him pull her from the couch. She trailed him as he led her to the bedroom platform. At the edge of the bed she watched him pull off the shirt that she’d thought left little to the imagination—until she saw him in the flesh. Every muscle was perfect and defined. She reached out and let her fingers softly move over the strong breadth of his shoulders, his chest, and then along his washboard abdomen until they ended at the top of his belt and jeans.
He started in the same place, his hands moving around her waist as his fingers grabbed enough fabric to pull the tank top from her body. She had never felt self-conscious about her body, but at that moment she felt very aware of the state of her own arousal. Tate’s hand encircled her waist again, but this time over the bare skin he had exposed. She shuddered at the heat she felt coming from his touch and felt him pull her to him in response.
“Definitely not cold,” she heard him whisper as his warm breath surged against her neck. His lips followed as he found her weakness, each kiss and taste stoking the fires within her. She dug her fingers into his sides and pulled him back to her and was rewarded by the hard ridge that pressed into her.
He released his hold on her as he stepped back, just far enough to remove his jeans. He held her eyes as he did the same with hers, until she was standing before him in her blue lace bra and underwear. He didn’t close the distance between them and she watched his eyes trail up and down her body. It was excruciating anticipation, and she didn’t know how to express what she wanted, so she echoed his earlier action and held out her hand.
He didn’t take it. Instead her palm made contact with his bare chest as he reached behind her and unfastened her strapless bra. Her swollen breasts spilled out as the garment fell to the floor. She felt his fingertips brush against the sides of her breasts, then her waist, until they reached her hips and the small strings of her underwear before they too were tugged from her body. He didn’t leave her naked alone, stripping himself of his last remaining article of clothing with no modesty until he stood equally naked before her.
She gasped as he lifted her up