‘Hey, a guy’s always got room for improvement.’
‘We’ll see about that.’ Grabbing his condoms from the bedside-table drawer, he paused and looked at her. Realised he didn’t want hot and quick. Wanted long and slow. And maybe again tomorrow.
He shook those kinds of thoughts from his head—useless and pointless. People walked through his life, no one ever stayed for long. That was how it worked for him. And for Gabby, too, it seemed. ‘Are you sure?’
Placing her hands on his chest, she frowned. ‘I want you to know this is not something I’ve done in a very long time. I don’t usually … you know … do this … I am on the Pill but, yes, definitely use a condom.’
She seemed hesitant. Maybe the alcohol was wearing off. Good call—he wanted her head to be in full working order if they were going to do this. No regrets for either of them. He brought her fingertips to his mouth. ‘It’s okay, you know. I could take you home. We don’t have to do this.’
‘Oh, yes, we do. You promised me hot and quick.’ Gabby’s courage had begun to waver, but her need to have him hadn’t diminished. No, siree.
Running her hands over his back towards his waist, she pulled him to her and crushed her lips against his. A surge of heat spiralled through her from the small of her back to the top of her head. Mr I’m Sexy was so different from any other man she’d kissed. Not that there’d been many—she’d made sure of that.
Dumb, really, that on today of all days she was doing this. When she should be staying away from any kind of risk. But the headier the risk, the more her body wanted to take it. Take him. Now. And nothing was going to stop her finally taking something for herself.
Because, for the first time in forever, she felt absolutely, totally free.
Scragging his shirt over his head, she slicked kisses down his hard chest, over a smattering of hair, across hard muscle. He pressed against her as he shucked off his jeans. His hands grasped her hips, slipping off her pants, fingers reaching her inner thigh.
For a moment she stiffened, worried about what could happen. If she even knew what to do now. If she would be enough for him. What would happen afterwards. Tried to put out of her mind what had happened last time she’d done this.
But unlike last time she wasn’t an innocent grasping at a fairytale, looking for an escape and dreaming about happy ever after—this time she knew exactly where she was headed. Sex. Need. No promises. No illusions. She was a woman, powerful and in control.
His hands stroked her skin and it felt as if he was stroking her insides too. And she wanted more. His kisses heated her. Banished the cold she’d felt for so long. Stoked the fire that raged from her belly to her breasts and that didn’t stop … couldn’t stop … wouldn’t stop until he was inside her.
Then there he was, edging into her, telling her to relax, calling her beautiful over and over. Until she truly believed she could be. His breathing quickened and his words stopped, and all she could hear was their sighs and the thud of her heart and the blood pounding round her veins. Until he took her over the edge, and all sounds splintered into one explosion of shuddering joy.
A perfect ten.
A harsh, tinny tune jolted Max awake. His first instinctive reaction was to feel across the duvet for the uncompromising Gabby.
His second was to reach for his phone.
God, he was doomed.
And she was gone. He’d opened his eyes and she’d disappeared, just like she’d promised. Which irritated him more than it should have. Most women wanted him to stay, had always been put out when he’d made up his excuses and left.
He’d never had the time or the inclination to invest in anything longer than a fling. And he’d certainly never given any woman time to do the walking—he’d had enough of people he loved disappearing from his life already.
But the room still smelt of her scent. The sheets did. And so did he.
His phone blared again.
Focusing on the lurid green message, his heart began to race. Jamie.
A rising temperature less than twenty-four hours post-op. Dipped urine output. Distressed kid.
Within minutes he was on the HDU, trying to keep his voice in check so as not to spook Jamie’s mum, Jodi. He scratched his head as he approached the bed, still unused to her being round again after so long.
It was weird enough when Mitch had dated Max’s ex. But even more awkward to have her back in his life, at his work after so long. Not that anything lingered between them anymore, except his wish they could all move on. But Jodi’s hurt was still there, along with his brother’s betrayal. Unmentioned. Unresolved. Like everything with Mitch.
His attempts not to growl at the surgical on-call house officer disappeared along with any trace of post-damned-fine-sex good humour.
‘I need full blood and urine screens, swab drain and catheter sites, keep an eye on central venous pressure and his blood pressure. How long has his temp been this high?’
‘An hour, maybe two.’
‘And you waited to tell me. Why? I said I was to be contacted immediately if there was a change in his condition.’
‘I thought we could control it. I was hoping the paracetamol would hold it in check.’
‘Since when does paracetamol hold an infection in check? You wanted to mask the symptoms and not investigate them. Pretend he hasn’t got a problem, right? Great.’ God, he was surrounded by.
He took a breath. It was the middle of the night. They were tired. He was tired. And poor Jamie. Thick, dark shadows edged the little boy’s eyes as he stared up at them.
Max’s heart squeezed. He never allowed himself to feel anything but professional concern for his patients. But Jamie? Jamie was special. He was the sticking plaster they needed to stick them all back together. They hadn’t come this far for the kid to get sick again. Not on his watch, anyway.
He should never have left them this evening. Even though he’d been exhausted by the surgeries and countless demands on his time.
He shouldn’t have gone to the bar. Even though he’d left clear and strict instructions with his staff.
He shouldn’t have taken Gabby to his apartment. Just in case something like this happened.
So that was a mistake he wasn’t going to repeat. He didn’t need a hefty dose of guilt to add to his conscience.
Although Jodi was a doctor, he tried to explain the turn of events in everyday language. Knowing that in the middle of a long night, with spiralling concern, technical terms wouldn’t be much use.
‘Jamie’s got a spiking temperature. Which could mean one of a few things. Pneumonia, urine infection or just something sticky at the drain sites.’
‘Or it could be rejection, right?’ Her palm covered her mouth as she held in the tears Max knew she wanted to shed.
Accelerated acute rejection—death of the kidney soon after operation. He didn’t want to imagine it.
He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder as he would with any other patient’s relative, but did she think that was strange coming from him? So far he’d played out the ex card pretty well, but everything normally clear-cut had become muddied. He focused instead on upholding his professional manner. Hiding behind that was preferable to dealing with emotions.
‘It’s a very real possibility, but he has a reasonable urine output. We’re doing a blood scan and antibody check. Honestly, it could be anything. It’s quite common to have some sort of low-grade infection post-op. So we’ll increase the antibiotics and titrate his fluid input. That should