Pinning It Down Page 7
Crap, she didn’t know. Stupid! She probably should have found that out before rushing over here. Nurses and doctors seemed to be doing it all the time, but were they breaking the hospital rules? Was she going to get a call from HR telling her she’d been let go?
Attempting to fix her neckline, she pulled a shaky breath.
Fuzzbucket. She’d finally worked out who she was and what she wanted in life, and it was about to be yanked away from her? Crap. Crap. Crap.
“Hey.” Erik snagged her wrist in a gentle grip and drew her back to him. “What’s going on?”
She shook her head. She shouldn’t have come here. She never should’ve been so stupid as to put attraction and…and…goddamn it, sexual desire ahead of her job. Despite all her self-admonishing, she’d let her old self out, she’d let her wild side take control. And what happened if Dr. Whittaker fired Erik? What if she’d destroyed his career as well as her—
Erik kissed her. Cupped her face in his strong hands and kissed her.
A long, slow, languid kiss that melted her bones again. That filled her head with nothing but pleasure and happiness and delight and oh-so-dirty longing.
When he finally pulled away, tracing his thumb over her bottom lip, he smiled. “Better?”
It was. And it wasn’t. Maybe if he kissed her again?
“Are you in trouble?” she asked “Does Dr. Whittaker know about…” Her mouth turned dry. “About us?”
He chuckled. “No. There’s a hospital board event tonight and I forgot I have to be there to schmooze.”
She blinked. “You schmooze?”
He burst out laughing then kissed her again, a quick, mischievous brushing of lips on lips. “God, I could fall in love with you, Bebe Wells.”
She froze. “Now that would be a stupid thing to do,” she said with a wobbly laugh. If only her heart would stop beating so freaking hard. How could he not hear it?
Once again, his expression turned enigmatic. “It would,” he murmured, before dropping his hands from her face. “I have to go. Which is not what I want to say right now.”
“What do you want to say right now?” She really should just shut up and get out of there.
He reached forward and, with the steady hands of the exceptional surgeon he was, re-buttoned her dress. “Climb onto my bed, Bebe, so I can fuck you senseless.”
She forced herself to roll her eyes and grin, even as his earlier words whispered through her head over and over: I could fall in love with you, Bebe Wells. “Oh, that.”
A smouldering intensity darkened his eyes for a moment. “That. Next time.”
“Okay.” What else could she say?
“I’d ask you to help me pick out a tie,” he said, as he once again lowered his hands, “but I fear I’d bend you over my bed and bury my cock into your tight pussy if you stay any longer.”
She shook her head and damn near ran towards his door. “I think I left the stove on.”
He laughed.
She was pulling the door closed behind her when he called out. “Bebe?”
Stopping, she gave him a look over her shoulder. “Doctor?”
“What time do you finish your shift tomorrow?”
She smiled. “Six.”
“Can I eat you for breakfast?”
She laughed and rolled her eyes again. “Is that the best pick-up line you’ve got?”
“I’m not picking you up. You’re already mine.” He touched a finger to the side of his neck, just above the spot where it became his shoulder. “And I’ve left my mark on your skin to prove it.”
She blinked then touched her neck. Oh God, she’d forgotten about the love bites he’d given her out on the porch.
His smile stretched, and she didn’t miss the flash of alpha-male sex god, the one she knew he could be; the one who’d told her exactly what would happen if she chose not to go earlier. The one who’d promised anytime he saw another man looking at her, he’d want to fuck her there and then to show the other guy she belonged to him.
“Hurry up and leave, Bebe,” he murmured from across the room. “Before your sweet pussy makes me say to hell with schmoozing.”
She freaking hurried up and left.
Thankfully, her clunker of a car—a Honda Civic that was brand new back when Bush Senior made headlines—didn’t do its normal thing and refuse to start the first, second, and third go. It fired up immediately. Yay.
She sped back toward Perth. Freaking out. On every level. Replaying everything that had happened, every way Erik had touched her, every word he’d said.
So they were a thing now? At least, she thought they were. Maybe that thing was entirely hung on sex, but still a thing, right? She was okay with that. Maybe…
The trouble was, after the hour they’d spent together during her rounds in Paediatrics, the sexual desire she’d always felt for him had definitely shifted into something more. She’d made the mistake of thinking she’d be able to cope with it. She’d gone to his place to hopefully live out just a sexual fantasy—making out with Dr. Murphy—but now here she was, driving away wondering if there was any chance of it being more than just “making out.” How insane was that?
Not just insane. Stupid. Foolish.
She hadn’t expected his humour that morning, or even now. She sure as hell hadn’t expected the multiple orgasms on his front porch, or to feel so…so…connected with him, in a way that had nothing to do with sex. She actually wanted to sit down and have breakfast with him, talk about work, share thoughts on the world, movies, books…
Things she’d never wanted to do with any of her previous fuck-buddies.
Or was that just the mind-blowing orgasms talking?
Letting out a sigh, she headed home. And changed her mind fifteen minutes later, redirecting her car and heading for Perth’s best café instead. She needed coffee, and cream, and vanilla syrup, and she needed a lot of it. To hell with the missing buttons on her dress. She’d just hug herself to hide them in the cafe.
“So, I just ask him,” she muttered, navigating her car into a parking spot. “‘Hey, Dr. Murphy, are we going to just be all about the sex or does this thing we’re doing also involve conversation, Netflix, eating out together, and hand-in-hand strolls along the beach?’”
A dry snort tore at the back of her throat. Like she was ever going to pluck up the courage to ask him something like that. Avoiding complicated emotional situations, that was her thing.
Although now, maybe her thing was also Erik.
And hair pulling.
A warm, tight ping fired up deep in her core at the memory of her fingers tangled in his hair…and the reason for them being there. Holy crap, she still couldn’t believe he’d gone down on her out on his front porch. What would have happened if someone came along?
Well, he clearly doesn’t care about that kind of thing, and neither should you.
Okay. She wouldn’t. What she would care about was how her heart was going to survive this.
But only between the mind-blowing sex. Couldn’t be distracted during that. It would spoil the fun.
And you’re cracking jokes about this to yourself?
Shaking her head, she smiled. Better to crack jokes than panic.
Throwing any thought of restraint to hell, she ordered her coffee—an extra-large double-shot vanilla latte with cinnamon and whipped cream—and then turned around.
“Shit!” she gasped.
Erik stood behind her, dressed in a charcoal-black suit, black shirt, and black tie. Looking so freaking hot and sexy and gorgeous, Bebe forget how to breathe for a heartbeat.
The corners of his eyes wrinkled a little as he smiled at her. “Nurse.”
“Erik. I mean, Doctor,” she corrected herself. Should she call him Erik in public? Doctor? Lover? She had no freaking clue. Not after what they’d done. Nor did she know what to say. “On your way to the hospital?”
Okay, that was stupid. Why would anyone think he was going to the hospital dressed like that?
Yeah, you’ve got fuck-all chance of surviving this.
“Coffee first?” She wanted to kiss him so much it hurt.
His smile stretched. “No,” he said. “I just needed to do this.” He cupped her face in his hands, lowered his head, and brushed his lips over hers.
Right there. In the cafe. In the line to order.
He kissed her. Gently. Tenderly.
Emphatically.
That’s it. You are one-hundred and fifty percent screwed. There’s no coming back from this.
Ever.
She might as well take out her heart and give it to him.
Goddamn it.
* * * *
He hadn’t planned on coming in here. He hadn’t planned on kissing her.
But then he saw her old Honda parked outside the cafe, and his Range Rover just seemed to come to a stop all by itself. His feet just seemed to take him into the coffee shop without him thinking about it.
And his hands just seemed to cup her face, his lips just seemed to capture hers all of their own accord.
Or maybe it was just that the second he saw her car parked at the kerb, he accepted the only place he wanted to be was with her.
So here he was, kissing her. Instead of going to dinner with Whittaker and the board.
He’d need to get there, of course. At some point. But first, kissing Bebe…
“You gonna be long, dude? Some of us want to get our coffee and go.”
Bebe started in his arms and pulled away. Turning, he threw a look over his shoulder at the owner of the distinctly familiar voice with the distinctly American accent.
Dr. John Sampson stood behind him, dressed in casual clothes. He slid a quick glance at Bebe.
“Hello, Dr. Sampson,” Bebe said.
She sounded nervous, and before Erik knew what he was doing, he smoothed his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to his side.
“I thought you hated the coffee here, Sampson,” he said with a smile. “Not Yankee enough for you.” Sampson had only been in Australia for a short while. Amazing pulmonary doctor, new to Central Perth. Nice guy, still stuck in the US though, as far as Erik could tell.
“I lost a dare.” John grinned. “Still don’t know how you all drink the stuff over here. Nor how you eat that black stuff you spread on bread. What do you call it?”
“Vegemite.” Erik laughed with a shrug. “It’s in our blood, mate.”
Sampson laughed, even as he flicked Bebe another glance.
Erik ground his teeth. Sampson wasn’t competition, not by a long shot, but that still didn’t stop Erik drawing Bebe closer when the other man smiled at her.
“I’ve seen you around the hospital,” Sampson said to her.
Bebe smiled back, and something dark and possessive licked up Erik’s spine. “I think I’m scheduled into the pulmonary ward next week.”
“You are?” Sampson grinned. “Nurse or intern?”
“Nurse.”
He grinned wider. “Excellent. That’s good.”
Good? Why was that good?
“Extra-large double-shot vanilla latte with cinnamon and whipped cream for Bebe,” the barista called.
“We’ve got to go,” Erik snarled, leading her to where her coffee waited.
Hell. He was jealous. Of John Sampson and the fact he would be working with Bebe next week. Shite.
Sampson nodded. “Hear you. I need to get my ass in gear as well. Need to prove I completed the dare.”
“Bye,” Bebe said over her shoulder as she collected her coffee.
Silent, they walked out of the cafe. Erik couldn’t miss the tension arcing between them. Nor could he miss the fact he seemed incapable of removing his arm from around her waist.
When she let out a soft laugh, he raised his eyebrow at her. “What’s funny?”
“You weren’t kidding when you said if another guy looks at me, you’re going to want to…” A devilish little smile played with her lips. “Y’know.”
“Slam you to the wall and fuck you?” he finished for her, turning her in his arms until their hips pressed together. Christ, she felt incredible, soft and warm and feminine and sexy.
“Yes.” Her smile stretched. “That.”
He shook his head. He didn’t care that people were walking past them. He didn’t care that he was running extremely late for dinner with the board. He didn’t give a rat’s arse about anything except Bebe, her lips, and how much he wanted to taste them. “I wasn’t kidding. Which wall do you want me to slam you against? The one on the right side of the cafe or the one on the left?”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Maybe the wall in your bedroom tomorrow?”
He sucked in a swift breath. Confirmation she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. Confirmation she wanted this—this powerful, undeniable, intense thing between them—to continue. He didn’t realise how much he needed to hear it until now.
“Maybe,” he lowered his head closer to hers as he smoothed his hands down her back to cup her exquisite arse, “the wall in my bedroom now?”
“Don’t you have a dinner with the hospital board to be at?”
“I’d rather have dinner with you,” he murmured, a second before kissing her.
Her lips parted and he swiped his tongue inside, hungry for her, as if he’d been starved of her for months, not just minutes.
Yeah, his place. They needed to be back in his place. Now. Even sooner. Or her place. He knew where it was, thanks to a glance at her personnel file a few months ago. It wouldn’t take as long to get there, and he needed to be inside her more than he needed air.
Breaking their kiss, he gently rested his forehead on hers. “Let’s go to your place.”
She grew still—and then wriggled out of his arms.
Shite. What did he do?
“You need to go to your dinner,” she said, taking a step away from him. “I don’t want to be responsible for you getting in trouble at work.”
A shard of something wonderful and warm sank into his chest, and he let out a shaky breath. “You’re worried about me?”
She nodded.
“Don’t be.” He reached for her hand, but she shook her head once more and skipped back a step.
“Go to your dinner, Dr. Murphy,” she ordered. The corner of her lips curled, enough for his heart to stop trying to choke him with doubt and fear, instead trying to choke him with joy.
Christ, he was falling in love with her. Maybe already in love with her? Was it possible? So quickly?
Hollywood constantly rammed down people’s throats that they could fall in love after just one date. He’d always thought it bullshit. But now… Of course, he and Bebe hadn’t been on a date. They’d had a stolen kiss, conversation over and with kids and teenagers, and the most intense making out Erik had ever experienced on his front porch…but no date.
If they went on a date, would that just seal the deal?
“Be my date then,” he said. “Come with me to the dinner.”
Come to… What the hell was he doing? What about his rule?
Which one? The one you shattered when you made her come on your porch? In your living room?
Was he completely and utterly ready to throw away the rules he’d lived his professional life by? Was he?
He thought of not being with her, and the very notion twisted like a cold fist in his gut.
She laughed. “Oh, Dr. Murphy, and here I thought you were the smart one of us.”
He frowned. He wanted her, he wanted to be with her, spend time with her. Here on the footpath, at dinner with the board, in his home, in hers. He didn’t care where, he just wanted to be with her.
Jaysus, he was in love with her. Shite.
She chuckled some more, her lips against the edge of her take-away coffee cu
p. “Me going to dinner with you is not a wise move, Erik. Go. Do your thing there. Be Dr. Erik Murphy, sexiest surgeon in Central Perth. And then, when it’s finished, if you still want to slam me against a wall, come knock on my door.”
A hot spasm claimed his cock. Hell, she was not making this easy. “I told you earlier, Bebe.” He closed the small distance she’d put between them. “You’re mine now. I’ll want to slam you against the wall and fuck you senseless every minute of every day.”
Her eyes fluttered close. “Get to dinner, Dr. Murphy. Before I throw my extra-large vanilla latte with cinnamon and cream aside and beg you to—”
He kissed her, a quick, savage kiss that promised what was to come, and then strode to his Range Rover.
She was right. He did have to go to this dinner. And if he took her, he wouldn’t care about anyone else there but her. Whittaker needed his specialists to schmooze tonight, and Erik would be incapable of doing that when all his thoughts would be on Bebe. About how much he wanted to hold her, be with her.
Love her.
Who would have thought almost getting an unwanted blow job could change his life so much?
Christ.
Chapter 6
Her mobile phone burst to life in her purse just as she let herself into her shoe-box size apartment.
“Oh my God!” Glen squealed into her ear, loud enough that Bebe winced. “You and Dr. McHot-Stuff are doing it?”
Oh fuzzbucket.
Hand still on the doorknob, Bebe scrunched up her face. “Dr Who?”
“Dr Murphy. You and Dr. Murphy! Lyndal saw you two kissing outside of the Barracks Cafe ten minutes ago.”
Fuzz. Freaking. Bucket.
“Who?”
“Lyndal Pegg. She’s one of the nurses in—It doesn’t matter! You and Dr. Murphy are a thing.” Once again, Glen’s voice hit wincing levels. “How long? Since when? Does he fuck as good as he looks? Oh my God, I need details. Tell me details now!”
Head roaring, feeling like she’d been stuffed into a safe full of cotton wool, Bebe closed her door and crossed to the closest armchair. “I’m not having sex with Dr. Murphy. I don’t know who Linda thinks she saw kissing him—”
“Lyndal.”
“But it wasn’t me. Tell Lyndal to get her eyes checked.”