The Doctor's Baby Bombshell. Jennifer TaylorЧитать онлайн книгу.
but she still wanted him. He could see it in her eyes, see the longing, the yearning, and he understood how she felt because he felt it too. Oh, he hadn’t lived like a monk these past two years—far from it. He’d been out with a lot of women, even slept with a few, and it had been fine in a way. However, each and every time he had found himself comparing them to Zoë, and unfavourably too.
He needed to break the cycle, forget what he and Zoë had had, and this may be the only way to do it. If he slept with her tonight, he could rid himself of the last emotional ties. It wouldn’t be using her, either, because he could tell it was what she needed too. Zoë needed to draw a line under the past the same as he did.
Reaching out, he captured her hand. ‘It’s a beautiful room, Zoë, the perfect place for two lovers to spend a night. I only wish we could spend tonight there. You and me. Together. It could be our swansong, the perfect ending to what we once meant to each other.’
Soft light filled the room, casting shadows into the corners. Dinner had been served and eaten, although neither of them had done justice to the delicious meal. Zoë caught a glimpse of herself in the window as she drew the curtains and was surprised by how calm she looked, how in control. Inside she was a mess, anticipation making her nerves tingle, her blood heat, her body tremble as though she had a fever. Maybe she did, too, and that’s why she had agreed to this. Spending the night with Ben for any reason was madness: she knew it and so must he.
She spun round to tell him that she had changed her mind and stopped. Ben was sitting on the sofa, his eyes closed, his face looking set even in repose. He was as worried as she was about what they were planning and the realisation comforted her in a strange way. Ben was under no illusions. He knew this night would mark the end for them.
The thought left her feeling empty, but she had learned a long time ago how to conquer her emotions. She went over to the couch, sat down and took Ben’s hand in hers. His eyelids flickered although he didn’t open his eyes. Maybe he needed a second or two more to prepare himself, and she understood. In that respect they were perfectly in tune.
Her heart filled with warmth and if she was honest it also filled with love but that was the most dangerous of all emotions and one she rarely acknowledged. Sliding her fingers between his, she let her palm rest against his, enjoying the warmth of his skin, the shape and strength of his fingers—so different to her own. Ben had such beautiful hands and she had always loved to have him touch her, stroke her, caress her…
Her breath caught on an audible hiss and his eyes opened. Zoë felt a shaft of desire run through her when she saw the expression they held. Ben wanted her. He wanted to make her his and have her make him hers. He wanted it so badly that she could feel his desire for her swirling around them as they sat there, side by side, their fingers entwined.
‘Are you sure about this, Zoë? Really sure?’ His tone was filled with passion and tenderness in equal measure. Zoë’s heart swelled because it was more than she’d expected and far more than she deserved.
‘Yes.’ Her tone was cool and she felt relieved when she heard it. She was still in control, still able to function on other levels instead of on only the most basic. ‘It’s what I want, Ben, but are you sure it’s what you want?’
‘Yes. I’m sure.’ He leant forward and brushed her mouth with his lips. ‘It’s what I need to do.’
He deepened the kiss, effectively cutting short any further discussion, although Zoë would have been hard-pressed to string two words together. It felt as though her brain had stopped functioning, thoughts flitting about her head in no particular order. Her nerve endings were working fine, though, messages zipping back and forth, allowing her to enjoy every moment of the kiss, to savour their closeness, to revel in the desire that had risen inside her like a hot tide.
She gave a little murmur as she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew his head down so that she could kiss him back with equal fervour. She heard him groan as her lips parted, felt the hot sweet rush of pleasure when his tongue slid inside her mouth and groaned too because it was an overture to what would come later. When his hands slid down her sides, following the curves of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips, she shuddered. Just the feel of his hands through her clothes was enough to incite her passion.
He drew back, resting his forehead against hers as he dragged in several rough breaths that made his chest rise and fall enticingly against her breasts. Zoë could feel her nipples harden as the muscles in his torso brushed against them, and sighed. She’d always been embarrassingly responsive where Ben was concerned and nothing had changed.
‘Wow! I know I should come up with something more erudite, but that sums it up better than anything else. A great big fat wow!’
‘Then I suppose wow will have to do.’ Zoë laughed, wondering how she’d forgotten what fun Ben could be even in the throes of passion. Tilting back her head, she regarded him through narrowed eyes, enjoying the fact that she felt comfort¬ able enough to tease him. ‘Think about this very carefully before you reply. Was the kiss as good as it used to be?’
‘Better,’ he said firmly, taking her back into his arms and holding her so close that she could feel his heart beating in counterpoint to hers. ‘The fact that we’re no longer under such pressure to make our relationship work makes all the difference.’
Zoë wasn’t sure what to make of that idea but he didn’t give her time to dwell on it. When he pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, she relaxed against him, giving herself up to the delight of being in his arms again. He kissed every inch of her face and her neck then started to work his way down her body, unhooking buttons and unzipping zips, easing her out of her clothes with so little fuss that it was a moment before she realised that all she had on was a pair of panties and they were soon dispensed with.
‘You’re very good at this undressing lark,’ she whispered, feeling decidedly overexposed seeing as Ben was still wearing his clothes.
‘Aren’t I just?’ His handsome face filled with laughter as he planted a kiss on her nose. ‘I’ve had a lot of practice.’
‘Thanks to all the women you’ve undressed lately,’ she muttered, not appreciating the thought of Ben and a series of unknown women in various states of undress.
‘No, thanks to all the patients I’ve undressed.’ He kissed her again, looking a little smug about getting a rise out of her.
‘You have nurses to do that for you,’ she retorted, resenting his teasing and what had prompted it. She had no right to feel jealous at the thought of him and other women when she had rejected him, but she did.
‘I do.’ He smiled into her eyes. ‘But I’ve always preferred a hands-on approach, if you remember?’
She remembered all right, recalled in glorious detail what his hands could do—exactly what they were doing now. Zoë closed her eyes as she felt his clever fingers stroking her skin and setting off a whole chain of reactions. When he ran the tip of his finger down the hollow between her breasts, she gasped. When he let it trail across her right nipple, she moaned. When it found her belly button and dipped in and out, she wriggled invitingly because she knew where it would be heading next.
The thought sent a rush of desire coursing through her, a feeling she hadn’t experienced in very a long time. Although she had no intention of letting Ben know it, she hadn’t slept with anyone else in the past two years. She’d had offers, of course—several highly personable men, doctors she worked with in Paris, had asked her out, but she had refused their invitations. She’d told herself that she hadn’t wanted any complications in her life, but now she realised the truth was far more complex: she hadn’t wanted anyone except Ben.
Tears filled her eyes as he lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. He laid her down on the huge old-fashioned bed with a gentleness that spoke volumes about the man he was. Ben had loved her, cared for her, wanted only for her to be happy. She’d known that and had fought against it. If she had accepted what he’d wanted to give her, she would never have been able to leave him, never been able to