PATIENT CARE (Medical Romance) (Doctor Series) by Bobby Hutchinson

foil-sealed packet he’d optimistically placed there.
    She wasn’t wearing stockings. Her skin was hot and silky, her panties a scrap of satin low on her hips. With shaking hands, he hooked his thumbs under the elastic and slipped them down long, smooth legs.
    He took her breast in his mouth, touched her with his fingers. She was wild and hot and wet. She cried out, and all thought but one left him.
    He would die if he didn’t take her now.
    Her hips reared, inviting, and he had just enough sense left to open the condom and roll it into place before he slid inside her in one long, urgent thrust, then paused, desperate to hold on until she could join him.
    But she moved, and moved again, and he felt her start to shatter beneath him an instant before he abandoned himself to the swirling ecstasy.
     
    Melissa lay still, letting the rippling aftershocks shiver through her. The carpet wasn’t half as soft under her naked back as it felt to bare feet. His weight wasn’t fully on her; he’d twisted slightly, resting an elbow on the floor, but still his long, muscular body was heavy. She could feel his heart still hammering, feel his breathing gradually slowing down.
    “I guess it didn’t matter that the bed wasn’t made,” she said. “But I should have vacuumed this rug.”
    He gave a soft laugh. “As soon as I get my breath back, we’ll move,” he promised.
    “Where to next?” She felt euphoric, and more than a little giddy. “There’s the kitchen table, the couch, the countertop—maybe the washer and dryer?” What had happened between them was too powerful to think about just yet. She needed foolishness to bridge the time between then and now.
    “Ever considered the bed?”
    “Oh, well, if you insist.” She made her tone haughty. “Not very creative of you, though.”
    He propped himself up on his elbows and trailed a kiss across her shoulder. “So it’s creativity you want? Well, I’ll have to see what I can improvise. It’ll take practice.” He moved against her, aroused again.
    “Ah, persistence, I like that in a man. And maybe the bed’s not a bad idea, after all.”
    He got up and held out a hand, helping her to her feet. They stepped over the scattered clothing, and she led him down the hall. They passed the bathroom and caught sight of themselves, naked and flushed, in the large mirror over the sink.
    "Think we should have a portrait done, for over the fireplace?”
    “Christmas cards,” Melissa decided. “For everyone at St. Joe’s.”
    They were laughing when they reached the bedroom. Melissa switched on a bedside lamp, and James surveyed the room.
    “You were just trying to discourage me. The bed’s made and there’s not a scrap of clothing anywhere.”
    “That’s only because my cleaning service came today. I was describing the way it normally looks,” she told him. “So you wouldn’t get such a shock the next time.” Oops . Melissa felt her face get hot. That hadn’t been a smart thing to say. She didn’t want him to think she was building an entire relationship on a one-night stand.  Was that what this was, a one-night stand?
    He grabbed her and tumbled her onto the bed.  “Try and keep me away,” he growled, lowering his head and biting her chin.
    “Now, about that creative stuff...”

Chapter Thirteen
     
    Melissa awoke Saturday morning in his arms. It was early.  The gray light coming through the shades told her the sun wasn’t up, and it was still cool in the bedroom; she’d opened the windows wide.
    He was snoring softly each time he exhaled. She liked that he snored.  It made him seem vulnerable. It was another intimate thing to know about him.
    She felt blissful and wickedly lazy. She lay without moving, savoring the pleasure of his heavy arm across her midriff, the feel of his warm body against her side, the delicious, musky odor of his skin and their lovemaking. He was sprawled on his stomach, head turned toward her, and she turned a little and studied