Everything I Need, page 13
“Sir?” One of his security people materialized at his elbow and spoke in his ear, probably to hurry him along because he still had several people to meet. “We need to—”
“One second,” Anthony said, holding up that index finger and sparing his security guy a quick glance before returning his attention to Melody. “You Americans are quite seditious, aren’t you?”
“It’s a bad habit, I admit,” she said.
“And how are you enjoying Africa, Dr. Harrison? Your first time, I believe?”
She sighed helplessly. “Africa is spectacular. I think it might even be life-changing.”
“Indeed.” His gaze lingered on her face, a loving touch almost as tangible as the stroke of his fingers across her cheek. “I’m sure you’re right. Will you be staying here long?”
“No. I’m heading to a lodge about an hour from here for some animal watching. Skytops. Have you heard of it?”
“I have heard of it. I’ve always wanted to go.” His voice turned husky. “I’m certain it would be the adventure of a lifetime.”
“Sir…” the security person said, edging closer again.
Anthony blinked. Shuttered all of his smoldering intensity and nodded crisply, recapturing his aura of professionalism. “Well. I hope you have a wonderful vacation, Dr. Harrison. And thank you in advance for all the brilliant work you’ll do at the hospital.”
She nodded and did her best to swallow the gathering lump in her throat. It didn’t do any good to remind herself that she’d see him again tonight at the lodge. They spent far too much of their time telling each other good-bye.
“Thank you,” she said, trying to match his briskness. “It’s a pleasure meeting you.”
Anthony nodded, turned to Dr. Katika and gestured for him to lead the way to the next group for the meet and greet. “Shall we?”
With some difficulty, Dr. Katika, who had witnessed the entire exchange, dragged his gaping lower jaw up off the ground, blinked, shot Melody a speculative look and headed off.
“This way, sir. Over here, we have the…”
Anthony looked back over his shoulder at Melody.
“I’ll see you later, darling,” he murmured in his silkiest voice, for her ears alone.
She almost swooned.
He really had the most remarkable eyes she’d ever seen. The fact that they’d looked twice at her was a mystery she’d have to ponder another day.
“Later, Blue Eyes.”
Anthony went very still. His gaze, hard and searching, held on tight and refused to let her go. He hesitated. Opened his mouth—
“A-hem.” Dr. Katika said loudly from several feet away, where he’d evidently just realized that Anthony wasn’t right on his heels. “Anthony? Are you with me?”
“Of course,” Anthony said, walking off without a backward glance at Melody.
* * *
Now here she was, waiting for him.
She checked her watch, wishing she’d thought to ask him how far away he was and how long he’d be. It was about an hour to the lodge from the hospital, so it probably wasn’t—
Hang on. Were those footsteps outside her door? And muffled male voices?
Sure enough.
“You’re going to love your room, sir,” said a local man.
“I’m sure I will.” Anthony’s voice carried more than a touch of impatience. “But I’m happy to take it from here—”
“It’s no trouble at all, sir.”
She had just enough time to duck out of sight on the balcony (she wasn’t exactly dressed to greet anyone but Anthony at the moment and they were trying to keep a low profile) before the front door swung open and a bellman strode in carrying Anthony’s bags.
Anthony was hot on his heels. While the bellman busied himself placing the luggage just so, Anthony quickly scanned the room, spotted her making a valiant attempt to blend in with the fluttery drapes and positioned himself to block her from the bellman’s view as he turned back to Anthony and handed him the key.
“Dinner is at eight.”
“Appreciate that.” Anthony clapped a hand on the man’s shoulders and steered him back to the door. “I’ll call the front desk if I need anything else.”
The man looked a little startled. “I’m supposed to open the champagne for you.”
“Don’t trouble yourself.” Anthony slapped a tip into the man’s hand, ushered him back to the door and opened it for him. “Thank you so much. Have a lovely evening.”
“But—”
Anthony gently but firmly shut the door in the man’s face. Locked it.
Grinning at Anthony’s delightful display of impatience, she edged out from her hiding place and stood where she was, knowing full well that the setting sun backlit every inch of her barely dressed body.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” he said on a shaky exhale.
They stared at each other.
She greedily noted everything about him.
The gleaming hair. The sun-kissed color in his cheeks. His avid gaze as it skimmed her from head to toe, lingering on a few key points (her aroused nipples; her belly; her pussy; her bare legs) in between.
“You’re looking very serious,” she noted quietly, her heart pounding.
“I, ah…” He hesitated. Took a deep breath. “The thing is…I thought I was doing pretty well in life. But I can’t figure out how I got lucky enough to have you here with me.”
This was not the ideal moment for ghosts from her past to show up to the party, but they crept in like a group of underaged teens trying to sneak past the bouncer and into some hot club.
She thought of the guy in college who’d seemed to like her, but had never wanted to introduce her to his buddies. The blind dates who’d done their poor best to keep their game faces on when she showed up, then stared uncomfortably at her scar for the rest of the night, too distracted to carry their half of the getting-to-know-you chitchat. The people who stared at her on the street, the murmuring commenters who thought she couldn’t hear them when they said, as they always said, she’d be so pretty if she didn’t have that scar.
And now this.
Him.
“There’s a lot of luck going around today,” she said, unexpected tears making her voice husky. “Are you going to kiss me?”
Long hesitation.
“In a minute.” He gestured vaguely over his shoulder at the bathroom. “I need to shower first. You look amazing, yet I probably smell like one of the elephants out by the watering hole at this point.”
She laughed, incredulous, as she came closer.
“You think I care about whether you showered or not? When you came and took care of me when I had the flu? I am so hot for you right now.” Just in case he wasn’t getting the message, she let her head fall back and sifted her fingers through her hair and down either side of her neck. Palmed her breasts, squeezing them together. Ran her hands over her sex, making herself gasp and her flesh leap as frissons of sensation sparked between her thighs. “Don’t make me wait. I can’t wait.”
“Christ,” he said, looking to the ceiling fan hanging from the rafters. “You don’t make things easy for a fellow, do you?”
She laughed. “I don’t know how much clearer I can make this: I don’t want easy.”
Her challenge thus issued, she tipped up her chin and started to wrap her hands around his neck.
He tensed with a muttered curse, caught her wrists in a hard grip and lowered her hands between them. She had him tiptoeing along the edge of his limit, which was right where she wanted him. It was all there in the rigid planes of his face, shallow breathing and glittering, speculative eyes.
“Perhaps I need to cool you down a bit first.” His voice, so throaty and resonant now, made nerve endings tingle to life as though he’d trailed a feather down her inner arm. “Hmm? Would you like that?”
“I need that,” she said helplessly. “I need that.”
He laughed, a hoarse sound of triumph and anticipation, and freed her hands.
Then he reached for her.
12
Anthony kissed her with all the pent-up urgency she felt. Hot. hard. Deep. His insistent mouth made its way across her lips, claiming and demanding until she felt raw and breathless, coaxing until he’d wrought every helpless mewl out of her and left her with nothing but dazed amazement.
No one else kissed like this, alternately nipping and sucking with such relentless skill that it was hard to keep up. She clung to him, locking her arms around his neck and sifting her fingers through his hair as she delved for the warmth of his scalp beneath.
She was so enthralled with everything about him, so delirious with the thrill of his unyielding arms sliding down to hold her around the waist and the hard slabs of his chest against her throbbing nipples, that she barely registered that they were moving.
Until he backed her into the bed, caught her wrists again, broke the endless kiss and pulled free of her grasping hands.
They stared at each other for one stunned moment, trying to catch their breath. His glittering gaze dipped to her lips. She involuntarily licked them. With a rough groan, he lowered his head and let his tongue glide into her mouth, slow and easy this time.
Her inner muscles clenched, damn near making her come on the spot.
And that was before his talented hands stroked their way up her torso and hovered, feather-light, on the sides of her breasts.
She could take a lot of things, but she couldn’t take that.
Breaking the kiss, she covered his hands with hers and tried to move them over a few inches, to her achy nipples.
But he let her go and eased back enough to stare her in the face.
“Lie down,” he said.
She didn’t need telling twice. She reached for the bottom of her caftan first, starting to sweep it off—
“Leave it.”
Startled, she hesitated with the hem bunched up around her waist.
He watched her in utter stillness, his color high and his jaw set.
She left it.
Never breaking his gaze, she eased back against the pillows and started to stretch out—
Looming over her, he made a rough sound of impatience as he grabbed her hips and deftly dragged her to the edge of the bed so that her toes grazed the floor.
Most of the air whooshed out of Melody’s lungs.
The remaining little bit also disappeared once he knelt on the floor, eased between her thighs and ran his hands down the front of her body.
There was something wonderfully illicit about being dressed in clothes that covered her up and yet were thin enough to allow her to truly feel and enjoy his touch. Something deliciously erotic about the way his hands and the fabric slid over her skin, making her belly quiver and her nipples pucker. Something thrillingly X-rated about the way he looked up the length of her body at her face, his eyes an unblinking blaze of blue as he reached under the caftan, hooked his thumbs under the sides of her lacy white bikinis and slid them down her legs and off while she wriggled to help him.
“How are you feeling now, Dr. Harrison?” he murmured, skimming a thumb over her manicured patch of hair. “Any cooler?”
Shaky laugh. “Not exactly.”
“Hmm,” he said, lowering his head as he used thumb and forefinger to open her up and expose her clit to his skilled lips. “I’ll have to see what I can do about that.”
He could do a lot, as it turned out.
He anchored her hips in his firm grip and pressed his slick tongue to the exact perfect spot she needed. Worked her with his mouth, applying a steady and rhythmic pressure and doing the same thing over and over, into infinity. She cried out in a strangled attempt at his name. It was also a plea for him to let her go and leave her alone because she couldn’t take it. Oh, and also for him to never ever stop, no matter what she said or did.
She tensed and gripped his head, holding him in place until her spiraling need caught up with her growing languor. Her breath caught. She teetered on the edge of that cliff for one endless second of anticipation until the balance tipped and she hurtled through space.
She stiffened and then slackened into ecstasy, his name pouring out of her mouth.
He made his way up her body with nuzzles and kisses, paying special attention to her belly button, each nipple and her scar. She cooed for him, her eyes rolling closed as she melted into the sensations. He loved the damaged side of her throat the hardest, wringing even more pleasure from her body via the sensitive tendons in her neck.
When he finally made it to her mouth, helpless tears burned the backs of her eyes. It took a lifetime’s supply of courage to open her lids, look him in the face and let him see what he did to her.
He met her gaze with heat. Quiet male satisfaction. Open adoration.
“Was that good, darling?” he asked, kissing away a tear as it fell and trailed down her temple.
“So good.”
“Am I allowed to shower now?”
She snorted back a laugh. “Just be quick about it. And you owe me an apology for ruining everything with your funky smell.”
He burst into laughter as he toed off his shoes and worked on his belt.
“My funky smell?”
“Hurry,” she said, pointing to her watch. “Tick-tock.”
He disappeared into the bathroom with his overnight bag, still chuckling, and returned just as she’d caught her second wind. The instant she heard the rattle of the bathroom doorknob, she rolled onto her side and propped her head on her hand, determined not to miss a single detail about his entrance.
She was not disappointed.
He appeared amid a cloud of earthy and sophisticated-smelling steam, tall and lean with muscles rippling in his arms and across his torso as he wrapped a towel around his waist. His hair was wet. Actually, all of him was wet. Water droplets dotted his broad shoulders and trailed through his cornsilk-dusted chest, grooved abs and notched hips, disappearing beneath the towel to intriguing parts below. He had the shapely calves of a lifelong soccer player and good feet in flip flops.
A promising erection tented the front of the towel.
They stared at each other.
She wasn’t shy about checking him out.
He wasn’t bashful about letting her look.
He seemed relaxed but alert, ready and willing to return any volley she cared to send his way.
“You’re very sexy,” she told him in a husky voice that sounded, to her ears at least, as though she’d stolen it from some other woman.
“You think so?” he asked quietly, unsmiling as he turned out the bathroom light and came closer. “I believe you called me Blue Eyes earlier. Is that my new nickname?”
“Or just Blue. I thought I’d try it out.”
“Hmm. I thought Sinatra had had Blue Eyes copyrighted.”
She shrugged, levered herself up and settled on her knees. “Maybe, but he’s Ol’ Blue Eyes.”
“And I am…?”
“Sexy Blue Eyes.” She cocked her head and thought it over. “Although, to be fair, Sinatra was also very sexy.”
His attempted glare only deepened his dimples as he reached the bed.
“Not as sexy as me, surely.”
She somehow managed not to look away as the blush streaked across her face.
“No one’s as sexy as you.”
His breath hissed.
Time to make her move.
“Oh, no. You’re wet,” she said, trailing her fingertips down his chest and across his belly. “I can’t let you in the bed like that.”
“My current state is your fault.” He shivered, goose bumps erupting all over his skin. “You barely let me out of your sight to shower. I didn’t dare test your mood by taking the time to dry off, did I?”
She reached for his towel. Slowly unwrapped it.
“You don’t mind if I borrow this, do you?”
He swallowed hard.
“Not at all,” he said softly.
Never breaking eye contact, she rubbed one arm dry. The other arm. His chest. His belly, taking great care not to go any lower.
She had his rapt attention.
“Turn around,” she told him.
The soul of compliance, he turned and presented her with a delightful view of those wide shoulders and a toned back tapering to narrow hips on the sides and flaring to an ass that was high and tight.
She loved that ass. Thank God for soccer.
She rubbed him with the towel again, running it down the perfect curve of his spine and over the dimples right above where back gave way to ass. And then, because she couldn’t resist, she let her lips and tongue follow the same trail.
But she couldn’t do what she wanted to do while kneeling on the bed. So she gently pushed him forward a step or two, stood and ran the towel around front, to his groin. If she was a bit rougher about a few lingering strokes while she dried him there, he didn’t seem to mind. Not judging from the sudden catch in his breath or the way his lungs began to heave.
Nor did he raise a protest when she squatted, squeezed his balls and bit his ass.
In fact, his earthy and unabashed groan and the way he shuddered seemed to suggest that he loved it.
But of course the only way to test her theory was to do it again, on the other side.
A shocked cry this time. The strangled sound of her name on his lips. Which made her wonder what other reactions she could incite and how best to incite them.
One thing in particular quickly came to mind.
“I think I want to taste you,” she said, standing and hugging him from behind, grateful for the chance to rub her face and nipples, which were starting to ache again, against his warm golden skin. “How does that sound?”
Shaky laugh from Anthony. “I think it sounds like you’re trying to finish me off.”
That made her laugh. “I am trying to finish you off. Duh.”
“Yes, but you’re also trying to do me in,” he said grimly.
“Poor thing.” She propelled him toward the nearest wicker chair, trying to smother her laugh. “You’re just a victim, aren’t you?”
