Wicked: Whispering Cove, Book 3 (5 page)

“We’re going to have to get him to the hospital. He’ll need x-rays.”

“I don’t trust the medics.” Lynda shoved through the door onto the sidewalk. “You shouldn’t be without your cell. People depend on you.”

“I know.” Danica patted her pockets as they rounded the corner that would lead to the inn and Rodney.
Shit.
She hadn’t missed the phone since most people either made appointments through her main line or hunted her down, but she knew where she’d had it last.

Her avoid-Braydon-Mitchell life preserver had just failed.

Sitting on Danica’s porch and waiting for her return, he felt at peace.

The setting sun cast a red-orange hue over the town, enriching the already vibrant colors surrounding the slightly secluded home Danica had bought from her parents, according to the town information mill.

Little Blue Herons, with their grayish-blue feathers reminding him of Danica’s eyes, fished for their dinner in the shallow waters. Belted Kingfishers took advantage of their higher perches on the trees to spot their prey before diving into the water for their catch. New England Cottontails scurried through the brush to avoid the falcons and eagles.

Braydon leaned back in the neon-green deck chair with his legs stretched out. He’d never visited the Kent home, but damn if they didn’t have prime real estate with awesome views of the lighthouse and lush green pines and bustling water from their wraparound porch.

From sunrise to sunset, the Kents had the best seat in town.

A gentle breeze swept over the water and brushed his skin. As subtle as a sunset hundreds of miles from shore, the town sighed with the moment’s perfection.

The sublime peace on the water filled him with an uncomplicated and unexpected simplicity he’d never felt in Whispering Cove. Until now.

Now, at the moment, nothing mattered. The desire simmering in his gut for the doctor who’d efficiently sewn up the gash spanning from his eyebrow to his hairline didn’t matter. Her wintergreen scent or the way it washed him back to having her naked beneath him didn’t matter. The arousal quickening his blood and swelling his dick didn’t matter.

Didn’t matter. Couldn’t matter. Wouldn’t matter.

“What are you doing here?” Danica’s prickly voice at his shoulder jarred Braydon.

He turned and met her curious stare through the screened-in family room window. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail with tangled strands falling free to frame her round face. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she waited. The gauzy curtain floated around her head like a fluttering veil.

He couldn’t inhale. Each attempt became a silent fight against the grip closing his throat.

“Braydon?” She leaned forward on the windowsill and narrowed her eyes. “Are you okay?”

He couldn’t speak, and she clearly expected an answer.

“Shit. Don’t move.” She disappeared inside.

She shouldn’t worry about him moving. He wasn’t sure his legs would work any better than the rest of him, but why had she suddenly sounded so panicky?

He touched his head gingerly. The bruised bulge surrounding his stitches hurt, but it didn’t feel like he’d popped a stitch. He wasn’t bleeding.

What had rattled the delicious doctor?

Before he’d puzzled it out, she rounded the corner of the house and knelt before him, dropping a medical bag at his feet.

“Are you okay?” She took his wrist, resting her fingers over his pulse. “Any headaches, vomiting, rapid breathing? Your pulse is fast.”

Bumping his legs apart, she moved between his knees and took his chin in her hand. She examined his eyes, the bruise, the sutures.

His dick swelled, begging for more of her ministrations. For more direct and personal attention.

“Did you sleep last night?”

He gripped the wrist of her hand holding his face and stared into her gaze. His lungs constricted, complicating his breathing. “Danica.”

“I told Byron not to let you go back to the boat.”

He’d seen her in competent ER doctor mode. This was different. She was scared for him. Why? Was it guilt for being the one to wound him? Or something more…personal?

“I stayed at Granddad’s, but no, I didn’t sleep well.” Every time he’d closed his eyes, images of Danica had slipped to the forefront.

Her hair spread out on his pillow while she writhed in orgasm. Her perky breasts subtly swaying with the gentle rocking of the boat. Her pussy open, wet and ready for him. Her wicked abandon.

“You should have found me earlier. That blow to your head was serious.”

Braydon swallowed and shoved back the urge to rip her clothes off and plunge into her. He demanded as much control of himself as he expected of the rigging on his boat. Now was no different, so rather than pillage and plunder, he held her hand on his chin captive and cupped her neck with his free one.

Pulling her close, so close her mouth almost brushed his, he drew in her scent. His eyes pulsed in a mini-throb thing they did when he concentrated too hard on something. He held his resolve, keeping their gazes locked.

“I’m here now, Doctor. Will you examine me?”

Her tongue swept across her lips and bumped his. His cock pressed more adamantly against his zipper. He’d have to stick with drawstring swim trunks the rest of his visit. He seemed to need the extra room around her.

“Braydon.” Her pupils dilated with excitement, but her tone reeked of refusal. Her free hand rested on his leg for support.

He pulled her the remaining distance and put his lips to hers. He kept the caress soft and steady. Her balancing hand slipped forward, her fingers eased beneath the denim edge. His balls tightened. His spine tingled.

Every time she touched him, his body responded predictably. “Say yes, Doc.”

He kissed a trail from her mouth, along her cheek, to below her earlobe and along the front of her neck. At the hollow of her throat, he lingered. A lick, a nibble, a kiss. She gasped and dropped her head back.

He followed the sway of her body. Moving in slow motion, he eased out of the deep chair and lowered them toward the weathered wood porch.

“This isn’t smart.” Danica arched against him even as she debated the wisdom.

“But it’s right for the moment.” He plucked the tail of her purple tank top from the waist of her denim shorts, slipped it up and off.

He was going to give her a sunset to remember.

“You’re right.”

Pinned to the hard wood beneath Braydon wasn’t where she’d planned to spend the evening, but damn if he didn’t make it impossible to resist. And though resistance would save her pain when he sailed away, she couldn’t turn from the man who was bringing her fantasies eagerly into the realm of reality.

She’d missed his touches after leaving him last night. Self-preservation mattered, but so did enjoying life. Braydon was extremely enjoyable.

If the moment was all she could have, she’d live in it and cherish the memories. Decided, she locked her hands behind Braydon’s neck and pulled him to her.

He thrust his tongue into her mouth. Their teeth scraped and he slowed, moving more leisurely into the exploration, swiping his tongue between her gums and teeth before continuing to entice her through the erotic waltz.

Her pulse thumped. She’d craved him. He stripped her naked, left her heart unprotected, yet she was giving him everything she had to offer. If he looked beyond the sex, he would see through the transparency of her emotions. She loved him, always had, and no amount of rationale would temper her emotions or desires.

Braydon flipped the bra hook between her breasts and thumbed her nipples. They hardened. The soft breeze fluttering over her skin was an additional caress. Her pussy quivered.

He repeated the path he’d taken earlier, kissing his way to the hollow of her throat where he lingered for only a moment, just long enough to make her squirm before proceeding. Rather than going straight for her breasts, or sucking her nipples into his wicked mouth like she wanted, he granted his attention to the less tender, but still sensitive skin along the outer swells.

Hungry, eager for him to be naked and in her, she grabbed his shirt and yanked it over his head, breaking his touches only long enough to rid him of the barrier. It wasn’t enough.

She reached between them and loosened the fasteners of his shorts. Raising her right hip, she rolled against him and nudged him to his back so she could more easily strip him.

With his mouth teasing her breast, his hands worked her shorts loose and off until they were skin to skin.

“We’re gonna have splinters in our asses.”

“I know a doctor.” He nibbled a path toward a nipple. “She probably has some tweezers.”

Laughing, Danica angled her head and kissed his ear. It was a weak spot she’d discovered the night before. A spot which drove him to one of two actions. He would push her away and focus somewhere else, or he would relinquish control and devour her.

She was hoping for the devouring.

Braydon swung up and pulled her against him, positioning her pussy against his cock. Her inner muscles trembled.
Devouring.

She rolled her hips, brushing her clit against the ridges of his erection.

He spread his hands wide, and taking a breast in each one, squeezed with a rhythmic pulsing that echoed the beat in her head. She kissed his neck, worked her way down to his collarbone and across his shoulder. He tasted lightly of sea salt and adventure. A delectable adventure. Flattening her palms on his chest, she pushed until he lay beneath her on the deck, and then slid her hands toward his rippling sailor abs and lower still toward the crown of his cock.

Brushing a thumb over the tip, she captured a bead of precome and lifted her hand with his arousal glistening on her finger. Her eyes sought his. His sought hers. They entangled with pulsing pupils and sparking passion.

She loved watching his eyes and the way the shifted, showing his emotions.

She placed her thumb against her bottom lip and slowly brushed her tongue along the pad, tasting him.

“Fuck, woman.”

She didn’t respond other than to suck her finger into her mouth. To move the digit in and out, sucking and moaning lightly as she rocked her hips and continued rubbing her clit against his cock.

She was lubricating them both. His entry would be a smooth glide, filling her in width and depth. The head of his dick would bump her G-spot.

The muscles between her shoulder blades tingled. Tightened. Tension tripped along her spine and spread like electric impulses through her skull and down her back.

His fingers dug into her breasts with bruising force. She arched deeper into his touch, eager to drive him farther away from his control. She pulled her finger from her mouth with a wet popping sound and slid the moisture down the middle of his chest.

When she reached his cock, he released a breast and grabbed her wrist. “Touch me again and this will be over.”

“No.” She reached behind her back and between his legs and massaged his balls. They swelled and tightened. “We’re just beginning.”

He dropped his head back, driving his hips up and against her. A groan rumbled from his chest. Excited anticipation had her pussy twitching. His control was about to shatter.

“I’m going to break your restraint, Braydon.” He grabbed her hips and lifted her so she could no longer tease herself with his length. Or so she could no longer tease him. Undeterred by him crushing her body against his, Danica cupped his balls in her fingers and rolled them back and forth, tugging gently at the flesh beneath, dragging her nails lightly over the taut skin a little lower.

A gurgle visibly shook his throat, inciting an echoing groan from her. Using his grip on her hips, he pushed her back and drove into her.

She grasped his thighs, arching her chest toward the porch roof, and dug her nails in as she screamed with the instant orgasm.

Braydon held firm, holding her immobile when she’d much prefer riding him to a frantic and sweaty end. His jaw muscles flinched beneath the power of his clenched teeth. He didn’t move, or allow her to move, until her pulsing inner walls stopped twitching against him.

Then he dropped his grip, took her face in his hands and kissed her. He’d maintained control, and it had only heightened the desire shining in his eyes. The connection of his touch stole through her soul and left her floundering. She’d convinced herself she could survive a fling. She’d been wrong.

His gaze didn’t say fling.

His gaze held passion and affection and admiration.

His gaze granted dreams.

“You’re amazing, Danica.”

Her heart bounced around in her chest, battering and bruising her ribs. All through school she’d wanted his attention. She’d dreamed about it through adulthood. Struggling to draw air into her lungs, she breathed in small open-mouthed gasps and became more deeply entranced.

“I’m going to love you all night.” Erotic assurances whispered beneath the husky arousal thickening his voice. “When I finish, your legs are going to be floppier than a jelly fish.”