Bachelor at Her Bidding (Bachelor Auction Book 2) (7 page)

She gave a shiver of what he hoped was arousal, and reached up to kiss him. “I like the way you think,” she said.

“Good.”

Her laugh turned to a sultry gasp of pleasure as he kissed his way down her body. And he loved every second of it. He teased her nipples with the tip of his tongue until they peaked; her hands slid into his hair, and he could feel pressure of her fingertips against his scalp, urging him on.

He dipped lower, tracing a circle around her navel with the tip of his tongue, and discovered the ticklish spot on her side that made her wriggle and giggle.

He liked having her laughing on the bed with him.

But he wanted more than just laughter. He wanted her sighing with pleasure and murmuring his name. He wanted to give her a birthday present that she was really going to remember.

He slid one hand between her thighs, stroking them apart, and skated a fingertip lazily across her clitoris.

Just as he’d wanted, she gasped his name. He did it again, and her voice was a little breathier. A third time, and she was practically inarticulate, giving soft little murmurs of pleasure.

He pushed one finger into her; she felt warm and wet and so ready for him, just as he was ready to bury himself deep inside her.

And then he stilled.

“Condom,” he said. “We need a condom.” And he didn’t have one. He wasn’t the kind of guy to keep one in his wallet just on the off-chance; he never had slept around, even when he was younger, and his ex had been on the Pill.

Her eyes opened and she stared at him. “I don’t have one. How stupid is that?” She looked dismayed. “I’m a family doctor and I don’t even have a condom in my doctor’s bag. That’s… that’s so…” She shook her head, clearly cross with herself.

“I don’t have one, either,” he said, rocking back on his haunches. “Because I wasn’t expecting this to happen.”

“Me neither. I – um – guess this is where…” She trailed off, looking awkward and embarrassed.

“Actually,” he said softly, “this is where the birthday girl isn’t going to be disappointed. We just have to do something else.” He kissed her again, then slowly worked his way down her body, touching and kissing and licking until she was tilting her hips toward him again.

He knelt between her thighs and drew his tongue along the length of her sex.

She gave a little needy moan of pleasure, and he did it again. And again, until her breathing had quickened. Then he set to work on her clitoris, varying the speed and pressure of his tongue against her skin. Her hands were back in his hair again, and she was rocking her pelvis against him.

*

As Rachel’s climax
hit her, her world dissolved into sparkles. She cried out, wanting to say his name but unable to form more than a gasp of pleasure.

Then he shifted to lie beside her and held her close.

“Ryan, I…”

He kissed the words away from her mouth. “There’s no need to say anything,” he said softly.

Rachel was faintly shocked to taste herself on his lips, and it made her feel ridiculously shy with him. She buried her face in his shoulder. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Then I, um, need to return the favor.”

“No, you don’t.” He smiled at her. “It’s your birthday. In my book that gets you a free pass.”

It was against all her principles, all her sense of fairness. “But…”

He stopped her with a fingertip pressed to her lips and sighed. “Stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“The bathroom’s next door if you need it.” She felt her face flaming with embarrassment and shame. She really hadn’t thought this through. Although technically they’d been at school together, she hardly knew the man. Before today, she’d only met him just once as an adult – and yet she’d ended up in bed with him.

She’d just had sex with a man who’d been bought for her by her friends.

She groaned.

How pathetic was that?

And what did she do now? Get dressed?

Though Ryan hadn’t pulled on so much as his boxer shorts when he’d walked out of her bedroom. His nakedness hadn’t bothered him at all.

She curled up into a ball, in an agony of indecision, and still hadn’t come to any conclusions about what to do when he returned carrying a tray of coffee, cream, sugar and a plate containing more of the gorgeous
macarons.

And he was
still naked.

Rachel had a nasty moment when she thought, what if my blind was open and someone outside had seen him? But her kitchen windows were above waist height. Even so, would anyone make the connection and start gossiping? She’d hated all the gossip at the hospital when her marriage to Nick had collapsed, and she didn’t want to have to go through all that again.

“You’re panicking,” he said softly.

She nodded. “You just made coffee in my kitchen, without so much as a stitch of clothing on. Anyone looking in could’ve seen you.”

“I guess I could’ve worn an apron.” He shrugged. “Though I didn’t bring one with me and I’m guessing that, as you’re not into cooking, you don’t have one either.”

The little quirk in his mouth was irresistible and made her smile back, despite her awkwardness. “Yeah. Sorry. I guess I’m overreacting.”

“Just a little.” He sat down on the bed next to her and stroked her face. “Do you want cream or sugar in your coffee?”

“Cream, because it’s my birthday – otherwise I just take a splash of milk, and never sugar,” she said.

He smiled at her. “As a doctor I guess you’re supposed to promote healthy eating.”

“I try.” She took the cup of coffee from him once he’d added cream and sipped it. “This is fabulous. It’s not my coffee, is it?”

“The instant stuff you made me earlier? Um, no.” He grinned. “I think I might need to teach you a little bit about coffee, Dr. Cassidy.”

Did that mean they were going to see each other again?

Or was she hoping for too much?

Not quite sure what to say next, she ate a
macaron.
What had just happened between them was amazing, but it shouldn’t have happened. And she didn’t have a clue what ought to happen now. “I – um – Ryan, I…” She took a deep breath. She could do this. She was Dr. Rachel Cassidy, a future pillar of the community in Marietta; she was good with her patients…

…
and not enough for Nick.

She pushed the words out of her head. “Ryan, this was meant to be just dinner, I feel like a… like a…” She paused. “What do you call a woman who pays for sex?” she asked helplessly.

“You didn’t pay me to go to bed with you,” he said softly. “That just happened. And you’re right – it shouldn’t have happened. It wasn’t part of the deal.”

“I’m no good at relationships,” she said miserably. “I’m divorced – though I probably don’t need to tell you that. You’ve probably already heard it from someone in town.”

“Yeah, I have,” he admitted.

Hopefully nobody in Marietta knew the whole reason why she was divorced; she’d just said that it hadn’t worked out and changed the subject if anyone asked further. Her family and closest friends knew that Nick had cheated on her, but she knew they wouldn’t spread the gossip. Though she hadn’t quite been able to tell them the full story, because she felt too awkward and ashamed about what had happened.

The day she’d come home early from work.

Nick had been there – his shoes were in the hallway – and there was another pair of shoes kicked off next to them. Women’s shoes. Not Rachel’s.

Maybe a colleague had popped in to see him. Or a neighbor. A friend.

But deep down inside she’d known.

She’d heard the noises coming from the bedroom. And, unable to stop herself, she’d pushed the door open.

Nick had been lying there on their bed, gripping the wrought iron headboard and grunting in pleasure. And another woman – a woman with lush curves, so very different to Rachel’s own slender frame – had been straddling his naked body, bouncing up and down on him and crying out equally loudly.

They’d been making too much noise to hear her.

Hurt, betrayed and angry, she’d slammed the door. Hard. She hadn’t even been able to pack, because her clothes were in the wardrobe opposite the bed. Their marriage bed. A bed of betrayal.

She’d gone into the bathroom to throw up. When she came out again, Nick was standing there. Fully dressed. And the woman had gone, though the cloying perfume she’d worn still hung in the air.

“Who is she?” Rachel had demanded.

“Esme.”

Two syllables that had brought Rachel’s world crashing down. She knew the name. Nick’s ex. The one she’d overheard his mother comparing her to – and not favorably.

“I’m going back to her,” he said.

As if Nick guessed what she was thinking – what had she done wrong? Why had he betrayed her like that? – his lip curled. “You’re not enough for me. I only dated you to get back at Esme when we had a fight.”

She’d stared at him in shock. “But you said you loved me. You married me!”

“I didn’t really love you. Not like I love her. And I married you on the rebound. My mistake.”

There hadn’t been even the slightest hint of remorse, much less an apology.

“I’ll come back for my stuff tomorrow when you’re not here,” he’d said. Then he’d walked out of their apartment and out of their marriage.

How stupid she’d been. Falling in love with a man who didn’t love her back. Who’d seen her as a poor substitute for the woman he really loved. And she was never, ever going to make that kind of mistake again. No more relationships. No more chances of getting hurt. So she needed to be honest with Ryan Henderson right now.

“Just so you know, I’m not looking to get involved with anyone,” she said.

“Me, neither,” he said. “I’m assuming you know my home situation, because Marietta’s a small town and everyone knows everything about everyone.”

Not
quite
everything, she hoped, but she nodded.

“Right now I just don’t have time for a relationship. My focus is on looking after my grandmother – being there for her, the way she was for me when my parents were killed.”

So in the end there was an easy get-out for both of them, she thought. “So we’ll, um, just pretend this didn’t happen?”

“We’ll pretend this didn’t happen,” he agreed.

“And we’ll be, um, friends?” She hated the way that “um” was creeping in to her sentences; she wasn’t usually this inarticulate and hesitant.

Then again, she didn’t usually take a complete stranger into her bed and let him make her fall apart in his arms.

“Friends,” he said. “I’d like that. I can always use a friend.” His mouth quirked again. “Even though right now I think we’re not quite in friend mode – we’re both naked, we’re in the same bed, and we have a plate of French
macarons
between us.”

She remembered the way she’d smeared chocolate across his lower lip and went hot all over. She could think of other places she’d like to smear chocolate and lick it off right at that very moment, and the sudden slash of color across his face made her realize that he was thinking along the same lines.

“We can’t,” she whispered. Even though she wanted to. Because she didn’t think she’d be able to live with herself in the morning. “Friends with benefits” wasn’t an option, not in a small town where people would notice and make comments, however well-meaning. “Ryan, would you mind turning your back while I put some clothes on again?” Which was pretty feeble of her, considering they’d both seen every square inch of each other’s skin and how he’d explored her with his mouth.

But he was the perfect gentleman. “Of course. And I’ll get dressed, too.” He balanced the tray of coffee on her nightstand and scooped his clothes off the floor.

When she was dressed, she turned to face him. He was dressed, too – but he looked rumpled and sexy. Anyone who saw him would know exactly what he’d just been doing. And with whom, given that everyone knew his “date” from the fundraiser was scheduled for today.

“Sorry. I crumpled your chef’s tunic,” she said.

“Nobody’s going to notice. Besides, it’s dark and it’s snowing again.”

“Sharla Dickinson’s sitting with your grandmother, though, and she’ll notice.” Rachel knew how sharp-eyed the high school principal was.

He smiled. “Principal Dickinson’s seen enough in her time to know when not to ask questions.”

Her skin heated with embarrassment. “Or I could press your tunic for you now, before you go home.” It would make him a little less rumpled. Even though it meant he’d be bare-chested and tempting while she was actually pressing his tunic.

“It’s fine, Rachel. Stop worrying,” he said softly. “Let’s take the coffee through to the kitchen.”

“Good idea.” Because her tangled sheets made her remember what he’d done to her, the way he’d made her feel, and she wasn’t sure she could resist the temptation to do it all over again – even though they’d just agreed to be friends and no more than that. Saying it hadn’t quite damped down the attraction enough.

Back in her kitchen, he insisted on doing the washing up. “Apart from the fact that I’d never take my equipment home dirty, it’s your birthday and the rule is that you don’t do the washing up on your birthday. Sit down.”