Dr. Daddy (10 page)

Something inside Zoey sputtered to life at his quietly voiced desire, something vaguely familiar but virtually forgotten. He made her feel warm in a way she hadn’t felt for a very long time. He made her feel good. Telling Jonas about her son had changed things between the two of them. And it had changed something in her, too. She felt freer somehow, less burdened. Before tonight, she would have sworn she had left her pain well buried in the past, that what had happened to Eddie in no way colored the way she lived her life today. Now she saw how wrong she had been. Eddie’s death weighed heavily on her still. But somehow, in recounting the experience to Jonas, she had let a little bit of her grief go.

She had also moved herself closer to him than she had moved to anyone else in her life. By sharing with him something she had shared with no one else, she had invited him into a part of her heart that had been empty for years. And suddenly, she had no desire for him to leave there. Like Jonas, she wanted them to be together. She only wished she knew what would happen once they were.

“Don’t go, Zoey,” she heard him say.

And feeling as if she were speaking from a part of herself she didn’t even recognize, she heard herself reply, “I won’t.”

I
t was uncanny, the way Jonas’s softly uttered plea made Zoey forget about everything. Gone was the newly roused grief for her long-dead son. Gone were the memories of a young husband who had been unable to help her out of the darkest time in her life. Gone was the guilt that she had been likewise incapable of coming to his aid, and helpless to keep her son alive. All were buried deep inside her once again. But for how long they would remain so well concealed, Zoey could only guess.

Forever, she tried to tell herself. She wouldn’t think of such things ever again. At least, not until tomorrow. And right now, tomorrow felt as though it were a lifetime away.

She wasn’t sure how she wound up in Jonas’s bedroom. She only knew that one moment the two of them had been in the den talking, and the next she was standing beside him in his room, a thin silver shaft of moonlight that fell across the bed the only illumination to guide them. It was so quiet, she marveled. The murmur of their breaths commingling in the darkness was the only sound she registered.

And then Jonas kissed her, and even that sound faded away. His lips on hers were warm and tender—more loving than passionate, more persuasive than demanding. He kissed her mouth, her jaw, her cheek, her temple, then he bent and pressed his forehead to hers.

“I don’t want to rush you,” he told her again. “You’re the one who should set the pace here. You tell me what to do.”

In the dim light from the full moon outside, all Zoey could make of his eyes was a soft glimmer of earnestness. “Hold me,” she said quietly. “For now, just hold on to me, as if you’ll never let me go.”

Jonas enfolded her in his arms and held her close, bunching her hair in one hand, stroking her back with the other. For a long time they only stood locked in their embrace, then something inside of Zoey began to stir. What started as a warm sensation uncoiling in her stomach gradually grew to a flame of heat that licked at her heart. She curled her fists into the soft fabric of his shirt, digging her fingers into the warm flesh beneath, and pulled him closer to her still.

He smelled wonderful, she thought, tilting her head to nestle her face in the warm skin between his shoulder and jaw. So clean and musky and masculine. He had unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt, and his tie hung askew where he had loosened it. She lifted a hand to trace her finger along the strong line of his throat, loving the rough feel of the skin she encountered. Dipping her hand lower, she ventured inside his collar, curving her hand around his nape before kissing the side of his neck.

Salty. His skin was warm and salty. She licked her lips to savor him again, and the knowledge of his taste on her mouth sent a shiver of delight shimmying through her. She wondered if he tasted that good all over. She dropped her hand gingerly to the front of his shirt, slowly unfastening the rest of his buttons in an effort to find out.

Jonas stood perfectly still as she undressed him, save the occasional brush of his knuckles along her arm or the touch of his fingers on her face. Zoey couldn’t look at him as she performed the task, so unfamiliar was she with it. Little by little, she revealed more of him for her inspection, studying each part of him as she went along, renewing so much she had forgotten. His arms were strong, roped with sinew and corded with veins. His chest and torso were a symphony of muscle and dark hair. His legs were the legs of an athlete, brawny, vibrant and powerful looking.

He could crush her with those legs if he had a mind to, she thought. Or he could imprison her in the sweetest kind of vise. The realization made her feel a little giddy.

When he stood before her naked, Zoey could only stare at him. Stare at him and be thankful that the light wasn’t better than it was. Even in the scant ray of moonlight, Jonas was magnificent. Her gaze traveled the length of him from head to toe, lingering just long enough at his midsection to gauge the full potential of his masculinity.

“Oh, my,” she whispered with a reverent smile before lifting her gaze to meet his.

Jonas smiled back at her. “Not yet. But I will be yours. Anytime you’re ready.”

Zoey’s smile grew broader. “I’m ready now.”

It was a lie, but she couldn’t tolerate the distance between them any longer. She wanted to touch him, all of him, and wanted him to touch her in return. But something inside her still quailed at the threat of closeness. It had been so long since she’d opened herself up to another human being. So long since she had felt any kind of deep emotional response to anyone. The last time she had done so, she’d ended up cold and numb inside. For the first time in almost twenty years, she was beginning to warm up again. She wasn’t sure she would make it if she lost that warmth again.

Jonas approached her slowly, as if giving her ample time to change her mind. He cupped his palm over one cheek as he bent to press his lips softly against the other. Zoey closed her eyes when he dropped his hands to the hem of her sweatshirt, then lifted her arms obediently when he tugged it up over her head. When her hair fell in a fiery cascade over her face, his fingers joined hers in brushing it back over her shoulders. Then his hands were on her shoulders, his thumbs hooked deftly beneath the straps of her brassiere to drag them down over her arms.

Instinctively, she crossed her arms over her chest in a gesture of self-preservation. Jonas curled his fingers to brush the backs of his knuckles over the tops of her breasts, skimming them back and forth, lower and lower, until he gently urged her hands away. Zoey reached behind herself to unhook her bra, forcing herself to stand still when the wisp of white lace fell away. For one silent moment, Jonas only stared at her, then he cupped his hands over her breasts and bent to taste one.

The sensation was exquisite. Zoey squeezed her eyes shut and let the ripple of heat wind through her. His mouth opened more fully over her, and he drew the dusky peak of her breast deep inside to suckle hungrily at her. She buried her fingers in his hair to pull him closer, then gasped when he nipped her playfully with his teeth. Immediately he laved the place he had violated, then tugged her deep into his mouth again. For long moments, he so favored first one breast, then the other, until he dropped his hands to the waistband of her jeans.

Button by button, he unfastened the folds of denim, dipping his hand inside the heavy fabric to explore her more explicitly. Zoey gasped at the intimate touch, the heat that had been simmering inside her suddenly exploding into a white-hot incandescence. Jonas moved his hands to her waist, then scooped them inside her jeans to cradle her derriere before shucking the garment away with her panties.

Then, Zoey, too, stood naked, and Jonas was the one to admire. A wicked smile curled his lips, and his eyes glittered hotly in the pale light.

“Oh, my,” he said, mimicking her remark of some time ago.

She smiled back at him. “Anytime you’re ready,” she whispered.

“I’ve been ready for months,” he told her as he reached for her.

And although she didn’t say so, Zoey wondered if maybe she hadn’t been waiting for him for even longer.

The feel of his body against hers was like something from a sleep-scattered dream. She had forgotten what it was like to be this close physically to another human being, had forgotten what such nearness could stir inside her. She had forgotten how a man could make her feel inside—safe and secure, beautiful and loved. How long had it been since she’d felt any of those things?

When they tumbled backward onto the bed, he was hot and hard and heavy atop her, and Zoey was nearly overcome by a need she would have sworn she was no longer capable of feeling. A need for him. For Jonas. No one else would do.

He rolled to his back and pulled her on top of him, wrapping his arms fiercely around her waist as if he feared she would try to leave him. “You set the pace,” he told her again. “Tell me what you want me to do. Where you want me to be. How fast I should go.”

It was a dizzying assignment, a heady obligation to have. A powerful surge of desire rocked her as she considered the task ahead. And then, with great care and much thought, she carried out his instructions.

“I want...” she began slowly, “I want you, Jonas. All of you. However you’ll come to me. Wherever you want to be. Let’s just let it happen. Let’s both set the pace.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Well, if you say so...”

He kissed her again, turning so that their bodies were side by side. He grazed his hand over her bare back to settle it securely on her bottom, then looped a long leg over her thigh. Effectively penned, Zoey tangled her fingers in the coarse hair scattered across his chest, raking her nails down along his abdomen until she encountered the part of him that had so intrigued her. Cradling him intently in her hand, she let her fingers explore him.

Jonas growled for mercy, but uttered the words into Zoey’s hair, therefore making them unintelligible. As she continued with her cautious ministrations, though, he decided maybe the misunderstanding wasn’t such a bad thing, after all. He’d never in his life experienced the overpowering response to a woman’s touch that Zoey commanded with her tentative caresses. Inspired by her tender manipulation, he rolled until she sat atop him, straddling his waist. Then, fixing his hands firmly on her hips, he urged her body forward.

She moved willingly with his silent command and, evidently understanding his intent, arched her back to give him fuller access to the prize he sought. When Jonas tasted her the first time, she sucked in her breath as if fearful of drowning. When he tasted her the second time, she exhaled in a rush of delight. When he tasted her the third time, she groaned and leaned over him, her long hair flowing down to envelop them like a ruddy curtain that kept the rest of the world at bay.

Only when she could no longer tolerate the wonderful torture of his mouth pressed so intimately against her did Zoey move away. She scooted back down the length of his body until she again encountered his solid presence, curled her fingers firmly around it and guided him toward the heated center he had so inflamed.

Before she could join herself with him, however, Jonas rolled again, shifting their positions so that she felt the warm sheet against her back and smelled the lingering remnants of him on the pillow beneath her head. His face hovered only inches above her own, his breath like a warm summer breeze against her neck.

“I want to be close to you when I’m inside you,” he told her, his voice a rough, ragged whisper. “I want to be touching every part of you I can reach. I don’t want to know where my body ends and yours begins. I want us to be one.”

She smiled as she lifted a hand to brush back a damp lock of his hair. “I thought this was about what
I
want,” she said softly.

“It’s about what
we
want,” he reminded her. “You said you want me however I’ll come to you. And this is it. I’ll come to you with every inch of my body, every fiber of my soul, every ounce of my emotions, every—”

She pressed her fingers against his lips to halt the flow of promises. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t give me that much.”

He gazed at her, and even in the moonlight she could see that he was puzzled. “Why not?” he asked.

“Because it’s too much.”

“But—”

“Just give me tonight,” she told him. “That’s the only promise I want from you. I can’t think any further ahead than that.”

And before he could deny her, she circled her fingers around him and brought him inside her. Then, arching her back, she urged him further still, so that Jonas could only close his eyes and forget what he had been about to say. He pulled out of her, only to thrust himself even more deeply inside, and Zoey, too, became lost in the erotic dance.

Further and further he drove her to delirium, deeper and deeper she descended. A kaleidoscopic burst of light played before her eyes at the same time a similar explosion of sensation rocked her body. For what seemed like hours she hovered on the brink of a tumultuous euphoria, until she finally allowed herself to free-fall with the waves of delight that shook her. For the first time she could ever remember, Zoey felt liberated. She let herself go wherever Jonas wanted to take her. And he took her to places she never could have imagined.

Eventually, however, she was forced to return. All too soon she was back in his bed, her damp cheek pressed against his, her arms coiled over his slick, hot back. Her hair was tangled in his hands, and her legs were entwined with his. He had gotten what he wanted, she realized vaguely. The two of them felt as one.

Sleep claimed her quickly after that. Never had she felt so exhausted and emptied. Her last thought before unconsciousness claimed her was that empty shouldn’t be how she felt. After what she and Jonas had shared together, a person was supposed to feel replete and satisfied, wasn’t she? Yet satisfaction eluded Zoey. In its place, she felt confusion and dismay. Thankfully, the feelings didn’t last because she drifted into a welcomed slumber that chased away her fears. Thankfully, she wouldn’t have to think about them until tomorrow.

* * *

It was amazing, Zoey thought early the following morning, how two people could do what she and Jonas had done the night before and be expected to behave normally the next day. The sun had yet to rise into the sky, but there was just enough light present in the room for her to watch him sleep. As she lay naked beside him, wrapped in the striped sheet, she replayed again their performance of a few hours before and felt herself blush from head to toe. Had she really done all that? she wondered yet again. Funny, how quickly a person could lose her inhibitions. It was as if no time at all had passed since the last time she and Jack had made love.

And making love with Jonas had been nothing like making love with her ex-husband. She and Jack had been kids, eager and avid, but in no way expert. Jonas was clearly a very experienced lover. He had been inventive and arousing and more than thorough in seeing to her needs. He’d obviously had a lot more practice than she had.

The realization troubled Zoey. Just what had last night meant to Jonas? Was she simply one more in a string of women he invited to bed with little more than a promise of a very satisfying experience? Would he even want to find her in his bed this morning? Or would she be expected to have risen and returned to her own home with a breezy little lipstick-stained goodbye note?