He did.
Then a man came in and wandered from one area to the other, casting sideways glances at both Maeve and Keara until Maeve finally approached him. “My wife and I have this fantasy,” he said in a low voice, although Keara heard every word. “I want to be a patient, and she’s going to be the nurse.”
Maeve led him over to her selection of costumes and clothing, and found him a nurse uniform that would fit his apparently quite buxom wife.
And then came the man who wanted to be wrapped in clear plastic. Maeve sent him to the grocery warehouse store for wholesale-size rolls of cling wrap.
Keara was getting quite an education.
That evening she was waiting for Maeve to go out to her weekly bridge game, anticipating being alone again in the apartment and thinking she was going to be okay with it, wondering if Shane was going to come by. But Maeve was puttering around in her kitchen and making no move to go out. Keara checked her watch. She was going to be late.
Was Maeve staying home because of her? She’d better not be. Finally Keara had to say something.
“Aren’t you playing bridge tonight?”
Maeve stared at her. “Bridge?”
“Yes. You know, that thing you do every Tuesday night?”
Maeve’s auburn brows snapped together. “It’s Tuesday?”
Keara’s heart sank. “Yes, it’s Tuesday.” She forced a smile. “The day after Monday.”
Maeve’s eyes got all owl-blinky and she turned her back to Keara. “I can’t believe I forgot what day it is,” she said brightly, but her voice sounded funny.
“You still have time. It’s only a quarter to seven.”
“Yes. Yes. I’ll just go freshen up.” She hurried out of the room.
Oh dear, oh dear. Keara sank down onto the couch. Another example of Maeve’s memory problems. She hadn’t seen any problems for a few days, had almost hoped maybe everything was fine, but damn, this wasn’t good.
Maeve rushed out of the apartment, leaving Keara alone. Last time she’d been there alone, she’d been a little antsy, a little edgy, but tonight she thought she was okay. Just a touch worried about Maeve, distracted by trying to decide what to do. She was going to have to talk to Maeve about it.
And then Shane arrived.
She stared at him in exasperation as she let him in. “Now what are you doing here?” Deep down, she had to admit, she was happy to see him. And it wasn’t because she didn’t want to be alone. It was because she wanted to see him.
“Bridge night,” he said softly, pushing against her with his body, gently, insistently. “Right?”
“Right.” She pushed back, their pelvises bumping together, sending a jolt of sweet heat through her. “Come on in.”
Chapter Thirteen
A thought flickered through her mind that she needed to tell Shane about Maeve’s latest incident of forgetfulness, but staring at Shane’s gorgeous face, blue eyes gleaming, sexy mouth curved into a smile, she just melted. Liquid lust pooled warm and heavy inside her and she leaned in closer to his radiating heat, all thought vanishing from her head.
He slid a hand around the back of her neck, under her hair, and urged her closer. He was staring at her mouth and her breath stuck in her chest. A long breath whispered out of her.
“It’s just sex,” she whispered to him.
“Yup. Just sex.”
“Like therapy.”
“Sure.”
Their mouths were only a breath apart and her eyes fluttered closed as she felt Shane’s nearness. Everything inside her tightened and she needed to taste his mouth. She closed the gap between their mouths and his lips moved against hers in a luscious, lingering kiss. Their mouths clung and lifted, met again and she needed to be closer. She twined her arms around his neck and with a low groan he gathered her up against him. She pressed herself to him, fighting to get as close as she could to his body—warm, solid, irresistible.
He slanted his mouth over hers and the kiss deepened into long, open-mouthed, devouring kisses. Sensation sizzled over every nerve ending, hunger rose inside her, desperate and urgent. She rolled her hips, pressing into his groin in an erotic, helpless rhythm.
He stroked a hand down her back, found the waistband of her jeans and slid beneath it to cup her butt. He made a growly sound in his throat and she broke the kiss to let her head fall back with a gasp.
“Nice,” he murmured. He squeezed and his fingers played about the crease between each cheek. But her jeans were snug and he slid his hand out and over her waist, around to the front button. His touch sent cascades of shivers over her.
Excitement grabbed at her stomach, tightening and drawing everything up inside her even more. Need ached between her legs. “Bedroom,” she gasped.
“Good idea.”
She turned to him in her dim bedroom and they began to undress each other. His shirt, her jeans, his jeans, her T-shirt. Then he slid his boxer briefs down over muscular, hair-roughened thighs, while she reached behind her to unclasp her bra and let it fall. Wearing only a lacy thong, she stood before him and he again settled his hands on her waist and drew her closer.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured pressing a kiss to her cheek, her jaw, the side of her neck.
“So are you.” Her palms slid over satiny skin and smooth muscle, up over his biceps to the big hard bones of his shoulder, down to his chest where she rubbed. He groaned. Her fingertips brushed small hard nipples and he growled.
His erection prodded her stomach, hard and hot and insistent and she slid a hand lower, tangling her fingers in the curls just above, then wrapping her fingers around him. He sucked in a sharp breath. “I want to taste you,” she whispered, lips against his ear.
“Oh yeah, babe. Do it. Suck me.”
She went to her knees in front of him, grateful for the soft rug on the floor, and took him in both hands. She studied him for a moment, the heavy veins under silky skin, the rounded head. She cupped his tight balls and caressed them with her fingertips and he made strangled-sounding noises, stepped his legs further apart to allow her access. He was warm, smelled delicious and she leaned her head in for the taste her mouth watered for. She took him in, licked and sucked and tightened her lips around him.
He held her head, gently, never forcing her, just guiding her as she moved her mouth up and down on him, and when she opened her eyes and peered up at him, mouth full of him, the look on his face made her spasm deep inside. She slid one hand between her legs to press there, throbbing against her fingers.
She drew back to catch her breath, slid the wet tip of his penis over her lips then kissed him, right there.
He groaned again and pulled her up. “In the bed,” he muttered, dragging her toward it. “God, I want inside you.”
Didn’t he like that? Because she sure did. She loved the taste and feel of him, and mostly loved knowing that she had caused that look of extreme erotic pleasure on his face.
“Your mouth should be illegal,” he moaned as he tumbled down beside her. “I might have to arrest you.” She smiled as he moved over her. She’d take that as a compliment.
He cupped her breasts, played with her nipples, which she loved so, so much, until she was writhing and so hot she couldn’t stand it.
“Now,” she cried. “Now, Shane, please.”
“Wanna fuck you, baby. Wanna fill you up and make you come.”
“Oh yes. Please.”
“Just need…a condom.”
“Oh. Good thinking.” She waited, a throbbing mass of lust, while he retrieved one from his jeans and returned to her.
She closed her eyes, grabbing onto his shoulders and tilting her pelvis as he pushed inside her, slow and stretching. “Love that. Oh God.”