“HOLD it. Please, wait.” Wildly, Blake tried to think of something to stop Moriah. He was just as worried about hurting her as he was about getting hurt himself. “What about…? Ah—you said you’d moved on with your life. Aren’t you seeing someone?” He imagined at least a dozen guys had asked her out since their night together.
“Not at the moment.” She let the edges of her robe fall open, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of bare, golden skin.
“But…” How could that be? Desperately, he tried to sound convincing as she came closer still. “Stop this. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” Blake could have sworn his limbs were coated with icy slush, and his muscles refused to obey his commands. His early morning arousal didn’t help him as far as doing the right thing went, especially when he was surrounded by the shower-clean scent of her.
“Oh, I think I have an idea or two.” She deliberately ran her fingers through her long damp hair. “I want you, Blake. I don’t think I’m far off the mark in saying you want me, too.”
He bit back a harsh groan. He had to get out of here—now. Before it was too late.
He didn’t move.
It was already too late.
“Moriah.” All he could say was her name. It sounded like a plea.
“Yes?” She reached the edge of the bed, within arm’s reach. The sultry expression in her eyes was his undoing. He wore only his boxers. The small article of clothing was too much.
Her hands reached out to stroke his chest. He sucked in a harsh breath. He wasn’t strong enough to push her away.
“Come here.” One tug and she tumbled into his arms. He leaned down and caught her mouth in a deep kiss.
It was too easy to convince himself he wouldn’t hurt her again. She knew him now, knew his views on having a family. So since he couldn’t stop kissing her long enough to formulate a coherent thought, he gave in to his need.
His fingers tangled in the robe as he pushed the bulky fabric aside. He ached to feel her silky skin against him.
“Blake.” She gasped his name, as he tossed the garment into a heap on the floor. Gently, he swung her into the bed beneath him, so he could look down at her.
“Are you sure?” The light shining through the bathroom behind her cast her facial features into shadow and he hesitated, unsure if she was asking him to stay or to stop.
“I need you.” She urged him close, and he nearly groaned again, reveling in the way her breasts brushed against his chest. “Please, don’t leave.”
“I won’t.” At least not now, he silently amended. Eventually, he’d have to leave her, but not at this moment. He nuzzled her neck.
Then hesitated. There was one tiny problem. Slowly he lifted his head, looking her directly in the eye. “Moriah, we can’t do this. I didn’t come here with protection.”
Lifting her head, she pressed a hot kiss against his chest, seeming to delight in tasting him. Looping her hands around his neck, she smiled. “Check the pocket of my robe.”
Lord, she’d thought of everything. He kissed her again, slowly, deeply, drawing strength from the pleasure. On one level he could have spent what was left of the night simply kissing her.
But she squirmed beneath him, silently asking for more. He raised his head, reached over the side of the bed, and groped for the robe.
“Got it.” He pulled out the foil pack, but her fingers were already busily taking it from him.
She sheathed him and he nearly lost control right then and there. Not that she’d believe he hadn’t been intimate with a woman since her. He clenched his jaw and reached for her hands, pulling them away and using his mouth to explore her instead.
He’d never forgotten her. Never would.
Losing himself in her womanly scent, he exchanged caress for caress, kiss for kiss, until they were both panting, writhing with need. He explored her hidden depths with his fingers, nearly whimpering when he found her slick and wet. Teasing her tiny bud, he urged her higher until he felt her clenching tremors, then thrust deep. Home. Miles away, in the desert of Peru, he’d finally found the true meaning of coming home.
But the hot urgency of his body wouldn’t let him wallow in the stunning realization. Instead, he began to move, pulling back then thrusting deep. Her inner muscles tightened around him, clutching him close. Sweet Lord, pleasure spiked and he didn’t know how long he’d be able to last. Not nearly as long as he’d have liked, as his groin tightened then surged with need. He eagerly followed her up and over the pinnacle of mind-blowing satisfaction.
Moriah lay still, her chest rising and falling in agitation and every nerve ending tingling with aftershocks of sensation. Blake’s warmth rested heavily along her side, his arm draped across her stomach, and her lips curved in a drowsy smile. Ah, yes. This was what she’d wanted from the first moment she’d realized he’d spent the night in her bed.
His arm shifted and he lightly slid his fingers up along her side. She shivered, over-sensitized nerves rippling in reaction to his touch.
“I need you.” His guttural voice rumbled near her ear.
“I think you’ve already had me.” She tried for a light, playful tone, but when his hand cupped her breast, she gasped and instinctively arched against him, eager for more.
“I’ll always need you.” He pressed a trail of kisses along the curve of her jaw even as his lean surgeon’s fingers plucked and played with her turgid nipple. “Always.”
She tried not to read too much into his words, but then his flesh stirred and hardened against her hip. He continued his dual assault, his mouth licking and sucking along her neck, his fingers stroking her breast. He moved, just enough to spread her thighs with one knee so he could enter her from behind.
Surrounded in sensation, she eagerly opened, reveling in his sensual caress. He pulled her boneless body over until she was lying directly on top of him, one hand holding her breast, the other covering her mound as he rocked into her over and over again. With a cry, she bucked and shuddered against him in a fierce release.
Some indeterminate amount of time later she pried one eye open and peered at the clock. So far, so good: he hadn’t found a way to sneak out of her bed yet. “Don’t you need to make rounds?”
“Nope.” He sleepily played with a lock of her hair, nuzzling her cheek. “George is covering for me. At least until the first case starts at seven-thirty.”
“Hmm.” She closed her eyes and burrowed against him. “Well, it’s eight now.”
“What?” He bolted upright, nearly spilling her to the floor. “Cripes, how did that happen? I have to get to the hospital.”
“Omph.” Sprawled on the bed beside him, she frowned and rubbed the spot on her head where he’d bumped her.
“I’m sorry.” He planted a quick kiss on the sore spot on her head, then another on her cheek, then on her mouth for a long, deep moment, before shooting out of bed. “But I really do have to go.”
“I know.” Inwardly glowing from his kiss, she watched his taut backside disappear into the bathroom. She understood he had patients waiting for him and took it as a good sign that he hadn’t left after the first time they’d made love.
She needed to go to the hospital as well, but would wait for her turn in the bathroom. After they’d switched places, though, she emerged from the bathroom only to find he was gone.
The hollow feeling in her stomach reinforced what her brain was already telling her. Blake was still Blake.
They’d spent another incredible night together. But, like last time, nothing had really changed.
On her way to the hospital, she remembered she needed to drive out to the orphanage to pick up Henri. Since his surgery was scheduled for the next day, she’d have to find a way to get him either tonight or tomorrow morning.
She’d have to remember to ask Blake about the taxi service, and tried to remember how far it was to the orphanage.
It had been days since she’d seen Henri and she wondered how he was doing. She missed seeing him hang around, as he’d done last year.
Of course, that had been before his mother had passed away.
Sister Rita made it sound as if Henri had fit right in at the orphanage, though, so she probably didn’t need to worry about him.
Moriah discovered Terrance was the anesthesiologist in Blake’s room, working on a patient with a cleft lip and palate. When she reviewed the file, she discovered their patient was a five-year-old girl, one who’d suffered multiple sinus infections as a result of the split in her palate.
“Blood pressure stable, 92 over 45 with a pulse of 118 and a pulse ox of 98 per cent.” Terrance recited the vitals for Blake’s benefit.
Moriah smiled to herself. Obviously Terrance had figured out how to keep Blake happy. Nudging Terrance with her elbow, she gestured for him to move aside. “I can take over now. Thanks for covering my patients.”
“How are you feeling?” Terrance stood, but gave her an intent look over the top of his face mask. “You still look a little pale, although I see you’re not using the crutches any more.”
“Nope, my ankle is much better and so am I.” She assumed his vacated seat. “Did you have to cover all my surgeries yesterday, too?”
“Yeah, but, hey, I told you there would be payback time,” he joked.
“Yeah, yeah. Promises, promises.” She wasn’t too worried, they didn’t have many days off to play with. “How did things go? Any problems?”
“Nah, everything went fine. We’re still on schedule, we didn’t postpone any patients.”
“Thank heavens for that. I would have felt horrible if we’d had to cancel cases. Did we add any others to the list?”
“Besides Henri, you mean?” Terrance shook his head. “Not yet, although I think George is seeing a few additional potential candidates today, between patients.”
The same thing had happened last year: more patients continuing to arrive, long after they’d put their schedule together. If the required surgery wasn’t too time-consuming, they might be able to make room. Anything to avoid turning patients away.
Thankfully, Blake’s first case of the day went without a hitch. An hour and a half later, Moriah wheeled little Arianna into the PACU.
“Greta, I have another patient for you,” Moriah called, interrupting the nurse’s quiet conversation with Terrance.
“Coming.” Greta hurried over. “Oh, isn’t she a cutie? Blake did a great job on her.”
“She sailed through the surgery but, considering her history of sinus infections, we’ll need to cover her with antibiotics.”
“Of course.” Greta took over Arianna’s care. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Call me if you need anything.” For a moment she hesitated, loath to leave as she remembered Louisa who’d woken up thrashing like a wild woman, but that had been due to a non-functioning IV. In contrast, Arianna seemed fine.
“I will.” Greta’s gaze softened as she dug in her pack for a stuffed animal for the girl.
The day went on. They managed to get two more patients finished before the last one arrived. From her first look at him, Moriah knew this would be a long one. The poor guy had obviously sustained severe facial burns. Blake would do a split-thickness skin graft to replace some of the debilitated scar tissue.
Moriah was thankful the patient was otherwise fairly healthy, because his surgery did indeed take several hours. She was amazed at how painstakingly Blake worked, never losing his patience or complaining. When he glanced up at her, his expression was full of concern.
“Should I reverse him?” Moriah asked.
“Not yet. I don’t like the look of this.” Blake stared down at the area in question. “Keep him intubated for now. He may need more surgery if this flap goes bad.”
She gave the patient several breaths with the ambu-bag, as Blake steadily watched the graft. Every few minutes he’d test the flap to see if it would blanch with pressure and how long it took for the pink color to return. He also poked it with a needle to see if it would bleed.
“What I wouldn’t give for a few leeches,” he muttered.
“I’m sure they have leeches in Peru,” she responded dryly. “Although I doubt they’re sterile.” Back in the States, they sometimes needed to use leeches to help get rid of the excess blood pooling underneath a skin flap. As barbaric as it sounded, the therapy was amazingly successful. The leeches, bred in sterile conditions specifically for this purpose, instinctively stayed on the flap, removing the worst of the blood accumulation underneath and preventing further surgeries.
“The threat of infection might be worth it, to avoid further surgery,” Blake commented.
She knew he was right. “Should we send someone to the river to find some?” Ick, she thought with a shiver. Anyone but her, that was.
Blake hesitated. “Let’s hold off for now. He seems to be doing all right. Go ahead and reverse him.”
Moriah reversed the anesthesia and after a few minutes she removed the breathing tube and wheeled him into the PACU.
“I can’t believe it’s so late,” she murmured. Now that surgical list was over, she was aware of her stiff and sore muscles, partly from having been so sick the day before.
Greta smiled. “I must admit, I’m glad this is the last patient.”
“Me, too.” Moriah watched as the nurse administered a little oxygen.
Blake arrived from the OR suites. “How’s the skin flap?”
Moriah pressed a finger lightly against his handiwork. “About the same. A little pale, but still blanching.”
“Blanching slower, I think.” Blake frowned. “That’s OK, I’ll stick around for a while, strip the drains to encourage the blood to drain while I keep an eye on it.”
“I understand.” She tried to hide her dismay. He could be using this case as an excuse to avoid her, although she knew he really cared about his patient. The Peruvian nurses on the general wards weren’t trained to do flap checks every fifteen minutes, like they were in the States. She suspected that even if they were trained, Blake would still want to stick around to check his work. “Do you want me to stay with you?”
“No, there’s no need for both of us to stay.” Blake settled in beside his patient, barely sparing her a glance. “You were sick, you need to rest.”
“So do you.” She watched him, trying to read his mind. Did he already regret their intimacy? Was he right now trying to think of a way to let her down gently? Well, he needn’t bother. She hadn’t been lying when she’d told him he wouldn’t hurt her.
Well, maybe she was a little hurt. But at least this time she’d gone to bed with him already knowing there wouldn’t be a long-term relationship between them.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
Peachy. Now they were both fine. She understood what he was really telling her. “All right, I won’t. Goodnight, Blake.”
“Goodnight, Moriah.”
She could feel the weight of his gaze on her back as she left the PACU. Had he expected heated protests? Theatrics? Or, worse, tears? Hesitating in the doorway, she drummed up the nerve to glance back at him.
He was bent over his patient, concentrating intensely on the skin flap.
She turned back, hardening her resolve. Not this time. She wasn’t that foolish.