The Wilders: Falling for the M.D.. Teresa Southwick
reaction was to tighten his arms around Bethany’s waist, kissing her back with as much fervor as she was exuding.
An urgency traveled through his body, making demands he knew he couldn’t, in all good conscience, follow through on.
So after allowing himself a heady, breathless moment, he summoned a surge of strength—not exactly as easily as he would have liked—and placed his hands on the inviting swell of her hips. Rather than give in and mold her to him the way he really wanted to, Peter gently pushed her back, away from him.
Bethany blinked, dazed, surprised and bewildered. Why had he stopped? “What’s wrong?”
The innocent question squeezed his heart. “Nothing.” He tried to make her understand his reason for backing away, wishing that either she was clearheaded or he had no conscience. But neither was true. “Bethany, you’re tipsy.”
Her smile was quick, sinking him like a stone. “We’ve already established that.” But as she tried to drape her arms around his neck again, he stopped her. His hands on hers, he lightly disengaged her hold. “What?” she cried. Didn’t he want her?
Peter shook his head. This nobility was killing him. “I can’t take advantage of you like this.”
“You’re not taking advantage,” she pointed out, frustrated. “You’re just standing still. I’m the one taking advantage.” Standing on her toes, she laced her fingers together behind his head. “So stop giving me an argument and let me do it, damn it.”
He laughed. He’d always sensed she was aggressive, but not in this vein. It would take so little to give in, to stop trying to talk her out of it and just enjoy what was happening. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman and she was the first one who had aroused him in eons. It felt as if there was lighting in his veins.
“Bethany,” he protested, knowing he had to protect her from herself, “this isn’t you.”
“Well, it should be,” she insisted, pouting so adorably he was sorely tempted to nibble on the lower lip she stuck out. “The sober Bethany is repressed. She’s afraid to feel anything because once she opens up those doors, she knows she can also feel pain. Feel the hurt when others talk about her.” She lowered her eyes and he thought he saw tears shimmering in them. “Feel inadequate because she’s always falling short.”
She got to him. The sad look in her eyes, the heartwrenching downward twist of her mouth, it all got to him. Slipping one arm around her shoulders, Peter lightly ran the back of his hand along her cheek, her mouth.
“There’s nothing for you to feel inadequate about, Bethany,” he told her softly.
“Then why won’t you kiss me?” she cried. “Don’t you want to?”
So badly that it hurts. “You have no idea how much I want to.”
“Then why won’t you do it?”
He could feel her breath along his skin, could feel himself capitulating even as he struggled to hold on to his control.
“Because if I kiss you, it won’t stop there.” He moved a soft curl back from her forehead. “And I don’t want you waking up tomorrow morning, regretting what you did.”
“I won’t,” she insisted.
He almost believed her. Almost. He’d never known what temptation meant until this very moment. “You have no way of knowing that. You’re not in any position to make that kind of decision.”
She shook her head, feathering her fingers through his hair. Shaking up his soul. “You sound like me. Weighing, measuring, debating and, ultimately, doing nothing.” She turned up her face to his, imploring him to not turn away from her. “I don’t want to be that way anymore. I want to ring the bell, reach for the stars.” She took a breath and said it. “I want you to make love with me.”
Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? “Bethany …”
A smile moved the corners of her mouth. “Unless, of course, you’re some kind of alien and this is going to lead to your secret identity being uncovered.”
Where did she get this kind of stuff? Serious one second, adorably silly the next? He was losing ground and he couldn’t hold out much longer, noble thoughts or no noble thoughts. “I’m not an alien.”
She nodded her head a bit too hard. “Good, because I wouldn’t have been up for that.”
“You’re not up for this, either.” He was going to have to carry her up the stairs, he thought. She just wasn’t steady on her feet. “Go on to bed, Bethany. You’ll thank me in the morning.”
Rather than turn toward the staircase, Bethany latched onto his lapels and yanked, drawing him down closer to her level.
“Only if you’re in the bed with me,” she breathed. And then, before he had the opportunity to say anything else, to turn her down again, Bethany raised her mouth to his.
She caught his lower lip between her teeth and ran her tongue along it. When she heard the low moan escape, she knew she’d won.
Peter knew he damn well should have been stronger than this. He wasn’t one of those men who went from conquest to conquest, thinking of sex as the greatest indoor sport ever invented. He had no love life to speak of and, other than an occasional moment of loneliness, he was fine with the path he’d chosen.
But this was different. She was different and, try as he might to resist her, he couldn’t help himself.
There’d been electricity humming between them, possibly from the first moment they’d stood on opposite sides of the takeover. He liked the way her eyes flashed when she talked and the way every fiber of her being seemed to be brought into the argument, even if he ultimately did disagree with her.
Her passion stirred him then and it was certainly doing a number on him now. Any reserve he thought he had went completely out the proverbial window.
Especially when he felt her hands tugging his jacket off his arms, her fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.
In comparison to her, he was wearing much too much in the way of clothing.
Still kissing her, he began helping Bethany remove the various cloth barriers that kept her soft, tempting flesh from his. Shucking out of his trousers, flinging off his shirt and the cummerbund that made his attire so formal.
His body thrilled to her touch, to the feel of her fingers against his skin. It was with great self control that he refrained from working her free of the shimmering gown until the very end.
It was the prize at the end of the rainbow.
She had no idea where this frenzy was coming from. It was as if something inside of her, something that had been waiting patiently and quietly to be set free had just taken over.
When he pressed his lips to the hollow of her throat, she moaned, her knees all but buckling. The next moment, she felt the shadow-thin straps of her gown being coaxed in unison from her shoulders. Within a heartbeat, the gown had left her breasts, sinking seductively to her waist. Instead of material, his hands covered her, igniting a fire within.
Bethany kissed him over and over again, unable to get enough, afraid to stop because she was afraid that she might disintegrate into a million little pieces if she did.
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