Medical Romance November 2016 Books 1-6. Kate Hardy
over.
‘Anna?’
‘Yes?’
He paused, trying to figure out what he wanted. ‘Are you still okay with spending the night in London?’
Her feet stopped moving for a second. ‘Yes. I can stay with my folks if you don’t want me at the flat, although I didn’t ask Mum if she had room.’
‘We can share the flat. I just wasn’t sure if you’d decided you wanted to get back to Cheltenham—’
‘No. As long as we can check on Hope at some point, I have no plans until my shift starts midday tomorrow.’ She eased back to look into his face. ‘Unless you’ve changed your mind.’
Not hardly.
But he should have told her he had. Because holding her brought back memories of dancing with her other times, when life was simpler and all that mattered was their love for each other. Seeing that picture on the wall at Anna’s parents’ house had made all those feelings come back in a rush. He’d been having trouble tamping them down again, but he’d better work out how.
Because, as of now, he and Anna were going to be sharing their flat one last night.
And the memories and feelings that haunted that place were a thousand times more powerful than anything he might have felt as he’d looked at that wall of pictures. His heart thudded heavy in his chest as the music changed, the singer they’d hired shifting to a lower octave, his voice throaty with desire. The mood in the place changed along with it, dancers beginning to hold each other a little closer.
Right on cue, the arms around his neck tightened just a hair, bringing his face closer to hers. And suddenly all he wanted to do was kiss her.
‘Anna...’
Her eyes slowly came up and focused on his. He saw the exact same longing in them that he felt in his gut. Tired to hell of fighting what he’d been wanting to do for days, Max lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.
* * *
Nothing was fast enough.
Annabelle’s body couldn’t keep up with the ricochet of emotions as Max spun her back into his arms the second they were inside the lift at their old flat, heading towards the fourth floor. Thank heavens no one else was in the compartment, because it felt as if she were on fire, and the only one who could quench the blaze was having none of it. He was keeping the flames fanned to inferno-like proportions.
Her gloved fingers gripped the expensive fabric of his tuxedo jacket as she tried desperately to return kiss for kiss...to respond to his murmured words. In the end, all she could do was hang on and pray they reached the flat before the dam totally broke and the camera caught them doing something that could get them arrested.
Ping! Ping!
Finally. The soft sound signalled they had arrived at their destination. The only thing left was to... The doors opened.
‘Max.’ His name came out as half chuckle, half moan as she tried to tug him to the side. ‘We need to get off.’
His fingers tunnelled into her hair, his lips nibbling on the line of her jaw and making her shiver with need. ‘And if I don’t want to move out of the lift?’
‘Then...ooh!...then we’re going to be stuck riding it for the rest of the night.’
‘Bloody hell.’ His pained smile put paid to his words, but he stuck a hand between the doors just as they were getting ready to close. ‘The image of you “riding it for the rest of the night...”’
They slid into the foyer, a ring of doors lining the fourth floor. She tried to call to mind the number of their flat, but, with her head this fuzzy with need, she was having trouble. ‘I don’t—’
‘Four-oh-three.’
Gripping her hand as if afraid she might try to flee before they made it inside, he came up with a set of keys from one of the pockets of his trousers.
No way. She wasn’t about to run.
Somehow Max got the key fitted into the lock and turned it. They practically fell inside the door.
Home!
No, not home. But close enough.
Dumping the keys onto the marble table in the foyer, he navigated through a hallway, switching lights on as he went, towing her behind him. She glanced around as they went through the flat.
It was immaculate. He’d said that Suzanne came once a month to clean. Annabelle didn’t even want to think about how much money that added up to over the course of the last couple of years.
The place looked just as she’d left it. Her mum had told her to take the furniture with her to her new flat, but Annabelle hadn’t wanted anything to do with the sad remains of their marriage. So she’d just left it all for Max to dispose of. It looked as if he hadn’t wanted to be left in charge of that task any more than she had.
Down the hallway, past a bathroom and two guest bedrooms, until they arrived at their old room. Three years later, the brown silk spread still adorned the bed, looking brand-new. It could have been a mausoleum preserving a slice of her life that had been both happy and filled with anguish.
‘I can’t believe it’s all still here.’
That seemed to stop Max for a moment. He looked around as if seeing it all for the first time. ‘I haven’t been here in ages. I always meant to change things, but...’
He hadn’t been able to any more than she had.
‘Let’s not think about that right now.’ She wrapped her arms around his waist, unwilling to ruin what had been building between them ever since they’d come face to face in the corridors of Teddy’s. It seemed as if every tick of the clock had been leading to this.
Whatever ‘this’ was.
He cupped her face in his hands. ‘Let’s not,’ he agreed before moving in to kiss her once more.
Again and again, his lips touched hers until the fire was back and this time there was nothing to hold them back.
Annabelle pushed his tuxedo jacket from his shoulders, moving to catch it when it started to drop to the floor.
‘Leave it.’ His knuckles dragged up the length of her neck, smoothing along the line of her jaw until he reached her ear. He toyed with one of her chandelier earrings, making it swing on her lobe in a way that made her shudder. He’d always known exactly how to make her melt like a pot of jelly that had been exposed to a heat source.
And he was the ultimate heat source, his body generating temperatures that threatened to scorch her until nothing was left but smouldering embers.
And she was fine with that.
He reached around and found the zipper on her dress—began edging it downward.
‘Wait!’
She wasn’t sure quite why she said that word, other than the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra under the gown, and if he got her dress off—well, she would be standing there in only her underwear while Max was almost fully clothed.
He evidently misunderstood because he went very still. Too still.
‘Max?’
‘Do you want me to stop?’ He leaned back to look at her face.
‘Yes. I mean no.’ She shook her head, trying to form her words in a way that wouldn’t sound completely off the wall. ‘I’m not wearing...um...anything under this. I was hoping to even up the odds a little bit first.’
‘You’re not wearing anything?’ He took a step back and dragged a hand through his hair. ‘I am very glad I didn’t know that while we were out on the dance floor. Or driving over here. Or in the lift.’
‘I’m not totally