doing.
Almost as much as I love it. I may not get off, not this time, but I don’t care. I meant what I said about taking my time, moving slowly to savor each step.
Dropping one hand between her legs, I tease her entrance with my middle finger. Moaning, Izzy tries to draw me deeper inside. She’s arching her hips, pressing against me for one more inch, then two—
“Bradley,” she begs. “Please. I need—please.”
Her urgency makes up for any missing words. I know what she wants, so I slip a second finger inside and flatten my tongue against that tight nub of nerves. Her muscles clench around me, and I can tell by her breathing she’s not far from the edge.
I want this to last, but I can’t stop myself from stroking into her, circling her clit again and again until she breaks apart beneath me.
“Oh, God!” She screams, a primal, passionate sound I never in a million years expected the first time I met her.
She’s wild and unhinged, and as I lick and suck and stroke into her, I’m dizzy with the knowledge that I’ve seen both sides of this woman I’ve craved for almost a year. Sweet and spicy. Bashful and badass.
As she loosens her grip on my hair, I kiss my way slowly up her body. Mons pubis, ilium, navel, xiphoid process. I breathe in the hollow between her breasts, drunk with the scent of her skin.
“Bradley.” She giggles, suddenly shy as she struggles to sit up. “That was incredible.” One dark curl falls over a flushed cheek, and she’s so achingly beautiful my chest hurts.
“I loved it.” Another kiss at the edge of her collarbone. “So much.”
She smiles and tucks the curl behind her ear. “Let me return the favor.”
She starts to reach for my fly, which is straining with the force of my hard-on. But I catch her hand in mine and draw her fingers to my lips. “Later,” I murmur as I kiss one fingertip, then the next. “We’ve got time.”
“But—”
“I’m satisfied, Iz,” I assure her. “Very satisfied. Besides, we need to get you fed.”
And I need to get myself out of this bed before I lose every shred of self-control. Not sexually, that’s not what I’m worried about. But I’m teetering way too close to falling for Izzy, which is exactly what we agreed wouldn’t happen. Staying here in her bed is a surefire way to send myself careening over the edge.
I ease off the mattress and smile. “Wait here. I’ll grab your sweater.”
Before she can object, I hustle to the kitchen where the red cashmere rests on the edge of the counter. I pick it up and flick a speck of dried corndog batter off the sleeve. While I’m at it, I turn the burner back on beneath the cooking oil. Might as well set a ticking clock so there’s no risk of tumbling back into her bed.
Glancing in the corner, I see Kevin still snoring on his pet bed, which is nothing short of miraculous. I half expected him to clamber up on the counter to raid the corndog fixin’s, so maybe he’s a better house pig than my mother thinks.
As I turn back toward the bedroom, something snags my gaze outside. A dark shadow moving between the trees beside Jon and Blanka’s cabin. I stare at the space, waiting for more movement, for the prickling of my arms to settle down.
But neither happens. Maybe I imagined it.
Or maybe there’s something Izzy’s still not telling me.
“Why’d you write that?”
I glance up from scribbling on the chart to see the scowling patient peering at my clipboard. “The prescription for azithromycin? It’s an antibiotic used for treating bronchitis.”
“Nah, the other thing.” He stands up, gown gaping open as he walks around me to point at the chart. “Right there—you called me an SOB.”
Fighting to keep a straight face, I recap my pen and tuck it in my lab coat. “That’s ‘shortness of breath.’” I stand up and put some distance between me and Mr. Corsica who, for the record, is kind of an SOB. “With rest and medication, we’ll have you feeling like yourself again in just a few days.”
“You sure you’re not bullshitting me, doc?” He scowls, underscoring my uncharitable thought. “‘Cuz maybe it’s Guillain-Barré syndrome. I read about that on the internet.”
Swallowing back the urge to ask where he got his medical degree, I take a step toward the door. “A good theory, but you’re not experiencing any prickling in your fingers