give him all of my personal information, so that will eliminate a subsequent phone call.”
Ciara didn’t want to believe her life had become a rerun. Victor paid for the clothes he’d wanted her to wear whenever they appeared together in public. Initially she’d been flattered when he’d accompanied her on her shopping outings. Then, after a while she’d found it annoying. However, whenever she protested, telling him she didn’t need him trailing behind her, it’d sparked a volatile confrontation. It always ended with Victor overruling her.
The only difference this time was she wouldn’t have an escort. She could select the store and what she wanted to wear. She’d told Brandt Barneys because she’d never gone there with Victor. “Okay,” she agreed.
“I’ll call a car to pick you up and bring you back.”
She shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll have the doorman call a taxi for me.”
“Doormen are notoriously nosy and I try to keep them out of my business. Do I need to say more, Ms. Dennison?”
“Say no more, Mr. Wainwright.”
His eyes narrowing, he studied the missing chair at the head at the end of the table. “I hope that’s not where I’m going to sit.”
Resting her hands at her waist, Ciara gave him an incredulous look. “Of course it’s where you’re going to sit. Why?”
“There’s no wineglass.”
She approached him. “That’s because you can’t have wine. Remember, you’re taking medication.”
“Not today.”
“Yes today, Brandt.” She usually gave him his medication following the midday meal.
In a move too quick for the eye to follow, Brandt pulled Ciara down to his lap, tightening his hold around her waist when she tried to free herself. “I told you that I intend to celebrate. And that means having a glass of wine.”
Ciara felt his hot breath on the nape of her neck and the muscled thighs under her hips. “Please let me go, Brandt.”
He pressed his mouth to the side of her neck. “I will if you let me have a glass of wine.”
She giggled like a little girl. “Stop, Brandt.”
“‘Stop, Brandt,’” he mimicked her voice.
In her attempt to free herself, Ciara’s buttocks came into direct contract with his groin. Within seconds, as if he’d been shocked by a jolt of electricity, he’d achieved an immediate erection. Brandt swallowed a groan. The sensation racing through his groin was akin to intense pain—the most intense, pleasurable pain.
Ciara gasped and then exhaled a lingering sigh when she felt a gush of moisture bathe the sensitive folds of her vagina. Feelings she’d forgotten came to life as she surrendered to the strength of the man holding her to his heart. She pressed her hips downward as Brandt pushed upward, rocking back and forth over the swollen length of flesh. She felt the quickened beating of his heart against her back, the rapid breathing in her ear and the sharp nip of his teeth on the sensitive skin of her neck.
She’d challenged Brandt, asking what could he do sitting in a wheelchair. He’d shown her exactly what he could do in a chair, and without penetrating her. He was making love to her, and she was close to climaxing.
“Oh s…” Brandt swallowed the expletive when he felt the familiar tightening in his scrotum. He was going to ejaculate, but he wanted to be inside the woman gyrating on his lap.
He’d tried holding back but couldn’t when his heart felt as if it was going to explode. Then he did something he hadn’t done since adolescence. He released himself while fully clothed.
Ciara felt Brandt’s large body shudder at the same time the groan, beginning deep in his chest, exploded like the roar of a big cat. The sound was so primal she surrendered to the primordial forces taking her beyond herself. The first orgasm held her captive then it was followed by another and then another. She collapsed, her throat dry, her heart pounding a runaway rhythm and the pulsing reminded her of what she’d missed since walking away from her ex-lover.
“Br-andt…” His name came out in two syllables. “What have we done?”
Trailing kisses along the column of her scented neck, Brandt closed his eyes while enjoying the aftermath of making love with Ciara. “We’ve done nothing wrong, baby.”
“But—”
“No buts, no regrets.” He kissed her ear. “Okay?”
A beat passed. “Okay,” she whispered.
Brandt hadn’t wanted her to feel guilty, because he didn’t. He hadn’t known her long. But that didn’t matter. She was his nurse and he was her patient. That, too, had not mattered.
What mattered was how she