open and willing, and vulnerable.
And then he dropped his head—just as we’d both wanted him to—and he put his mouth on mine. And I pressed mine to his, right back.
And that ache of longing I always felt when I was around him?
The moment his mouth touched mine, it melted away.
Duncan’s kiss was all warmth—firm and soft and urgent all at the same time, and I’ll bet anything that mine was all those things back, but what I remember most was this impossible combination of opposites: it felt dangerous and safe at the same time. Shocking and soothing. Electrifying and relaxing. Impossible and inevitable.
Like we’d left the ordinary world and landed in a place where everything could happen.
And I just gave all the way in—and let myself be everything: alert and relaxed, awake and dreaming, lost and found.
He dropped to one elbow to free a hand to roam over my hair, my neck, my shoulder as he pressed, and pulled, and touched, and—I don’t know—explored and excavated and ignited, and I let him. I wanted to soak him in.
Until.
Duncan shifted position—and then he caught his breath and pulled away.
I opened my eyes.
He was wincing.
“Oh, my God,” I said, instantly pulled back to reality. “Are you hurt?”
“I just—shifted the wrong way.”
Carefully, he transferred his weight back to a better position, and his face relaxed a little.
I edged out from under him. “Oh, my God!” I said. “What are we doing? We can’t do this!”
“Just a cramp. It’s practically gone,” Duncan said, but his face was still tight. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” I said. “You’ve just had surgery—”
He snorted. “Cryosurgery.”
“None of this is fine!”
“I fully disagree.”
He pushed into a sitting position at the edge of the bed again, like before—clearly defeated by whatever pain he’d just felt—and pressed his hand to his side.
I climbed off the bed and came around to face him. “Did we just hurt you?” I asked. “Should I—call the nurse?”
“Just a cramp,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m good.”
Then, as if to prove it, he opened his eyes and smiled at me. His hair was all messed up, falling over his forehead. Old Duncan. Right there.
I might have swooned a little—before I came to my senses.
“Oh, my God! I took advantage of you! You’re on drugs!” I was supposed to be looking after him, not—whatever this was.
That made him burst out with a laugh. “You couldn’t take advantage of me if you tried.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
“Hey,” he said. “None of this is your fault. I’m just irresistible.”
I flared my nostrils at him.
And then he did look better, and then he gave me a delighted smile. “You just kissed me!”
“Um. You kissed me, pal.”
His frown at this gave way to a grin. “Yeah, but you kissed me back.”
“Only because you fell on me.”
“I should fall on you more often.”
But he was shaking his head, like he couldn’t believe it.
“Don’t get too excited,” I said. “You’re going to forget it, anyway.”
“I won’t forget it,” he said. “Even if I don’t remember, I’ll remember.”
But then I shook my head to clear it. “We just need to stay focused,” I said. And then this came out spectacularly wrong: “We just need to get your clothes off and get you to bed.”
He gave me a wry smile. “Sold.”
I let out a growly sigh. “You know what I mean.”
Safe to say, I had never been in a situation even remotely like this one.
We still needed to get him out of that suit. “Can you … change your own clothes?” I asked, hoping his answer would be, No problem.
Duncan gave a big nod. “No problem,” he said.
But then he didn’t move. Just stared at the sweatpants like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “Or maybe I could use a little help.”
I sighed.
No big deal. This was a medical situation. I’d taken men’s clothes off before. It wasn’t rocket science. I frowned to get into an all-business mind-set, then said, “Hold still. I’m going to help you.”
He was still sitting on the edge of the bed. Swaying a little.
I untied his tie, my fingers nudging at the silk knot until it released—unable to not notice how sexy even the most mundane action seemed in the wake of that kiss. Then I slid it from around his neck with a zip and tossed it on a chair nearby.
Sexy.
“You smell good,” he said then. “But I knew that already.”
“Just … focus.”
Next, I shifted to those stiff leather oxfords of his, tossing one and then the other