Read Online Flirting with the Society Doctor / When One Night Isn't Enough by Janice Lynn / Wendy S. Marcus - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Janice Lynn / Wendy S. Marcus
Tags: Medical
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sleep when eventually Vale would return? Would be sleeping in the same room? Possibly crawl between the sheets beside her if she didn’t stay awake and order him to the sofa?
Although his family had been nothing but kind to her, she’d had a difficult time relaxing. How could she fit in when their conversation ran from spending the month in Europe at their favorite French resort to having their thighs liposuctioned in Beverly Hills?
Which should only serve as yet another reminder of why she shouldn’t become involved with Vale this weekend. Despite how dedicated he was to his career, to finding a treatment or, better yet, a cure for Parkinson’s, the reality was he moved in a different world from that she did.
A jiggle of the doorhandle had her breath catching.
Vale.
Peeking through barely open eyes, she took in the outline of his sleek body in the doorframe. So beautiful. So tempting.
Softly, he closed the door, walked over to the sofa and sank down onto the leather. She could feel his gaze on her, could feel his presence so overwhelmingly that sheswore the room pulsed with him. His scent. His aura. His heartbeat.
Forcing her breathing to remain even, she closed her eyes completely, feigning sleep. She couldn’t deal with him. Not tonight. Not if she didn’t want to do something she might regret.
Might, because she wasn’t sure.
Perhaps not doing something would be more regrettable than taking action?
She just didn’t know, didn’t have the experience to know, and for that reason she’d pretend to be asleep to avoid having to act.
“Faith?” he whispered, almost as if he knew she was faking.
She didn’t answer and after a few moments he sighed, but didn’t call her bluff.
Instead, he disappeared into the en suite bathroom, returned, and slid between the sheets. Next to her.
Would it give away that she was awake if she piled pillows between them? Or if she peeked under the covers to see what he was wearing?
Or not wearing?
She swallowed, fighting to breathe, fighting to keep her eyes closed in case he was looking at her and could see her through the sliver of moonlight breaking the darkness, fighting to keep from scooting next to him, spooning her body to his.
Because, really, if she did that while still feigning sleep, what would it hurt? She could always plead that she’d gotten cold. Which didn’t explain the droplets of sweat forming between her breasts.
She bit the inside of her lower lip, forced herself to count sheep, to count the soft sounds of Vale’s even breathing. That he’d crawled into bed and fallen immediately to sleep didn’t say much about her effect on him, did it? He was inbed with her for the first time ever and had immediately dozed off.
The last time she recalled taking a peek at him soft streaks of sunrise had started filtering into the room. His dark head lay against the pillow, his lashes fanned out across his cheeks, his face relaxed in sleep.
Unable to resist, she reached out, brushed her fingertip across his cheek, marveling at the smooth perfection of his skin, at how her heart raced at the contact.
Without his expression changing in the slightest to indicate he’d awakened, his hand caught hers, clasped it to him. Faith watched his face for some sign she’d woken him, but none was forthcoming. Neither was escaping his death grip, so she relaxed, cherishing the contact of their skin.
Her hand cradled in his, she finally drifted off into dream-filled sleep.
With the sun streaming into the room through the magnificent windows, Faith woke very aware that she was in Vale’s king-size bed that smelled of his spicy aftershave.
She opened her eyes, startled to find the bed empty.
Only the imprint on the pillow next to hers told the tale that he’d shared the bed, that she wasn’t imagining his musky scent. Unable to resist, she reached out, touched where his head had lain, calling herself every kind of stupid.
She’d touched him during the night. Had he
Although his family had been nothing but kind to her, she’d had a difficult time relaxing. How could she fit in when their conversation ran from spending the month in Europe at their favorite French resort to having their thighs liposuctioned in Beverly Hills?
Which should only serve as yet another reminder of why she shouldn’t become involved with Vale this weekend. Despite how dedicated he was to his career, to finding a treatment or, better yet, a cure for Parkinson’s, the reality was he moved in a different world from that she did.
A jiggle of the doorhandle had her breath catching.
Vale.
Peeking through barely open eyes, she took in the outline of his sleek body in the doorframe. So beautiful. So tempting.
Softly, he closed the door, walked over to the sofa and sank down onto the leather. She could feel his gaze on her, could feel his presence so overwhelmingly that sheswore the room pulsed with him. His scent. His aura. His heartbeat.
Forcing her breathing to remain even, she closed her eyes completely, feigning sleep. She couldn’t deal with him. Not tonight. Not if she didn’t want to do something she might regret.
Might, because she wasn’t sure.
Perhaps not doing something would be more regrettable than taking action?
She just didn’t know, didn’t have the experience to know, and for that reason she’d pretend to be asleep to avoid having to act.
“Faith?” he whispered, almost as if he knew she was faking.
She didn’t answer and after a few moments he sighed, but didn’t call her bluff.
Instead, he disappeared into the en suite bathroom, returned, and slid between the sheets. Next to her.
Would it give away that she was awake if she piled pillows between them? Or if she peeked under the covers to see what he was wearing?
Or not wearing?
She swallowed, fighting to breathe, fighting to keep her eyes closed in case he was looking at her and could see her through the sliver of moonlight breaking the darkness, fighting to keep from scooting next to him, spooning her body to his.
Because, really, if she did that while still feigning sleep, what would it hurt? She could always plead that she’d gotten cold. Which didn’t explain the droplets of sweat forming between her breasts.
She bit the inside of her lower lip, forced herself to count sheep, to count the soft sounds of Vale’s even breathing. That he’d crawled into bed and fallen immediately to sleep didn’t say much about her effect on him, did it? He was inbed with her for the first time ever and had immediately dozed off.
The last time she recalled taking a peek at him soft streaks of sunrise had started filtering into the room. His dark head lay against the pillow, his lashes fanned out across his cheeks, his face relaxed in sleep.
Unable to resist, she reached out, brushed her fingertip across his cheek, marveling at the smooth perfection of his skin, at how her heart raced at the contact.
Without his expression changing in the slightest to indicate he’d awakened, his hand caught hers, clasped it to him. Faith watched his face for some sign she’d woken him, but none was forthcoming. Neither was escaping his death grip, so she relaxed, cherishing the contact of their skin.
Her hand cradled in his, she finally drifted off into dream-filled sleep.
With the sun streaming into the room through the magnificent windows, Faith woke very aware that she was in Vale’s king-size bed that smelled of his spicy aftershave.
She opened her eyes, startled to find the bed empty.
Only the imprint on the pillow next to hers told the tale that he’d shared the bed, that she wasn’t imagining his musky scent. Unable to resist, she reached out, touched where his head had lain, calling herself every kind of stupid.
She’d touched him during the night. Had he
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