His Leading Lady Read online

  She didn’t want to be alone with him again, but even more than that, she didn’t want to cause a scene or put Carl in an uncomfortable position. This was her mess, and she would clean it up.

  She waited until they were both inside the elevator before she pushed the button for her floor and turned to face him. “What are you doing here?”

  His smile was slow and…beautiful. There was that word again. Not a word she would normally equate with a man, but then this wasn’t any man. This was a god.

  “I live here,” the god said.

  Oh no. No, no, no. Her stomach plummeted as she realized that not only was she neighbors with the guy who’d seen her cry, but he also knew she lived here, too. She’d known saying she was from out of town was stupid lie the moment it had slipped out of her mouth earlier at the hospital. She’d known there could be a chance that he lived in the neighborhood since he clearly worked at the hospital nearby. Somehow it never occurred to her that he might actually live in her apartment building. Surely she would have noticed him. Or she would have heard the gossip of a hot, single doctor moving in—Ena had eyes and ears everywhere, particularly when it came to single men. How had she missed this?

  But that question would have to wait because they’d passed Ena’s floor, which was where she was assuming he lived since that’s where he’d gotten off the other day. The only stop left was her floor. She absolutely would have known if he’d moved into an apartment on her floor; she knew all of her immediate neighbors. So that must mean…

  “We need to talk.”

  The doors opened on her floor, and there were no other residents in sight. She walked slowly toward her apartment, wariness making her procrastinate.

  It wasn’t that she was afraid of this guy, per se. But she was. Oh, he was no creepy stalker or crazy psycho killer—but he may have been something even worse in her eyes. He was a threat to her sanity. The fact that he’d seen through the chinks in her armor that night was bad enough, but he seemed to see everything about her. Maybe it was because of that night, but she could swear that he saw through her calm, cool act—the one she’d spent years perfecting.

  He shook her foundation to its core. She knew very well how to behave around men to keep them attracted but at arm’s length. She’d spent the better part of her life mastering that particular skill. But every time she saw this man, all she could think was that he’d seen her cry. And every attempt to pull up the age-old shield left her shaky and tattered—like she was fighting a losing battle.

  She didn’t like his effect on her, which meant she didn’t like him.

  Except that she did. Shooting him a sideways glance, she took in that firm jaw, the warm eyes that seemed to see everything and accept without judgment. He’d been kind to her. And to Ena, for that matter. He’d gone above and beyond….

  But he was a doctor, that was his job. There was no way she would let that distract her. They reached her door, and she spun around, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Anything you want to say you can say out here, Dr. Bale.”

  Hands in his pocket, Nicholas studied her from head to foot, his gaze missing nothing. Her skin came to life everywhere his eyes roamed, and she cursed her body for its traitorous response.

  A wretched memory surfaced of the way she’d looked the other night—tear-stained, frumpy, and pathetic. She tried to shove the memory aside quickly. That was so not the mental image she needed if she was going to have the upper hand.

  His eyes narrowed a bit. “You’re blushing.” It wasn’t an accusation so much as a statement of fact, like “it’s raining outside.”

  Irrational anger had her biting out the words, “I’m warm.”

  She didn’t blush, dammit. She’d outgrown blushing ages ago, when she was a child. Her entire adult life she had never blushed or giggled or swooned. She normally would have added “or cried” to her mental repertoire of girly things she did not do…. But she could no longer boast about her stiff upper lip. Not around this guy, at least.

  She thought she caught his lips twitching up at the corner as if he was suppressing a smile. Her eyes narrowed. “You wanted to talk, so talk.”

  “Why did you lie to me earlier?” His blue eyes held hers hostage. She found herself unable to look away.

  She blurted out the first lie that came to mind. “I’m a compulsive liar.”

  Both sides of his mouth were twitching now, and she watched in fascination as he pressed them together in a hard line. “And here I thought you just didn’t want to go out with me.”

  She breathed in quickly, her equilibrium once more off balance by his unexpected response. He was laughing at her. Which was why she didn’t feel the tiniest twinge of guilt when she said, “Yeah, that too.”

  That wiped the laughter off his face, but her satisfaction was short-lived. He leaned in—not far enough to be invading her personal space but enough that his warm, masculine scent enveloped her, making her light-headed.

  “In that case, I guess I was wrong.”

  She blinked up at him, temporarily dazed by his closeness. “Hmmm?” She couldn’t focus on his words, not when he was this close. If she leaned in just a little she could touch him, the way she’d been dying to do since that night. If she tilted her head up and moved an inch in his direction, he would kiss her.

  “I guess I was wrong,” he repeated. She dimly noted that he sounded nearly as dazed as she felt. With unabashed fascination she watched his eyes darken with desire, sending her own pulse racing.

  “I thought there was a connection here,” he said. “A spark.”

  A spark. Alice couldn’t stop the breathless laugh that escaped her at that understatement. This was no spark—it was electric bolts arcing, it was lightning streaking, it was a high-voltage current between them.

  “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he said, his low voice washing over her, making her muscles weaken and tremble.

  Me too. But she couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

  He shifted closer so he was filling her entire vision—the heat of his body enveloping her. Her senses were flooded by the sheer maleness and the primal attraction that was pulling her toward him like gravity.

  “Ever since that night,” he said.

  He may have continued talking, but Alice could no longer hear. That night. The words and accompanying memory were a blast of frigid air to her overheated body and lust-addled brain. A memory, sharp and vivid, cut through the haze of desire. Her sobbing like a baby, looking like a disaster, losing her control for the first time in forever.

  And he had seen it all.

  The wave of horror that swept through her was made more intense by the fact that she’d nearly swooned at this man’s feet. He hadn’t even touched her and she’d been practically panting with desire.

  Her back straightened as her muscles stiffened, arming herself physically and mentally against this man’s effect. She drew in a deep breath and readied herself to reject him. Tell him that he was not welcome here—he read the signals wrong. There was no chemistry here. Lie, lie, lie.

  Before the words could come out, he leaned over, closing the distance between them and claiming her lips in a kiss that was tender and gentle.

  The initial contact robbed her brain of all thoughts—her protests dying in her throat as pleasure rippled through her. His lips moved against hers, gentle but insistent. There was no hesitation as he urged her lips apart, his tongue seeking, relentless until she parted for him, allowing him to take full possession, his hand cupping the back of her neck, tilting her head for more access. The force of his desire made her moan, and the sound seemed to snap his control.

  His free hand, which had been setting lightly against her hip, moved around her waist and he pulled her up against him with an urgency that left her breathless. She was pressed against him from head to toe, his chest a solid wall against her breasts, and the hard length of him pressed against her lower belly, making
her ache between her thighs.

  A hunger swept through her, leaving her mindless and needy as her hands tried to touch him everywhere, her lips matching his intensity, and her tongue meeting his thrust for thrust.

  He pulled back first, leaning his forehead against hers as they struggled to catch their breath. Her hands itched to pull him back in for more, but she held herself still, willing her body to stop aching.

  This was wrong. Hadn’t she decided to turn him away? This man was dangerous. He’d seen her vulnerable, he saw through her bravado. She needed to keep him away.

  But her body was not having it. Even as she told herself to reject him, her fingers buried themselves in the short hair at the back on his neck, and she found herself rubbing up against him, her breasts crushing against his chest as her belly rubbed against his erection.

  His groan was low and pained. “We shouldn’t,” he said, his voice barely more than a growl.

  No, they shouldn’t. That was her line. But if she pushed him away now, her body would never forgive her. She would lie awake all night tossing and turning, imagining what might have been.

  Screw that. Since when did she run away from a hot sexual encounter? She never had before, so why the hell would she do it now. To deny herself would be to give this man more power than he was worth. This was physical attraction, that was all. He’d all but said it himself. She could do attraction—lust and desire were nothing to fear. That was one of the reasons she kept her love life to three-date maximums. Just enough time to explore the physical attraction without getting attached. Why would it be any different with this man?

  It wouldn’t, not as long as she set the ground rules. Excitement added to her breathless anticipation. She could do this—she could explore the chemistry here between them on her terms.

  A wicked, delicious idea was forming, and before she could think it through—before her rational mind could talk her out of it—her body made the decision for her. “One night,” she whispered, her hands moving from his neck to his shoulders and down over his hard chest.

  He drew back slightly, his gaze fixed on her. “What?” The mindless, drugged expression was gratifying—at least she wasn’t the only one reeling.

  She didn’t bother to repeat what she’d said. It didn’t matter if he was on board, what mattered was that she knew the rules. One night. Not three like the others—three would be too dangerous. But one…one night would be enough to get him out of her system, enough to satisfy her curiosity and quench this overwhelming desire.

  And then he would be gone. For good. Just like the others.

  She watched as the dazed look in his eyes was replaced by regret. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” he started. “I didn’t mean—”

  She cut him off with a kiss—rising up on her tiptoes to press her lips against his, sucking on his lower lip until he caved with a groan. His arms around her tightened and he moved one hand down to her lower back, pressing her against him. When she arched her hips in a silent invitation, his mouth on hers turned brutal and he slid his hand down further to cup her ass and bring her hips up to meet his.

  The hard length of him rocked against her core, and the exquisite torture of it had her head falling back with a moan. He dipped his head to kiss her neck and nibble on her ear.

  As she lost her balance, they stumbled back a couple of steps until her back hit her door with a dull thud.

  Oh Jesus, they were still in the hallway.

  She turned and fumbled with the key that was in the door, her breath coming in gasps as he came up close behind her so her bottom was cupped against him, his arms tightening around her waist, his hands slipping over her stomach and up her waist.

  The door burst open just as his hands were about to cup her breasts.

  “Inside,” she gasped, stumbling through the doorway. “Now.”

  * * * *

  He should leave. This was getting out of hand. He wanted to date this woman, not take advantage of her. Three dates, that was the rule, right? Three dates and then sex. Not sex and then dates. But he could tell himself that until he was blue in the face and it wouldn’t have made a difference. An army of men couldn’t have torn him away from her at that moment.

  As soon as they were both inside, she spun around so she was back in his arms, and he did the unthinkable—he grabbed her and lifted her up into his arms like a goddamned caveman. But rather than protest, she wrapped her long legs around his waist and grinded up against him.

  Holy shit, she was hot. This drop-dead beautiful redhead was a ball of flames in his arms. Every time sense attempted to rear its ugly head, she would silence it with a wicked stroke of her tongue or a tempting touch of her hands until finally he forgot why he was fighting it.

  She pulled back, her fingers turning to the buttons of his shirt. He glanced around the spacious studio until his eyes fell on the bed. In three quick strides, he brought them to the edge of the bed, and he gently laid her down.

  Holy hell, she was gorgeous. Those green eyes were heavy-lidded and hypnotic, her lush lips parted, waiting for his next kiss. She was dressed for business, with a silky red top and a tight-fitting pencil skirt that hugged her hips and showed off her hourglass figure. Wiggling up onto her elbows, her lips curved up into a seductive smile. “Are you just going to stand there all night or are you going to undress me?”

  Words escaped him. It was like his best fantasies had come to life. Then he snapped into action, his body taking control while his brain took a leave of absence. He fell on top of her, bracing his weight on his elbows as their bodies pressed together, meshing and molding—the perfect fit, even through the layers of clothes. Her head fell back, her eyes closed.

  She felt it, too—this connection.

  Whatever doubts and reservations he’d been battling fell away, crushed by the blind lust that coursed through him. He saw the same desire reflected in her heavy-lidded gaze and it drove him crazy, adding fuel to the fire inside him that erased all thoughts and had his lips moving over the sensitive skin at her neck, needing to taste her, to feel her. Needing to be as close to her as humanly possible—desperate to become one with her.

  Her head arched back, giving his mouth full access to the sweet, tender skin below her ear and her pants for air went straight to his head. He wanted this to be good for her. Better than good, he had to show her how right they were together.

  Her arms wrapped around him, kneading his shoulders and neck as she pulled him closer until her breasts were pressed against his chest, making them both moan.

  His fingers made quick work of her blouse and she’d already undone his buttons so soon they were topless and pressed together, the feel of her lush curves against his hot skin almost more than he could bear. He pulled away long enough to look down at her, soak in the beauty that lay before him. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he groaned.

  She pulled him back to her and he thought he heard her say, “No talking,” before her lips claimed his again, luring him into a deep, long kiss that erased all words from his vocabulary.

  His hands came up to cup her breasts and her whimper against his lips made him ache with desire, yes, but also an innate protectiveness. She was his to cherish. His to protect.

  His to adore.

  He dropped his head to worship her perfect breasts, covering them with kisses before finally caving in to his desire and settling his lips over a nipple, sucking gently as she moaned and writhed beneath him. Her hands in his hair held him to her as he licked and kissed one nipple before moving on to give equal attention to the other.

  “More,” she whispered above him, tugging him up to meet her lips once more for a hot, messy, open-mouthed kiss that echoed the primal need coursing through him.

  Her hips were wriggling beneath his, arching up trying to get closer. With every move, he hardened further until he was mindless with red-hot desire. In unspoken communication, she lifted her hips, and he unfastened her skirt, tugging i
t down, and tossing it aside.

  She was clad in nothing but pink silk panties, and he fought the urge to tear them off her and claim her in one quick thrust.

  He had to make this good. He needed to be sure she wanted this—wanted him. Coming to lie beside her, he slipped a hand over her panties, biting back a groan of pure male pleasure of the feel of her hot wetness as she spread her legs for him and pressed herself against his palm, her head tossing from side to side.

  She was ready. She needed this as badly as he did. He moved over her, leaning down to place one light kiss to the V between her thighs, his lips brushing over the pink silk softly, briefly.

  She cried out his name at the feather-light touch and Nicholas lost his battle for composure. Tugging off the last barrier between them, he cast her panties to the side. “Condoms?”

  She threw a hand toward her nightstand. “Top drawer.”

  He found the box, wrapped himself in a condom, and settled in between the thighs that parted for him in welcome.

  When he buried himself inside her, he lost himself completely to the overwhelming and entirely new sensation of coming home. She was the perfect fit, and as her liquid heat surrounded him, he heard her moan against his throat. She felt it, too. This coming together—it was perfection.

  He moved slowly inside her, wanting to draw out the delicious torture, needing to take her to the farthest heights before they found their release.

  Her hips met his thrust for thrust, and he watched in fascination as her head fell back, her eyelids fell shut, and she surrendered herself to him. It was as humbling as it was erotic.

  His forehead fell against hers as the tension grew and the pace intensified—only when she cried out in ecstasy did he allow himself to follow her over the edge.

  After they came back to earth, he lay prone at her side as their breathing evened. He’d followed her over the edge, he thought again. And he would do it again in a heartbeat. As he started to drift off, it struck him.