Charlotte Hawkes - The Surgeon's Baby Surprise

She was the first person to ever make him think about anything other than his career as a surgeon. To ever make him wonder if there was more out there for him than just reaching the very pinnacle of his speciality. It had only been that phone call from his parents, on the last evening of his time with Evie, that had unwittingly brought him back to earth.

They were skilled surgeons but cold, selfish parents, and his childhood had been bleak and lonely, a time he rarely cared to look back on. Talking to them that night had reminded him why he would not put any wife, any family, through the only home life he had known. It was a choice. Be a pioneering surgeon, or be a good family man. Never both.

And he could imagine that a family was what Evie would want. What she would deserve.

So he’d thrown himself into his eight-month tour in Gaza, appreciating the challenging working conditions, the difference he was making—and the fact that it was providing a welcome distraction from memories of that one wanton, wild, yet exquisitely feminine woman. However many amazing, lifesaving surgeries he’d performed, he’d always gone back to his tent at night wishing he could share the day’s events with Evie. Wishing he were sliding into his emperor-sized bed with her rather than dropping onto his tiny cot, alone.

Yet now she was standing here in front of him, and he wanted her as much as he ever had, telling himself that the only reason he hadn’t walked away from her was because she clearly needed someone to talk to. A flimsy excuse, since she clearly wasn’t jumping at the chance of opening up to him. Just as they’d revelled in the sex but both been so careful to avoid much personal conversation those five hot-as-hell nights together.

‘I think you do know,’ he contradicted quietly. ‘This is about more than just your sister-in-law and her kidney transplant, isn’t it?’

Evie bit her lip, refusing to meet his eye.

‘What do you mean?’

She didn’t want to talk. But she probably needed to.

‘You’re concerned for her, frightened for her? That’s understandable. But I’m guessing this is more about you feeling as though you need to be the strong one because you’re the doctor, and people are looking to you for the answers.’

She chanced a glance at him but didn’t answer, so he pushed on.

‘It’s very different being on the other side of the fence when you’re used to being the one making the decisions, but I’m guessing you can’t talk to Annie, or your brother, about your fears. So I’m offering for you to talk to me instead.’

‘Why would you do that?’

She sounded bewildered. Was he really that unapproachable?

‘Because I once told you I respect you as one professional to another.’

‘I see.’

Was that a flash of disappointment? She shook her head, the moment gone.

‘I can’t.’

If he simply walked away then he’d feel like a cad. But if he pushed her then he risked misleading her into thinking that he was open to something more between them.

‘Can’t, or won’t?’

She opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again.

‘Can’t. I want to, Max, more than you know. But I can’t.’

There was no reason for his chest to constrict at her words. Yet it did. He gritted his teeth. As long as he could persuade her that there was nothing more between them—that he wasn’t remembering how incredible it had been to undress her, lay her on the bed and kiss her until she came undone at his every touch—then she might talk to him. And she definitely needed to talk to somebody.

‘Fine, let’s discuss the elephant in the room.’

She swallowed hard.

‘So, we had a one-night stand—’

‘Five nights,’ she interrupted, flushing bright red.

He felt a kick of pleasure. So it mattered to her?

‘Okay, five nights,’ he conceded, allowing himself a lopsided grin and watching her carefully. ‘Five nights of, frankly, mind-blowing sex.’

She flushed again, crossing her arms over her chest as if to reinforce an invisible barrier between them. But it was too late—he’d seen the way her pupils dilated in pleasure at his words. She might not want to talk to him, but she was certainly still attracted to him.

Her breathing was slightly more rapid, shallower than before, the movement snagging his eye to the satin-soft skin his fingers recalled even now. Her lips parted oh-so-slightly as her tongue flicked out to leave a sheen glistening on her lips. An action that he’d experienced in other ways over those five nights. An age-old response had his body growing taut.

He needed to walk away.

He couldn’t.

He closed the gap between them until he could feel her breath on his skin, smell that mandarin shampoo of hers in his nostrils.

‘It doesn’t have to be over,’ he muttered hoarsely. ‘Neither of us have the time or inclination for wasting time playing at relationships. But we’re both consenting adults, why not enjoy the sex?’

‘Just sex?’ she whispered again.

He couldn’t help it. Before he could stop himself, he reached his hand out and slid his fingers under her chin to tilt her head up. Her eyes finally met his and the sensation was like an electric shock through his body.

‘Just sex,’ he ground out, as much to remind himself as to convince her.

For a moment he thought she was going to turn him down, but suddenly she raised her hand to catch his and held it against her cheek. Closing her eyes, she rested her chin in his palm as though drawing strength.

‘Evie.’ His other hand laced through her silky hair to draw her to him; he inhaled her gentle scent, so painfully familiar. The feel of her hands gripping his shoulders then running down his upper arms, the way her breasts brushed against his chest, heating him even through the material that separated them both.

And then his mouth was on hers and Max couldn’t be sure which one of them had closed the gap first. He didn’t really care. With one hand still threaded through her hair, he trailed the other hand down her cheek, her neck, her chest, feeling her arch her back to push her breast into his palm.

He heard his low growl of anticipation as the hard nipple grazed his palm through the layers of thin cotton, dropping his hand so that he could flick his thumb across it. He dropped down to perch on the corner of the table as she moved over him and his thigh wedged between her legs, which pressed against him so that he could feel the heat at their apex. He dropped his other hand down her back to cup her wonderfully rounded backside, smaller than he recalled. And then she kissed him intensely and it was just the two of them as everything else fell away.

‘God, I want you,’ he groaned.

‘How much?’ she whispered.

‘You must know the answer to that,’ he rasped out, her uncertainty surprising him. The woman he’d known last year hadn’t needed validation or reassurance, she’d been sexily confident in her own skin. Still, if she wanted him to show her then he was more than willing to oblige.

But before he could act, Evie had tugged his shirt out, the buttons opening easily beneath those nimble fingers of hers. Dipping her head, she nipped and kissed his body that was leaner and tighter than ever. It ought to be—he’d been hitting his home gym hard ever since his return from Gaza, the only way he could burn off excess energy since he hadn’t wanted to sleep with any other woman since Evie.

As she made her way back up to his lips Max pulled her back into him, his hands sliding under the fitted blouse that followed the curves of her pert breasts, revelling in the way her breath caught in her throat.

Suddenly he froze. Her once slender form felt thin. Too thin. He could actually count her ribs. He drew back shaking his head; nothing was as clear or sharp as usual. Was he missing something?