Amy Andrews - The Surgeon's Meant-To-Be Bride

Harriet shook her head vehemently. ‘No.’ She knew what would happen if she put her foot over the line. His quarters were three metres by three and dominated by an unmade bed and an undressed man.

‘Harriet,’ he sighed, but she could see the sparkle of amusement lighting his eyes. ‘I’m not going to discuss our divorce with you in the corridor.’

His rich, deep voice oozed like warm chocolate, coating her in its sweet, sticky web. He held out his hand to her. It sounded so reasonable. She looked behind her at the empty hallway and hesitated briefly, before taking his hand and feeling the gentle tug pulling her over the line.

When he reached behind her and pulled her hair free she didn’t protest. Neither did she when he kissed her. In fact, she welcomed it greedily, ready to join in this dance they did so well, eager to be naked with him one last time.

Harriet had felt the pull the moment he had opened the door and had known deep inside that resistance was useless. She could pretend as much as she liked that it was over between them, but she knew this would never be over. This insane lust that had blinded her with its ferocity for seven years.

He’d sign the papers and their union would be broken, but this endless urge to be with him, to know him carnally every time they were together, could never be broken. Her only hope was distance. Come tomorrow she was staying the hell away from him—for ever!

Harriet felt a quiver low in her abdomen as the sheer hunger and force of his kiss had her clinging to his broad naked shoulders. She heard him groan her name into her mouth and she whimpered in response.

‘Harry,’ he said again, tearing his mouth away and looking searchingly into her eyes as his breath came in harsh gasps, his grey eyes stormy with passion.

She claimed his mouth quickly, empowered by his almost bewildered look. The fact that she could do to him what he did to her was a powerful aphrodisiac and she felt her kiss become wild and savage against his full lips. Just for one last time she wanted him to realise what he was turning his back on.

Her hands roamed to the smooth muscles of his chest, trailed down his flat abdomen, and she took pleasure in their quick response to her touch. She could feel them contract beneath her nails and when she slipped her hands beneath his boxer shorts to grab handfuls of his tight buttocks she grinned in triumph as the hardness of his erection pushed urgently between her hips.

Gill grasped the bottom of her scrubs top and whipped it over her head in a swift movement. He didn’t bother fumbling with her bra clasp but yanked the cups aside, freeing her breasts and roughly stroked his thumbs over her nipples until they peaked into hard nubs.

He pushed her backwards and she fell against the rumpled bed. Harriet had a moment of clarity when she realised how she must look. Half-naked, her hair spread in wild abandon against the sheets, her bra ripped aside, her breasts achingly aroused. Then Gill removed his boxers and all rational thought fled.

He stood for a moment tall and proud, just looking at her with more lust than she’d known existed in the whole world. He wasn’t embarrassed by his arousal and already she wanted to feel its silky smoothness in her hands, her mouth, deep inside her.

She licked her dry lips and noticed Gill’s eyes widen at the unintentional come-on. He reached down and pulled the cord at her waist that held her scrubs up and yanked both them and her undies down in one swift movement. Now she lay totally naked before him as he stood before her, and she couldn’t stop the whimper of need that escaped her mouth or holding her arms out to him in silent consent.

And then his weight was on her and his mouth was everywhere. Drawing wet circles around her breasts and sucking her nipples to tortured peaks, nibbling her earlobes, tickling her stomach and licking inside her until she thought she would faint from the need.

And then when the desire built to fever pitch his mouth claimed hers and he let his fingers do the walking. They stroked and caressed and danced their way all over her body, and when he put them deep inside her she had to bite hard on her lip to stop the scream. Even crazed with lust, she remembered how thin the walls were!

‘Now,’ she whispered urgently, clinging to his neck as his fingers wove a magical rhythm and she could feel her orgasm rushing out from deep inside her, threatening to engulf her at any second.

Their gazes locked as he plunged inside her. Each stroke hurtled her closer, at each stroke his eyes seemed to dare hers to close. She refused. She would not look away or shut her eyes, even as the pressure built. She wanted to look straight at him as she came. She wanted to watch his eyes as he came, too. She wanted their last time to be indelibly imprinted on her retinas. She wanted to see his face as he lost control inside her.

Harriet bit down on her lip as the first wave broke against the shore.

‘Say it. I want to hear you,’

The demand was magnified by his panting breaths, trying to hold off his own pleasure until she’d reached nirvana as well. Harriet shook her head. If she let it out, the earth would shake and the parrots in the sparse trees outside would lift in noisy flight and every doctor and nurse in the complex would be woken from their slumbers.

‘Let it out,’ he demanded again.

She shook her head again and tried to internalise the orgasm that was eroding the edges of her endurance.

‘I want to hear you,’ he said. ‘One last time, Harry. Let me hear you.’

Harriet felt the guttural noise move through her from the tips of her toes, gaining momentum until the sheer enormity of it demanded an escape. She held his gaze, noticing the sheen of sweat on his brow, and realised she could stem the noise and the tide no longer.

‘Please, Harry.’ His voice was halfway between begging and groaning and she knew that she didn’t have the power to deny him this one last request. And she wanted to anyway. She wanted to yell and scream like a banshee. She wanted their last time to be memorable, imprinted on his mind for ever. So she let herself go, crying out his name as the tumult of her orgasm flung her into the far reaches of the galaxy.

She vaguely heard his voice joining hers, crying out in abandon as she hovered above the earth, amongst the stars, at one with the beauty of the heavens.

0800 HOURS

‘THE papers, Gill.’

Dr Guillaume Remy had been enjoying the disconnected feeling of being outside his body, letting his mind drift through the silky tendrils of sexual limbo. In the strange world between slumber and wakefulness he could forget about the papers lying discarded on his floor and that the woman he loved no longer wanted to be with him.

There was only the wonderful haze of pleasure that reached deep into his bones, making him feel heavy and weightless all at the same time. A semi-conscious state halfway between arousal and satisfaction that he wished they could stay in for ever. He supposed this was the high that drug addicts craved and thanked his lucky stars he didn’t need to inject anything to attain it.

He just needed Harriet. Oh, sure, he was no novice. He’d had his share of women with whom he’d experienced sexual pleasure before his marriage, but Harry…it had never been like this with anyone but her. They were so perfectly in tune, so intimately in sync, that sex with her was an addiction he doubted he’d ever manage to control.

They’d been apart for a year but when she’d rejoined his team two months ago it had been as if their separation had never happened. The way she talked and the way she laughed and the way she moved and her smell were as familiar to him as breathing. The way she kissed him, caressed him, touched him was still the biggest thrill he had ever known.