A Surgeon for the Single Mom

‘Tak, listen...’

And then he licked his way into her and a thousand fireworks went off in her head all at once. Long, slow strokes of his tongue were followed by darting little licks which had her lips moving entirely of their own volition, her hands reaching down to his hair. She slid her fingers into the thick depths, urging him on as if she couldn’t help herself.

Frankly, she couldn’t.

She wanted Tak so badly that it almost scared her.

And for his part he seemed to read her mind, knowing what she needed from him even before she knew it herself. His tongue was like a weapon, conquering her and inflaming her all at once, whipping her up until she felt she couldn’t take any more. And then he eased back long enough for her to catch her breath before stoking her up all over again.

Effie was powerless to stop him. Not that she really wanted to. Beneath his mouth her hips rocked and lifted, as if she couldn’t get enough of him—and perhaps she couldn’t. Perhaps she never wanted this to end. But then he was driving her on, driving her upwards to where it was dazzling and spinning, and she knew there was no coming back from it this time.

And she broke apart. His mouth was still on her as she shattered around him, scarcely recognising the sounds coming from herself, only knowing that nothing would ever be the same again.

* * *

What the hell was he doing?

It took Tak a superhuman effort to stand up, away from Effie, but if he didn’t then he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to stop himself from claiming her as his—right there and then, protection be damned.

She was like no woman he’d ever been with before. Her taste was still in his mouth, her exquisite scent too, and all he could think was that he wanted more. He was greedy for her, aching for her. He wanted her completely.

But he couldn’t let that happen. Sex was one thing. Emotions were something quite different. Yet, as impossible as it seemed, where Effie was concerned the two seemed wholly intertwined.

Incredibly, his legs were actually shaking as he made himself move away.

‘Where are you going?’

Her low whisper halted him instantly. Evidence of her climax lingered in her tone, rushing straight to his sex as surely as if she’d taken hold of him.

‘This was a...’ he paused, unable to bring himself to say the word mistake ‘...an error of judgement.’

‘Oh.’

A bright red stain covered her cheeks and neck, but he pretended not to notice as he located her clothes and passed them to her. He wanted to take it back. To tell Effie that she was the most incredible creature. He would never know how he held his tongue. He only knew that if he gave her any indication of how close he was to losing control—if she tested him in any way—he would fail. He wouldn’t be able to resist her.

Such was her power over him. And the worst thing about it was that there was a part of him which silently urged Effie to do just that. Because failing to resist her would, at the end of the day, be a win.

Where was his damned T-shirt?

‘We won’t speak of this again,’ he ground out, trying not to notice how she still sat on the couch, gloriously naked and making no attempt to conceal the soft curves which seemed to call every last inch of his body.

And then she shifted—stiffly, awkwardly, yanking her T-shirt on and concealing herself from him. Tak feared his resolve might crumble there and then. His only saving grace was that she clearly had no idea of the inexplicable hold she had over him.

To hell with his T-shirt. He needed to get out of there.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

WALKING INTO THE hospital to check on old Mrs Kemp—a woman she’d brought in on her last shift, who had no family—Effie was congratulating herself on having successfully avoided Tak for four days.

Yesterday’s day off had been spent walking Nell to school, then spending the morning window shopping for things she couldn’t afford. Anything to stay out of Tak’s house. As huge as it was, it had felt small to her, knowing he was off too, that they could have spent the day together.

Today she’d come in to the hospital to see old Mrs Kemp and Tak was the last person she’d expected to see as she hurried on to the ward.

And he saw her instantly.

If only he’d been facing the other direction.

Unable to look away, or move, she simply stood there as he headed over, her throat dry. And Tak just walked closer and closer, until they were almost toe to toe. Not close enough to touch, but certainly enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her forehead. It was oddly intimate.