A Surgeon to Heal Her Heart

She wanted him to make love to her. Tonight. Now.

The thought hit Carly with the same force as he’d been pounding the nails into the board. They were in her bedroom, he was toying with her hair, and her body was surging with years of pent-up hormones.

She was no seductress. Even with Tony, he’d been the one to initiate sex. But she longed for the knowledge, the prowess, the skills to make this man want her.

No, for him to crave her, need to have her.

Staring at the pulse beating at his throat, she saw him swallow, realized he might be thinking the same thing she was, only was afraid to push because she’d been so adamant that she didn’t have time for a relationship. She didn’t. They were supposed to just be friends.

Who was she fooling? Just being friends with Stone was impossible.

Not taking whatever he’d give her was impossible.

Acting on instinct, she pushed her hair aside, exposing the curve of her neck, and whispered, “Your lips.”

His startled gaze connected with hers. “Carly?”

“Kiss me, Stone. Please, kiss me there.” She placed a fingertip on her lips. “Here.” This time it was her swallowing. “Everywhere.”

“Carly, I—”

“You told me you wanted me,” she interrupted, not willing to listen to any arguments he might make. She didn’t want logic or reasons why they shouldn’t. She wanted him. “You said you wanted to help me,” she reminded him, rubbing her palms over his shoulders, slowly and with purpose. “Then help me to forget, Stone. Make me forget everything except you and me. Make love to me like you need me as much as I need you right now.”

* * *

Stone’s brain reminded him of all the things he’d decided while out on her porch.

His brain was no match for Carly’s sweet plea.

No match for the raging need that overflowed from him at her words.

Carly wanted him to make love to her, was asking him to do what he desperately wanted to do. The vulnerability shining in her eyes warned that if he turned her down he’d shatter whatever confidence had let her be able to tell him her desires.

Like a fragile butterfly, she was attempting to emerge from the cocoon she’d been hidden in for so long and she was asking him to help her spread her wings.

He felt humbled.

And lucky.

Carly wanted him. Reason left him. Need filled him. Need to give her everything she asked of him.

“No worries about your hair, Carly. It’s beautiful, and if it gets in my way, I’ll push it aside.” He ran his fingers into her hair, nuzzled her neck, felt shivers cover his body. “You smell good.”

“I jumped in the shower. I’ve been working all day, taking care of Mom.” Even as she arched into his touch, her voice quivered with a nervousness that made him want to reassure her.

He shook his head. “I don’t need to taste soap and water, Carly. I want you on my lips.”

“Good, that’s what I want.” Her fingers dug into his shoulders. “I want to taste you, too, Stone. I feel as if I’ll shrivel up inside if I don’t have your lips against mine.”

He groaned.

Despite how her words thrilled him, he didn’t move to her mouth, just continued to explore the curve of her neck, licking and nipping at the sensitive flesh, liking the soft sounds of pleasure in her throat.

His hands slipped beneath her T-shirt, pulled it up over her head. “You’re beautiful, Carly. So beautiful.”

She mumbled something, but he couldn’t make out what, because, gaze locked with his, she reached around and undid her bra clasp and let the scrap of material fall to the floor.

Moving against him, chest pressed against his through the thin material of his T-shirt, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled his mouth to hers and kissed him.

Hard, passionate, full of heat.

Heaven, he thought. That was what she tasted of. Heaven.

Time faded away. The world faded away.

He caressed her, kissed her, put every bit of her to memory.

She touched him with the same fervor, with the same burning need, as she pulled his shirt off him, stared at his chest with such desire and admiration he wanted to let out a roar of pride.

“How do you manage to look like that and have an impressive brain?” she asked, bending to kiss first one pec then the other.

His muscles tightened to hard knots. “Am I not supposed to be healthy because I have a brain?”

“This…” she trailed kisses down his chest, over his abs “…goes beyond healthy.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Yeah, you should, but looking at you makes me feel as if I should put my clothes back on,” she admitted, giving voice to her insecurities and bringing out every protective gene in his being.