Moonlight over Manhattan (From Manhattan with Love 6)

He rubbed his hands down her arms and then folded her close, using his body to protect her from the icy bite of the winter air.

She felt fragile, but he knew she wasn’t fragile.

“It’s cold.” Although right now he didn’t feel cold. He felt nothing but heat.

She stayed in the shelter of his arms, her forehead resting on his chest so that all he could see was the top of her head.

He had a feeling she was making a decision about something, hovering on the edge of something, not sure whether to step forward or not. He probably should have stepped back, but he didn’t want to.

For a moment she said nothing, and then she lifted her head. Her eyes shone with anticipation. “It is cold. Shall we go inside?”

She was inviting him in and it was obvious that she had more than coffee and warmth in mind.

A better man than him would have refused. He probably should have refused. But somehow he found himself following her up the stairs to her apartment. She’d added a few more festive touches since he’d helped her with the Christmas tree—a bowl of silver pinecones, strings of Christmas lights that added warmth to the welcome.

Apart from books, his apartment was minimalist. So minimalist that his sister teased him that if anyone broke in they’d leave empty-handed because they’d assume the place was unoccupied. Standing in Harriet’s cozy apartment he wondered whether perhaps he should buy a few cushions. Maybe a plant or two. A rug like the one she had, in muted shades of green?

There was no overhead lighting, just lamps that bathed the room in a golden glow, picking out the sunlit yellow walls and the blue sofas. Fresh flowers provided a bright splash of color on a day when the world outside the window was winter white. It was like being outdoors on a sunny day. Just stepping over the threshold instantly made a person feel better.

“Would you like a drink?”

He wondered if she was having second thoughts.

“Not unless you do.” What he wanted was her. Shy, or not shy, he didn’t give a damn as long as she was naked and with him all the way.

They exchanged a single look and then she was in his arms again and he was kissing her as if this was going to be the last thing they ever did on this earth. They crashed into the door, their combined weight slamming it shut and he braced his arm against it, caging her.

She breathed his name against his lips, then fumbled with his coat and he took over, dealing with buttons as he crushed her against the door and claimed her mouth with his. They kissed as if they had no choice in the matter, as if it were life-giving, as essential as breathing. They kissed without pausing or breaking off as they undressed. Her hair clung to the wool of his coat and he pushed it away from her face, his fingers sliding through snow-dampened strands of scented silk as he devoured her mouth with his.

His coat hit the floor first, then hers, closely followed by the rest of their clothes.

He’d promised himself that if this ever happened he’d take his time and savor every second, but now there was nothing but urgency and desperation as if by slowing down he might lose the moment or, worse, lose her. He caught a glimpse of creamy flesh, a flash of gold, the peep of dusky pink and he didn’t know whether to look or touch. All he knew was that he didn’t want this to stop.

He had no idea what would happen tomorrow but right now, today, she was all he wanted.

“Bedroom,” he groaned, and she pushed at his chest, gesturing vaguely with her hand.

Drunk with desire, they stumbled across the apartment to her bed and tumbled, crushing her beneath

him. Heat and desire escalated to alarming levels. He kissed his way down her body, his tongue slowly tracing the rosy pink tips of her breasts. It was like being plunged straight into summer. Strawberries and cream. Sunshine and warmth. Her breathing grew choppy. Soft gasps turned to low moans, sweet sounds as he found all her sensitive places, leaving no part of her untouched or unexplored.

“Ethan, Ethan,” she murmured his name, shifting against the sheets, as he took liberties, shifting their relationship from one of friendship to deep intimacy.

And then he realized his wallet, with the one essential item he needed, was on the floor of the living room in his pocket.

In that one, brief moment he finally understood why people occasionally chose to be reckless.

It took all his willpower to drag himself away from her, especially as she protested.

“Don’t move,” he muttered, glancing at her splayed body the way a starving man might view his first home-cooked meal in a year.

He moved with the swift efficiency and focus honed and sharpened by years in the ER, and was back before she’d even had a chance to lift her head.

She stared at him, her gaze unfocused.

“Ethan—”

“I know—I know, baby.” He pushed her thighs apart and slid his hand under her bottom, lifting her. She moved with him, her body a graceful arch, and he was about to thrust deep when he remembered what she’d said about not enjoying sex very much. However desperate he was feeling, he was determined she was going to enjoy this. More than enjoy it, so he forced himself to back off and instead of entering her, he pushed her legs wider and kissed his way down to the golden shadows of her thighs, using his tongue to taste and tease, licking into her until she was crying his name and couldn’t stay still unless he held her. Finally, after he’d driven her half-mad, he eased himself over her, taking his time, holding back. He entered her slowly, by degrees, keeping his rhythm gentle and careful. He drew her arms above her head and locked his fingers with hers, holding her hands and her gaze as each thrust took him deeper. He felt her close around him, felt her flesh ripple against the sensual invasion, and even though it half killed him to do it, he forced himself to pause.