God, he was tired. He'd monitored patients through the night before. What was it about this particular mother and daughter that drained his reserves more than a wardful of patients? She'd bombarded his defenses until he'd stupidly indulged in morose psychobabble garbage.
Time to shake it off pal. If he was that tired, then Lori must be past exhaustion. She needed to be in her own bed.
Gray stood and checked Magda, careful not to wake her, then scooped Lori into his arms. Just like a few days before, a year ago, she snuggled in for a secure fit. Thank heaven she slept on though. He wasn't up to resisting any more of her groggy gropings.
Limp with deep sleep, Lori didn't stir during his walk down the hall to her bedroom. He lowered her to her bed and tucked her under the covers with lingering hands.
Lori's towering four-poster canopy bed enticed him to stay. The door finished its swing in, the lean of the house and gravity at work until the door clicked shut as if defying him to leave. A bottle of peach lotion waited on the bedside table like an invitation to remember things he could never forget, anyway.
Lori's hand trailed down his arm and held fast to his hand. "Stay. Sleep."
Did she know what she was offering? Or was she talking in her sleep again, trapped in the familiarity of a year ago?
Gray found her eyes open, fairly clear. Her touch was steady and warm. "Stay."
He thought of mentioning Magda as an excuse, but beside Lori's bed the nursery monitor glowed with a single red light. Magda's gentle snuffling floated through the device. He would hear her if she called out from down the hall.
Too tired to argue or pull his hand free, Gray lay beside Lori. On top of the fluffy comforter. No use tempting fate. He would just grab a little shut-eye in case Lori or Magda needed him, easier than making the cross-town drive again.
Taking care of Magda, then falling victim to Lori's gentle prodding left him more wiped out than he'd been after a Desert Storm mission. Gray closed his eyes and hoped like hell combat-induced dreams wouldn't chase him into sleep.
Chapter 10
Lori settled deeper into the most incredible dream. And it involved plastering herself against Gray's warm, solid body.
Surrendering to the dream proved irresistible. She'd been so long without. Without him.
Her hungry hands climbed over his back, along the rippling cut of muscles and pure man. Her fingers itched with impatience to feel him, not the well-worn T-shirt. A frantic trek to his waist brought her to the hem of his shirt. She tunneled inside.
Skin to skin she touched him. Her face buried in his neck, she inhaled, snuggled closer, pressed her lips to the delicious salty taste of his shoulder. She kicked her down-filled comforter to the foot of the bed so she could cuddle closer.
Gray groaned. Somewhere in her hazy mind she heard him, felt him turn his face to her.
"Lori?"
Instinct guided her mouth to his before he could say more.
Searing, hot need painted vibrant reds and blues on the backs of her eyelids. Heat combusted within her, sleep evaporating. Her hands paused, tensed. What was she doing? Other than almost passing out with pleasure just because she had Gray's mouth against her, fully, finally.
She thought of pulling away. For all of one practical second.
Lori twisted her fingers in his hair and yanked Gray closer. Hard. No doubt, remnants of sleep clouded her judgment. She didn't care. How could she think, much less reason while her legs tangled themselves with Gray's?
She worked her lips over his in a silent, demanding plea he couldn't miss, hopefully couldn't resist. Opening, urging, she traced her tongue along his mouth, then nipped at his bottom lip. Again, harder.
His lips parted with a hungry growl. Bold, strong hands clamped along her back, one on her waist, the other between her shoulder blades, both firm and insistent.
Forget about deluding herself into thinking that sleep muddled her reactions. She knew exactly what she was doing and simply couldn't stop.
The past year slid away as their tongues tangled, tasted, tempted. Her hands remembered he liked the brush of her thumbs just below his jaw, along his collarbone, over his small, flat nipples. Gray traced a tantalizing touch down her spine, one vertebra at a time until she was ready to scream with the need for more, had done so often before. He had to remember, too, and that stirred her to a near frenzy as she thought of what would come next.
If only they didn't stop.
Gray rolled her to her back, anchoring her to the mattress and the moment as she stared up into his glittering eyes. Her shirt scrunched up. His followed. Gray's bristly chest rasped her br**sts to agonizing tightness. Her fingers crawled down his back, found their way into his shorts and gripped his taut buttocks.
His shorts inched low on his hips, hers following as Lori rocked against Gray. With frightening ease, they recaptured their familiar rhythm. Together, but frustratingly incomplete as two layers of cotton separated them.
He was such a great kisser, and Lori loved to kiss. Loved to kiss him, loved to look at him. Her leg hooked around Gray's hip, and he grabbed the back of her knee. Their boxers inched lower, his as well as hers, with Lori's every restless, needy wriggle. The hard, hot length of him pressed to her, so close, so intimate. No longer feeling cotton, just Gray, she savored that moment of delicious realization just before…