Page 21 of Seven Days
“Agreed.” She turns in my arms and sinks her fingers in my hair. “I’m going to go take a shower and see what you packed for me.”
I claim her mouth with mine, tempted to strip her down right here. Her sinful taste consumes me as her tongue glides along my own. I love feeling her soft, full lips. Ending our kisses is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I need to make a few calls to check on patients and return some emails.
I smack her ass after we break apart. “I have a little work to do; I’ll find you in a bit.”
I watch as she prances off into the house, and then take a seat on one of the lounge chairs, pulling my phone out. The first notification I see is a missed call from Jack. My stomach sours as I listen to his voicemail asking about Bri and thanking me yet again for taking such good care of her.
If he knew my version of taking care of her was fucking her on every available surface, I think his feelings would be very different. He and Bri are so close. They have been since the day his wife’s casket was lowered into the ground. I know this would forever change my friendship with him, but the last thing I want to come from this is a wedge driven between them.
This just hardens my resolve to end things on schedule, keeping to the rules. I know I’m already developing real feelings for her and sometimes the way she looks at me makes me think she could, too. But we have to keep fighting those feelings. For us. For Jack.
I send Jack a text back telling him that everything is great and that Bri is doing well. Both of which are true.
I spend another twenty minutes looking through notes and emails about the patients my colleagues have been providing care for during my time off. When I’m sure that I’ve seen everything of the highest importance, I sign out and text the office manager that I’ll be completely out of touch until Saturday.
The chef has already finished dinner and shown me where it’s being kept warm before I walk through the house in search of Bri. She’s fixing her hair when I find her. Her eyes meet mine in the mirror as I step into the bathroom.
“You’re a devilish man, you know that?” She smirks at me.
“Why?” I ask with feigned innocence.
“No panties. You packed everything I needed, but forgot underwear.”
“I guess you don’t need them, then.”
I run my hand down the soft, green cotton of the dress she’s wearing, over the curve of her hip. I’m glad I packed this one at the last minute. With her deeply tan skin and killer fucking body, this dress looks perfect. She is perfect.
* * *
10
BRIANNA
* * *
Thomas grabs my hand and leads me back through the house. Mischief sparkles in his green eyes as he looks over his shoulder at me. He looks so young and carefree at this moment, I wish I had a camera to capture it.
If I had my phone, I would try to sneak a photo. But before I took a shower, I checked my messages and saw at least a dozen texts from an unknown number. When I checked them, I realized they were all from Trevor. I blocked the new number, sent Dad and Sara check in messages, then turned off my phone. I want this trip to be about relaxing and feeling good.
Guilt from lying to my dad will eventually come. I just want to live in the moment. Sara can talk some sense into me later on, but right now I’m just going where life takes me. And as for Trevor, I don’t know. I don’t miss him. I don’t really even hurt. I just want him gone from my life.
“What are you thinking about up there?” I don’t even realize Thomas has stopped until he taps my temple, looking down at me.
“How I don’t want to think while we’re down here. I just want to live in the moment and feel.”
“Feel what?” he asks as he cups my cheek with hooded eyes.
“You. Us.” I swallow as his thumb glides over my lips. “Whatever this insane chemistry is between us.”
“Good answer.”
His lips take mine in a slow, sensual kiss and I gasp when he slides his fingers back into my hair and pulls at the roots, tilting my head back for an even deeper angle. Heat builds in my core as he breaks from my lips and begins kissing down my neck.
I begin unbuttoning his shirt, whimpering at the sharp bite of his teeth against my sensitive flesh. He unties the straps of my dress, my breasts falling free from the cotton that was supporting them. His skin is hot and smooth as I run my fingers up his torso to push the shirt off his wide shoulders.
“Turn around. Face down on the table, Siren.” He pushes me down gently. “I’m going to show you how the devil takes his dinner.”
He runs his fingers up the back of my legs, pushing my dress over my hips. With his foot, he moves each of mine out wide, hooking them both around opposite legs of the table. The muscles in my legs burn at the stretch. The marble table top is cold against my cheek and breasts.