Jennifer Greene - Ain’t Misbehaving

Her head abruptly jerked back against his shoulder. “There’s no need for that.”

He would have smiled at the sudden anxiety in her eyes, if he hadn’t been frantically worried about her. “You’re not scared of doctors, little one?”

“No. I just…my doctor doesn’t make house calls. In the morning, I can call him-if I still feel ill.”

“Who said anything about your doctor? Mine will be out here in fifteen minutes flat if I call him.” Kay was badly mistaken if she thought he’d trust her welfare to a stranger’s care. Mitch led her into her bedroom and sat down on the bed with her, glancing at the pale violet walls. The room even smelled like her. Pushing her head to his chest, he pulled off one sleeve of her sweater. “Where are your nightgowns, Kay?”

“Look. There’s no need for a doctor.” Kay’s voice was muffled through the angora sweater. “It’s just…shrimp.”

“Pardon?”

“Shrimp.”

He paused, then realized he had the sweater stuck over her head and quickly tugged it off. “You mean my mother’s shrimp?”

“I have…an allergy.”

Kay’s head hung low; he was afraid she was going to lose her dinner. “An allergy? How could you be so silly as to eat shrimp if you knew-”

“I…thought I’d outgrown it. It isn’t a stomach kind of sick-it’s just this…dizziness. And feeling so cold. Mitch, I’m freezing!”

“It’s going to be okay, honey.” He stopped only once to run a hand through his hair, then went into action. The bottom drawer held nightgowns, or negligees, or whatever you called them. None of them looked warm enough, not when her teeth were chattering. When he finally found what looked like a cozy garment, she’d kicked her shoes off and was trying to tug off her nylons.

“I’ll do that, dammit,” he said fiercely. “You just lie down.”

“I’ll be fine in…a while. Really, you can go home, Mitch. I’ve managed before…”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” He pulled off the stockings, then her skirt, then tried to put the nightgown on her.

“I can’t sleep in my-”

“I thought you’d be warmer,” he said flatly.

She shook her head, very weakly, her hair hanging like a curtain in front of her face. “It…binds.”

His fingers fumbled for the front hook, only to discover she’d opted for a back-hooked bra this time. A double back hook. Dammit. Couldn’t the woman decide which obstacle course to set in front of him?

But then it was off and her breasts were free, white and soft, for a moment almost spilling into his hands. A little ball lodged in his throat and wouldn’t let him swallow. He tugged the nightgown over her head.“I have to take off my-”

“All right.” He slipped his hands underneath the striped flannel nightgown to pull down her satin half-slip. Rather than hear another argument, he slipped off the black satin panties as well. “Now get under the covers!”

Goodness. That sounded distinctly like a roar delivered between clenched teeth.

Kay, you are a wicked, immoral woman, her conscience informed her. And you’d certainly better make this good, because he will never forgive you if he discovers you’re putting on an act.

“Mitch, you’re not leaving?”

“Of course I’m not leaving.” Tucking the comforter under her chin, he frowned furiously at her, as if she’d suggested something preposterous. “I still think I should call the doctor-how long do these attacks usually last?”

“Not very long,” she said swiftly. “The worst is right now, really. Could you just…hold me?” When Mitch hesitated, she said softly, “I know it’s silly. It’s just that I’m never sick. When I get dizzy like that, it’s kind of…frightening.”

Mitch moved forward instantly. “I know exactly what it feels like,” he said gently, “to be frightened when you’re ill. I’ll be here, I promise you.”

Guilt lanced through her at the emotional tremor in his voice. So, though, did other emotions as she watched him sit down at the foot of the bed and push off his shoes. His Adam’s apple was throbbing, particularly when his eyes swiveled around and assessed the infinitely comfortable expanse of bed. Very gingerly, he stretched out next to her, leaning up on one elbow to study her with narrowed eyes. “You don’t look flushed anymore,” he said gravely.

“The fever comes and goes. Mitch…” She raised her palm innocently to his chest. “You’re not going to be comfortable like that,” she whispered. “You’ll broil with the sweater on, and if you’re going to stay-not that you have to, just because I feel a little ill-”

“You practically collapsed at the door,” he said flatly, and sat up to tug off his sweater. “And if I ever catch you eating shrimp again-”

“Mitch, I’m so cold…”

Lying down and sliding an arm around her, he hugged her to his chest and at the same time ripped the comforter away from her. Leaving it tucked around her like that was no good. Wrapping her in it would be better. Fiercely protective instincts swamped him, a purely male conviction that no one had a right to take care of her but him. The lower half of his body was clamoring about other male instincts, but he was trying to ignore that. “If you ever-” he repeated.

With alarm, she realized he was planning to swaddle her like a mummy. She wiggled out of the blanket and closer to him, her arm snaking around his ribs. “This is better, much better,” she murmured. “I don’t feel nearly as dizzy. But your belt is sticking me.”

There was something in her voice… His hand abruptly stilled.

“Is it?”

“Very sharp,” Kay affirmed.

Her heart was beating erratically under his palm. Her flesh was warm, terribly warm; he could feel that heat even through her nightgown. And she was trembling-actually, a violent tremble shuddered through her body when his fingers, totally by accident, made contact with the soft swell of her breasts. And suddenly her heartbeat kicked in like a motorboat.

A very, very healthy motorboat. The thing was, Mitch was an expert in arrhythmia and galloping heartbeats. Kay’s pulse lacked even an itty-bitty symptom of stress. Further, the allegedly ill lady beside him was playing with his belt, and when he gently tried to nudge up her chin she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

His voice came out as soft as butter. “You’ve had this allergy a long time, have you?”

“Years.”

“And you still feel cold?”

“Freezing.”

Without another word, he untangled himself from her and stood up. Stalking around to the other side of the bed, he turned off the light. In the darkness, Kay could hear him removing his clothing, first the sound of a zipper, then fabric whooshing to the floor, and then silence.

A long silence. It seemed an eternity later that she felt the comforter being lifted, and Mitch, warm and certainly huge, slide in beside her. His long leg made contact with hers…pinning hers, actually, even as his arm seductively slid beneath her shoulders and folded her close. “Do you know something?” he murmured.

“Hmm?” He was bare and warm and pure male, the scent of him instantly surrounding her. Primitive drum rolls announced themselves in her bloodstream. Every pore was aware of him. For some absolutely crazy reason, she couldn’t stop the vulnerable quiver that chased up her spine.

His palm slid down her back, pushed up her nightgown and splayed on her bare bottom with an intimacy that she didn’t object to-it was just that Mitch had never been quite so aggressive before. “Kay?” he murmured softly. “You’re all through playing, lady. And I have this strange sudden impulse to take this big hand of mine…”

Those fingers of his drummed on her sensitive skin.

“Listen,” she said hastily.

“If I were you, I would be extremely quiet right now.” He found her lips in the darkness with no trouble at all.

She’d expected the kiss to be angry. It wasn’t. A gentle series of swift, soft kisses explored the shape of her mouth, and then faster than she could draw breath his lips crushed hers. Her lashes fluttered closed, and her fingertips climbed up to his shoulders. Over and over his mouth seared hers, clouding her ability to think.

She tensed, involuntarily, as if her body were suddenly aware it had unleashed a sleeping giant. Mitch wasn’t a man to be led on a string, in bed or out of it, and she suddenly felt as vulnerable as a butterfly. Yes, she’d wanted him to make love to her, but it was very rapidly occurring to her that making love to Mitch was not going to be like any other experience she’d ever had.

In one swift movement, he pulled off her nightgown. On the next stroke down, his hand traced the line from her thigh to her hip with a boldness that inflamed every inch of her flesh. “You thought you needed to trick me into wanting you?” he murmured. “I’ve wanted you from the instant I first laid eyes on you. You really didn’t know that?”

“Mitch-”

“I’ve dreamed of making love to you so many times, Kay. You’re so beautiful…your skin…the feel of you…”

Even in the darkness, she could see the glowing sheen of a fierce desire in his eyes. She watched his eyes even as she felt his hand flowing over her skin, kneading it, intimately curving the shape of her breast in his palm.

“I never held back because I didn’t want you,” he said roughly. “But be very sure this is what you want, Kay, because-”

“I love you, Mitch,” she said simply.

She buried her face in his shoulder, loving the crush of his hair-roughened chest and strong, tense thighs against her. His arousal pressed against her legs, and she felt in some mystical and perfectly irrational way that it belonged to her. His hands roamed over her body, arousing delicious feminine yearnings. She felt small, soft, crushable. The tiniest lick of fear was part of that, a primal emotion, an excitement in anticipation of being possessed by one stronger, larger, infinitely more powerful.