She and Dante stepped back outside the door, deciding to shed their jeans to keep from dropping mud through the house.
They ran upstairs to shower, Dante grumbling when Sarah sent him to his own bathroom. “No stress today,” she told him sternly as she walked toward the guest bathroom. “That includes any type of exertion,” she called back over her shoulder, knowing he’d understand that “exertion” equaled sex.
He didn’t follow, but she felt his eyes on her as she went to the guest room and closed the door.
The window of Dante’s bedroom was open, but the soothing sounds of the ocean weren’t helping him tonight. Sleep was eluding him, and he knew exactly why.
I can’t sleep without her.
Dante rolled over onto his back with an annoyed grunt. Knowing Sarah was sleeping in the guest room right down the hall was making him nearly insane.
There’s nothing worse than being obsessed with a female who’s a damn doctor!
She’d insisted, lecturing him about the need for sleep and recovery time because of his head injury.
I have a head as hard as a damn bowling ball. I don’t need to sleep alone and I don’t want to sleep alone.
Granted, he probably could have seduced her, made her want to come to his bed, but he hadn’t done it. She’d threatened to leave his ass and go back home if he didn’t behave.
Like hell she will.
However, just the thought of not having her close to him was enough to make him back off. After dinner, they’d spent a lazy evening together, Sarah eventually wandering to the piano to play. Dante wasn’t that familiar with classical music, but he didn’t need to be. He picked up on her emotions immediately: everything she played was broody and dark. Something was bothering her and he didn’t know how to fix it. She’d nearly killed him with her open sobs of fear and pain last night in the hospital, and he’d tried to absorb every bit of it as she wept, hoping he’d never see her that upset again. But it was something different this time. She didn’t appear frightened, but Dante couldn’t seem to put a finger on what exactly was causing her to appear so unusually fragile. He didn’t like it.
She seemed . . . almost sad, melancholy. He shouldn’t have left her alone, but he’d been afraid that she would bolt, and he couldn’t really object to her leaving anymore because her life wasn’t in danger.
She’s free to do whatever she wants.
While that fact should make him happy, it actually scared the shit out of him. Yeah. Okay. He was glad that she was out of danger and wasn’t stuck indoors anymore because it made her unhappy. But the thought of her actually leaving, going back to a life without him, made him completely crazy.
So, here he was, staring up at the ceiling while a woman he wanted more than anything else in the world was sleeping in the guest room down the hall. Dante figured having her close was better than having her gone completely.
It’s bullshit.
He’d never been the type of guy to settle for anything, and it was irritating the shit out of him that he was doing it now. Truth was . . . the thought of losing her shook him to the core.
So I’m going to lie here all night and stare at the damn ceiling?
What he really should have done was fuse her to him so completely that she’d never be able to shake him off. When had he ever let fear stop him?
When have I ever had this much to lose?
He hadn’t. Not ever. Honestly, he was a hell of a lot more comfortable chasing murderers than dealing with the possibility that Sarah might leave him and never come back.
Not happening!
Dante rolled out of bed with a combination of apprehension and determination. His stubbornness and persistence weren’t going to allow him to just lie here anymore. If necessary, he’d be the biggest pain in the ass Sarah Baxter had ever dealt with before. She wouldn’t be able to ignore him.
Dante grinned wickedly as he opened the door and headed down the hall to Sarah’s room, where he grasped the handle and let himself into the bedroom. After closing her door quietly, he leaned back against it. Her bedroom windows were open, illuminating the figure on the bed with a dim glow. What he saw made him freeze instantly in place, unable to tear his eyes from the sight in the middle of the mattress.
Sarah was awake, her head thrown back, eyes closed, and her hand between her thighs. Dressed in a short baby doll nightgown, she looked like a fiery seductress in red and black, the minuscule panties that matched the ensemble on the floor beside the bed.
He watched, fists clenched, as she rubbed her clit harder and harder, whimpering his name quietly. Her head tossed on the pillow, sending curling waves of hair over her face.
Jesus Christ!
He held his breath as he watched her reach for her climax, desperate to get there.
She’s fantasizing about me, thinking about me making her come.
Dante was torn between seeing if she found fulfillment and helping her. Part of him wanted to be an observer, to watch the carnal, erotic sight right in front of him until she shattered. But his cock was a demanding little bastard, and he wanted her right now, needed to see her break into little pieces that scattered around him as he buried himself to his balls and they lost themselves to each other.
He let out the breath he’d been holding, making his final decision as she stopped touching herself with a muted cry of frustration and pulled a pillow over her head, unsatisfied.
She’s still learning her own body, exploring herself.
And Dante would be damned if he’d let her feel like she had failed.
He crawled onto the bed and uncovered her face. “Try harder,” he demanded, grabbing the hem of the sexy nightgown and yanking it up over her head. It landed on the floor before she could ever say a word. “Touch your nipples.” He threaded his fingers through hers on the hand next to her pussy and guided their conjoined hands between her thighs.