Waking Up With Dr Off-Limits. Amy Andrews
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her ogling him? But she just didn’t seem able to stop. She watched in fascination as the previously dormant muscles in his back and arms tensed and rippled, assisting the move onto his back.
Jess held her breath.
Luckily, his subconscious chose to roll the way it did as his entangled leg dragged the sheet across his hips and legs, concealing his modesty from her gaze. But that still left a whole lot of male flesh on view.
One arm, bent at the elbow, was flung above his head, emphasising a taut bicep. His strong jaw sported a sprinkling of dark blond three-day growth as her gaze traced the fascinating contours of his full mouth.
A thatch of soft-looking underarm hair barely registered as the firmness of his beautifully tanned, smooth chest drew her gaze lower. It tapered down to a set of abs that would have been perfectly at home on a Rodin statue.
A trail of darker brown hair bisected his six pack. Jess’s throat felt as dry as two-minute soup mix.
She didn’t dare look any lower.
Not that she was any stranger to naked men. As a nurse, it was an occupational hazard. And as a country girl, nature, in all its forms, had infused her life.
But he wasn’t one of her beloved patients. Or a prize-winning bull.
He was an entirely different proposition.
And this was voyeurism. Jess mentally shook herself. What the hell was she doing? The man was twelve years older than her and a total sex god. He was completely out of her league.
Not to mention Ruby’s brother.
Oh, and her landlord!
But what the hell was she supposed to do now? He was in her bed.
Her bed. A bed that she would very much like to be in herself, getting some much-needed sleep.
A bed she’d been daydreaming about all the way home as each footstep down the hill from the hospital had brought her closer to home.
A bed she could almost feel beneath her as she’d pushed open the front door and headed straight for the shower, dunking herself quickly under the cool spray to remove all traces of hospital. Why the hell was he in her bed?
He had a perfectly good one of his own. She’d never seen it, never even peeked inside his bedroom, but it was there, opposite the kitchen door, always taunting her.
When he was away, which was often, the door was always shut. When he was home it opened and shut with monotonous regularity as a procession of women came and went.
He really should just install a revolving one and be done with it.
So, why was he camped out in hers?
She should wake him, demand to know what he was doing.
But … how? Call his name? Shake his shoulder?
Touch him?
Her breath caught in her throat as the thought shocked and tantalised in equal measure. Her pulse had doubled just scrutinising the man in her bed—what the hell would happen to her if she should actually touch him?
Touch a naked shoulder?
She recoiled from the very idea, her fingers curling into her palms. It was too much to even contemplate.
She sighed. There was nothing she could do. Ruby and Tilly had both finished night duty this morning and would be snoring their heads off in their beds. And Ellie was on afternoon shift and wouldn’t be up yet.
It wasn’t fair to disturb any of them.
She was going to have to go and sleep on the couch. In the non-air-conditioned lounge room. On a day that was tipped to reach forty degrees. And already felt like double that.
While Adam Carmichael slept in temperature-controlled comfort.
In her bed.
If she didn’t have a massive crush on him and wasn’t such a goody two shoes she’d have tossed him out on his ear. But he looked so peaceful. Not to mention sexy as hell. And at least she’d have actual fodder for her fantasies now instead of just a series of creative imaginings.
The image of him tangled in her sheets was going to stay with her for ever.
But she needed her clothes and they were in her room. Jess sighed. There was only one thing for it …
She dropped her bag quietly just inside the door and checked that her towel was firmly tucked. The last thing she wanted was to have a wardrobe malfunction—one naked person in this room was enough!
Jess tiptoed into the room, unable to drag her eyes from the steady rise and fall of Adam’s chest.
That was her first mistake.
She promptly tripped over one of the numerous embroidered throw cushions that usually sat on her bed and which Adam had obviously tossed on the floor. She clutched at her cleavage where the towel end was firmly tucked as she stumbled perilously close to the edge of the bed before righting herself.
Her heart hammered wildly in her chest and she didn’t move for a full minute in case just disturbing the air currents around the bed might cause him to waken. Finally, convinced he was sleeping soundly, she forced herself to watch her step instead of Adam as she continued towards her goal.
There were no built-in wardrobes in her room, just an old-fashioned art deco one that stood against the wall next to the bedside table. It belonged to her grandmother who’d insisted she bring it with her to the big smoke to remind her of home. It was beautifully crafted from dark wood with curved top edges and a full sized bevelled mirror between the two polished doors. Jess reached it without further incident and held her breath as she turned the key in the lock. The quiet scratch of metal on metal seemed amplified tenfold and when the door opened it creaked like a coffin lid in a horror movie.
Jess froze behind the door, waiting for Adam to stir, but a quick peek confirmed the noises hadn’t disturbed him.
That was her second mistake.
As he slumbered blissfully on, his lips snagged her attention. They were full, parted slightly and looked, oh, so soft. The stubble that framed them looked deliciously scratchy and she wondered how the soft/rough combination would feel against her own mouth? Jess swallowed.
How would it feel to be the one allowed to kiss that mouth?
Adam shifted slightly and she ducked behind the wardrobe door again like a nervous Victorian maiden. But not before she noticed her pyjamas peaking out from the pillow beneath his head.
Great.
Cowering behind the door, her heart fluttered ten to the dozen as she actually considered, for one crazy second, trying to retrieve them.
But that would be a third mistake.
And there were plenty of things she could wear right here in her wardrobe. Her hand shook as she slowly pulled open a drawer and extracted a pair of white cotton knickers and a white cotton, knee-length nightie. Her mother had embroidered tiny yellow daises around the modest neckline.
From habit she sank her face into it. It smelled of sunshine and home and a fierce shaft of nostalgia pierced her right through the heart. For a moment she wished she was back there. Where things were simple.
Where Adam couldn’t possibly be in her bed.
No matter how many times she’d fantasised about waking up with him, in her childhood bedroom, unchanged since she’d been seven years old, and her desires had been as innocent as Black Beauty wallpaper.
There was nothing innocent about her desires now.
She sighed inwardly as she shut the drawer carefully and then reached for her deodorant. Her still trembling fingers fumbled it and it thunked against the shelf. She made a grab for it as it rolled