Dr. Destiny. KRISTI GOLD
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herself landing in love? Or was it already too late?
Taking Cassie by surprise, Brendan moved her aside and rose from the sofa. He held out his hand to her. ‘‘Come with me.’’
‘‘Where are we going?’’
‘‘To your bedroom.’’
Shock momentarily stole her voice. ‘‘Brendan, I’m not sure that’s—’’
‘‘Just for a while, Cassie. I need to hold you. I’m beat.’’
Cassie stood, questions racing around in her head, yet she took his hand and led him in silence to the darkened bedroom. Once there, he turned her into his arms and kissed her again, this time more gently. But she felt his despair as keenly as if it were her own.
Backing to the bed, he pulled her down to join him. They stretched out and faced each other, bodies and emotions intertwined, surrounded by comfortable darkness and welcome silence. She soon became lost in more of Brendan’s intoxicating kisses.
Deep down Cassie knew she should stop this before it went any further. Before she made the same mistake again, giving all of herself to Brendan knowing it could ruin the friendship, knowing he probably couldn’t give her more. Knowing that she would become even more emotionally drawn in to his world, probably to her own detriment.
Thankfully, he seemed content to only hold her close, but he continued to kiss her. Then he set his hands in motion over her back, trailed touches over the dip of her spine, caressed her bottom for a time, curled his fingertips between her thighs. His touch grew more insistent, carried her away from reality, from past lapses in judgment that seemed intent on repeating themselves. But this was Brendan touching her, Brendan holding her, something she had only imagined in her most secret fantasies.
From the sound of Brendan’s rapid breathing, his insistent kisses, she sensed he was nearing the edge, barely clinging to a fragile thread of restraint. So was she, and then suddenly the thread broke. They undressed with abandon, his scrubs and briefs, her sweatshirt, pants and underwear, until nothing came between them except warm flesh contacting warm flesh.
With a rough groan, Brendan rose above her, nudged her legs apart with a hair-roughened thigh and buried himself inside her. At first her body reacted with a spark of discomfort from the sudden sensual invasion. But as he held her close and whispered her name, she was struck with a sense of pleasure, of wonder, like nothing she had ever known before.
His thrusts grew almost desperate, all consuming. ‘‘I need you, Cassie,’’ he said, his words shot through with an agony that Cassie felt in the deepest reaches of her soul.
‘‘I’m here, Brendan,’’ she told him over and over, trying desperately to absorb some of his pain.
He trailed kisses across her neck and settled his lips on her breast. Cassie surrendered to the blissful moment, immersed herself in the rhythm, welcomed the intimacy and Brendan’s strength. She held fast to him, not daring to examine the feelings bubbling up inside her—a deep-seated longing—and love. A love that she had hidden from him, from herself for several months, until now.
Cassie was so close to the edge, wanting the sensations to go on forever, but they ended much too soon. With one last thrust and a moan, Brendan collapsed against her.
Neither of them moved as several seconds counted down in time with the ticking bedside clock, in sync with Cassie’s galloping pulse. Her heart raced frantically when she suddenly realized what they had done.
She hadn’t looked beyond the moment, beyond providing comfort. Nor had she considered the consequences. What should she do now? What would Brendan do?
Cassie knew the moment awareness hit Brendan. She sensed it in the tightening of his frame, the long sigh from his lips that now rested against her neck, and the single word, ‘‘Damn,’’ that came out in a harsh whisper.
Brendan slipped from her body, sat up and streaked both hands through his hair. ‘‘What in the hell have I done?’’
Cassie draped her legs over the edge of the bed, scooted beside him and laid a palm on his shoulder. ‘‘It wasn’t only you, Brendan.’’
He shrugged off her hand. ‘‘But I know better.’’
She flipped on the bedside lamp and sighed. ‘‘Like I don’t? We’re both responsible for what happened.’’
He focused on the watercolor painting hanging on the wall across the room, his hands fisted on his bare thighs. ‘‘Are you on the Pill?’’
‘‘I was. Low dose to regulate my periods. But I haven’t been taking them for three months.’’
‘‘That’s what I was afraid of.’’ He sounded afraid.
‘‘Pregnancy’s not our only concern.’’
He still wouldn’t look at her. ‘‘You don’t have to worry about that. I’m safe.’’
‘‘So am I.’’ She didn’t feel at all safe, not from an emotional standpoint. The intangible wall Brendan had raised concerned her almost as much as the threat of pregnancy. They should be holding each other in the aftermath, not debating the possible outcome. Maybe at some other time, some other place, that might actually happen. But not now.
She had intended to give him comfort, not cause him more pain. But that’s exactly what she had done. ‘‘Look, Brendan, odds are nothing will come of this.’’
He yanked on his scrubs then pushed off the bed to pace. ‘‘What if we defy the odds and you end up pregnant?’’
‘‘I’ll deal with it.’’
Halting before her, he said, ‘‘We’ll deal with it. You have to swear to me that you’ll tell me if you are.’’
‘‘Of course I’ll tell you. But that’s something we shouldn’t worry about now. No need to borrow trouble.’’
‘‘I am worried. Damned worried.’’
So was she, about many things, the least of which was the possible detriment to their relationship. How could a few moments of bliss that had felt so right, at least to Cassie, turn out to be so wrong? ‘‘Let’s take it one day at a time, okay?’’
His gaze traveled slowly over her flushed body, his eyes full of concern. ‘‘Did I hurt you? I was pretty rough.’’
Suddenly self-conscious over his steady perusal, Cassie grabbed the comforter to cover herself. ‘‘Of course you didn’t hurt me.’’
‘‘But I didn’t do that much for you, either.’’
‘‘I’m fine, Brendan. Really.’’
He took a seat next to her and clasped her hand between his large palms. ‘‘I’m an idiot, Cassie. I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me now.’’
She rested her head on his shoulder. ‘‘I could never hate you, no matter what.’’
‘‘But you didn’t even—’’
‘‘It doesn’t matter.’’
‘‘Dammit, it does matter. You deserve better.’’
Normally she would agree. She preferred slow seduction, a little romance, long kisses, lots of foreplay, something she’d never really had before. But this hadn’t been a normal circumstance. Brendan didn’t realize that making love with him had meant a great deal to her, a union that had little to do with the physical and all to do with the emotional. He would never understand that. Most men wouldn’t.
‘‘I’m not going to break in two over this, Brendan.’’
‘‘No big deal, right?’’ he asked with a good deal of sarcasm.
She certainly couldn’t admit to that because it wasn’t at all true. ‘‘More