I grip the table and my legs betray me, parting wider for him like a silent invitation I can't take back.
His jaw locks, pupils blown, and he sinks two fingers deep into me in one, decisive thrust and curls them against my front wall.
A broken gasp tears from my throat.He's finally in me again...
His other hand locks my jaw, keeping my eyes on his as he starts working his fingers into me with a sharp rhythm, nothing tentative about it now.
Pressure coils low in my belly as he thrusts deep, shaking my legs with the shock of it.
"You're clamping on me like you're trying to trap me, baby," he says.
I am... I want to trap you forever... I want more of you...
As if he knows what I’m thinking, he yanks his fingers free and pulls them through his mouth. His hands clamp on my assand he snaps me to the edge of the table.
My hands move on their own, shoving his scrubs down so hard I scrape his skin in the rush.
"Jesus..." he hisses when my nails catch him but steps closer anyway like he needs the sting.
He's barely out before he drives into me—desperately, fiercely, the clawing need to reclaim what we've lost making the table shake with us, our mouths moving in a tangle, tongue and teeth and barely a breath, and god I missed him, I should stop this, but I missed him and I don't want to and I won't.
I bite his lip—not hard enough to bleed, but enough to tell him I’m still angry, enough to make his breath break against my mouth.
He growls into the kiss, the sound almost grateful and kisses me harder, like an apology disguised as hunger.
Then he tosses my hands over his neck to hold onto his cock, and his grip on my ass hooks in, hauling me up off the table.
My legs fling over his arms as he straightens with me, the new sharp angle hitting that spot that rips a loud cry from my throat. A low, ragged sound tears out of his chest in response.
I clutch his neck as he holds me suspended, his massive arms jerking me down onto him with a force that knocks the air out of me. I'm seconds away from breaking open on him when—
A sharp knock slices through the air.
We seize in place for a beat, every muscle locking at once. Then his head whips toward the door, and he looks at it like he’s only now realizing where we are—that the door isn't locked andwe're both beyond exposed. He doesn't respond.
I'm still in the air, tightening around him as he throbs, desperate for the next thrust he's holding back, but I bite my heat back and look toward the window in panic.
Did someone see us? No one is looking at us. But what if that one person who did see us is now behind the door?
The knock comes again, louder this time, followed by a muffled female voice, "Doctor Bellini? I saw the lights are still on. Are you there?"
My eyes shoot wide just as Ben curses low beneath his breath.
Instead of answering, his entire body goes rigid, his muscles pulled taut as I feel him pulse, each twitch warning that he's too close.
Suddenly, the danger and the wanting coil in me so tight I can't tell them apart. A part of me wants me to remove his hands so I can slide on him, for him to finish now, like this, while the world waits on the other side.
Look at you, Emma... Always so reckless... crazy...
"You should put me down," I whisper, barely audible.
"No. I'm hanging on by a fucking thread," he rasps, his jaw flexing. He looks down where we're still fused and takes a sharp breath, instantly pulsing inside me. “You move right now and I’ll come—and it won’t be silent.”
The handle shifts. I gasp under my breath, my pulse spiking.She can't see us like this.
His voice comes out low and commanding, cutting straight through the door: "I'm changing, Lauren. Give me fiveminutes."
The handle stills.
