Page 43 of For Her Own Good

Yes, this is much more like how I’d pictured it. Lowry’s lips against mine, not at all shy or still now but slanting over my mouth with a pressure that makes me want to give in, yield to him. Which I do with a sound I’d be ashamed of except that I’m too busy being kissed.

It’s not just his mouth, either. One of his big hands slides up and his fingers spear into my hair until he makes a fist around the strands, holding me fast in a way that makes my knees weak. Lucky for me, his other arm has come around my waist and he nearly hauls me against him. Draws me in until we’re pressed together from chest to thighs.

This is more like it, oh yes, far more like it. His tongue coaxing my lips to part and then licking inside as though he wants to taste every inch of me. As though he’s been thirsting for years and I’m the only source of water that could possibly satisfy.

There’s a slam and I open my eyes for a blink to see Lowry’s kicked the door closed. That’s good because some of my neighbors have children, and I don’t think this is going to stay G-rated for very long. Hell, with the way Lowry’s hand is coming down to take a firm hold of my ass cheek, I think we’re into maybe PG-13 territory already? And the way he squeezes, kneads, pulls me closer even though we’re already touching—it’s heady. As is the feeling of…

Oh yes. His erection is hard against my stomach and I want to be closer, feel it at the apex of my thighs, so I wrap a leg around him. Which doesn’t quite work because he’s too goddamn tall. He withdraws from my mouth and I chase after him, but he’s not going far. Just letting out a soft, strained laugh before bending his knees slightly and then hefting me up. I wrap my legs around him and hook my ankles at the small of his back to take some of my weight off his arms and, oh god.

“Is that what you were looking for?” he asks, rocking my hips against his length, and all I can do is whimper. And kiss him again. Hard. Greedily, like I’ll never get enough because I don’t think I ever will.

It’s a funny thing, to have one of your dreams come true. There are things I want that I’ll never be able to have, but the universe has seen fit to give me a chance with this man and you’d better believe I’m going to hold onto him with everything I have. And a bit unbelievingly, because I’d thought even if he did in fact want me, he’d never dare to have me because of what it would say about him as a doctor. As a person people put their deepest trust in. It’s an overwhelming feeling to think he wants me so badly that his desire would overcome his sense of honor, his commitment to being the consummate professional, his precious ethics. It’s enough to make my head spin. Or perhaps I’m not getting enough oxygen because of how fervently I’m kissing him.

It’s been a while, and I’d like to believe that’s why I start grinding against him shamelessly. I suspect, though, that this would’ve been my reaction to Lowry-in-the-flesh whenever I would’ve gotten this chance.

It’s perhaps a strange thought to have, since I do in fact regularly have electricity shot through my skull, though I’ve never been awake for that. No, I’m always very carefully anesthetized so my body doesn’t actually bear the physical effects of the seizures they induce. But that’s the only way I can explain how this feels—like there’s electricity coursing through my entire body and I’m buzzing with it. Giddy, but not drunk—everything is razor sharp and in hyperfocus. The way Lowry tastes as his tongue plunders my mouth, the way he smells at this distance, and Jesus, yes, the way he feels between my thighs.

He carries me over to my bed and lowers me onto it, careful not to fall with all his weight on me as he follows. I laugh, because oh my. This is impossible. It is impossible that Lowry Campbell is hovering over me, looking down at me like I am some kind of miracle and he can’t believe this is happening. Impossible.

“What’s so funny?”

He’s looking down at me with a gentle smile, twirling a lock of my hair around his finger.

“Nothing’s funny, it’s… I’m…”

“It’s a lot, yes?”

I nod. “Yeah. I’m kind of overwhelmed. I never thought this would happen and now that it is, I don’t even know what to do with myself? Because when I try to figure it out, all I can think is that I want everything.”

He releases the curl he’d wound around his finger and threads his hand into my hair, kissing me at the corner of my eye. It’s so swoony I might die.

“I know how you feel. It’s the same way for me, when I look at you. I don’t even know where to start.”

Indeed, his gaze is roving all over me and I can feel it almost as keenly as where he’s actually touching me. Though if I had to choose, I’d pick his real touch every time.

“And I feel as though I might have gone about this a bit wrong already. I got carried away and I didn’t think to ask. Is this okay? Me, like this, on you? Or is it too much? I can—”

“Don’t you dare.”

To make my point, I fist my hands in his hair and pull him down to kiss again, possibly squirming and pressing a bit against him, because how can I not? This is marvelous, he’s marvelous. And a damn good kisser, which surprises me not at all.

“Mmm, Star…”

It’s hard to find the space to answer him, but I do, between kisses.

“Yeah?”

“I am enjoying this. So much, but I…”

“Yeah?”

Apparently my vocabulary has shrunk to one word but who can blame me?

He leans up, seeming a bit short of breath, and samesies. I can barely breathe and not because he’s lying on top of me. I let go of his hair reluctantly and knit my hands behind his neck instead. I’m unwilling to let him go entirely.

“It’s very important to me to be careful with you. Not because I think you’re fragile. I know better than almost anyone that you’re no such thing. But it’s also…” He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I feel very protective of you, and I’d never want to hurt you if it can be avoided. I’m saying this, and yet I’ve already manhandled you and hauled you to your bed like some kind of brute.”

“I, um, like it. The manhandling that is. And the hauling.”

---