Midnight Heat (Black Phoenix Book 2) (6 page)

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you don’t ever stay in one place long.”

Not often, no. But he was looking to change. “I’ll be here at least another year.” Her eyes met his and he wished he could read her, but couldn’t.

“Here? In California?”

“Yes.”

“Then what, back to London?”

Nope, still no clue what she was thinking. He’d give just about anything to know what was going on in her head right now. “Off on a world tour.”

“With Black Phoenix?”

“We’re cutting a new album now. Noah had a basement recording studio put in after he bought his house.”

She was touching everything; flipping the visors, pushing the buttons that controlled the glass roof, and caressing the leather seats. Resting his forearms on the roof, he leaned in the open door, into her space. “Place your foot on the brake and push the button.”

“Which button?”

He leaned in a little further, stretched his left arm over the top of the steering column until the tips of his fingers touched the button in question. “Is your foot on the brake?” Silence. He turned his head and discovered her eyes tightly closed. “Becca?”

“Yeah, yes, my foot’s on the brake.” Her voice was tight and a bit panicked.

Dom pushed the button. The vehicle started.

Rebecca’s eyes snapped open. “Very nice,” she murmured, her lips so dangerously close to his their breath combined.

Mouth dry, he swallowed, wishing he had the right to kiss her. Wishing he had the right to do a lot more than that. He remembered all too well the feel of her lips against his, sliding lower, down his chest, his abdomen…

Fuck.

“Dominic?”

He allowed himself a moment to absorb the memory, then pushed it brutally aside. “Now the one above you again.”

She shot him a look that was a little bit bafflement, a little bit something he couldn’t name. Then she pressed the button. The front glass roof panel moved and so did he. As the glass slid open, Dom eased back, replacing his forearms on the roof, he peered down at her. “Now that would get me in trouble,” she said, squinting at the sky above her.

“Why?”

“I love the sun. I’d want it open all the time, but my pale skin couldn’t handle it. I don’t need any more freckles.”

“I like your freckles.” He used to trace them with his fingers, his tongue. Once he’d even tried to count them all, quickly becoming distracted by the woman they decorated.

She wrinkled her freckled nose and he smiled. Those were nice, but the ones dusting her breasts were his favorite.

“Buckle up.” Stepping back, he closed the driver’s door then circled around to his door before she could change her mind. Turned out, he needn’t have worried. She didn’t even try to tell him what a mistake it was, just put the vehicle in gear and headed for the lot exit.

The minute they pulled into traffic and Rebecca closed the glass roof, Dominic realized the severity of his error. Sure, he was a lucky bastard to be spending time with her in any capacity, but the car had been a tactical error. Now he was trapped, with no escape from the combined scent of new leather and soft female that flooded his senses. No way to ignore the way the sunlight slanted over her hair, hair he used to love to have draped across his body.

He looked at her for a long beat, her heart-shaped face, high cheekbones and narrow chin. Her full lips, slicked with something that made them appear soft and shiny. His pulse picked up speed. To counteract it, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the headrest.

“You’re very quiet all of a sudden,” she said softly, her voice shattering any hope for a few minutes to pull himself together. “Which is rare for you.”

He didn’t reply. He was too busy running mathematical equations through his head.

Too bad he’d never been any damn good at math.

“As rare as the fact that there’s no music playing. You know, from the upgraded audio system you made a point to mention?”

He took a deep breath, tipped his head and looked over at her. “You’re not going to yell at me again, are you?”

“I don’t yell.”

“Right.”

Her lips thinned to a tight line. “If I yelled at you it was because I was worried.”

Suddenly, he felt a whole lot better. If she was worried about him it meant she still cared. His euphoria was short-lived.

“I worry about all of my patients. Especially the ones who are too stubborn to follow my instructions.”

“I’m fine, Rebecca.”

“Are you? How long can you keep your eyes open and tolerate the light?” She arched an eyebrow, daring him to admit the truth.

“With or without the shades?”

“Damn it, Dom.” She glanced at him, her eyes narrowed. “What about the music?”

He let out a breath. “I can’t stand to listen to it yet.” This was disconcerting enough, without the fact that it was the bass that bothered him the most. For the exact reason he normally loved it. “My heartbeat syncs with the beat, then pounds through my skull. Instead of making me feel more alive, it makes me want to—”

“Cry?”

He’d been about to say vomit, because when his head really began to pound, that was usually the end result.

“So, no studio time, either?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, then turned her head and met his gaze, allowing him to see she meant it.

He felt a little thunderstruck. A feeling he wasn’t sure what to do with at that moment. “It’s not your fault.”

“No, but it must be difficult for you.”

It was hell. It had only been three short days and already Dom couldn’t stand it. Music was everything to him, one of the few things he excelled at. He couldn’t imagine a life without music. How the hell had Noah done it, given music up for all those years? He would surely have gone mad.

“So, how are you spending your free time?”

Thinking about you.
Something, since seeing her again, he found impossible not to do.

Rebecca pulled into the Dairy Mart and parked in front of a picnic table at the far end of the lot, angling the car so the bright afternoon sun was at their back. “How do your ribs feel?” She pushed the sleeve of his tee up and ran a finger over his sutures. “Your laceration is healing nicely.”

“My ribs are a bit troubling.”

“You’re keeping them wrapped?”

The gentle sweep of her thumb back and forth across his bicep was driving him to distraction. He’d bet she didn’t even realize she was doing it.

“Dominic?”

Deciding escape was his best course of action, he pushed the door open and stepped out. The Dairy Mart had its fair share of mature palm trees providing enough pockets of shade so that his trek for ice cream was relatively painless.

The walk back to the picnic table was slightly more challenging as he was walking into the sun. The glare was uncomfortable enough that he was at the picnic table before he noted Rebecca sat atop it, leaned back on her elbows, copper hair glinting. Head tipped to the sky, eyes closed, her breasts offered up like a sacrifice to the gods…

Dominic stood frozen, unable to avert his gaze. It was a moment before he found his voice. “Becca?”

She raised a hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes. A warm smile lit her face, stealing his breath. “Two scoops?” She straightened and took the cone from him as he sat next to her. A sweep of her tongue around the base of the bottom scoop was immediately followed by a soft moan of approval. Heat flushed through him. “There goes my diet.”

“You’re dieting? What the hell for?”

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Who knew watching her eat would be so titillating? He wanted to touch her so damn bad. Wanted to lay her down on the picnic table, strip her clothes off and fill his hands with her amazing breasts. Kiss her senseless, then take his mouth on a journey of rediscovery, exploring every dip and curve of her body before rolling her atop him and letting her return the favor.

As if she would ever let him do that again.

Dom frowned and looked away. The wind picked up, and her familiar Chanel scent washed over him. Lust coiled and tightened in his gut. His dick sparked to life. He closed his eyes against the ache in his groin, but the move only amplified the pain behind his eyes. Cursing, he pushed his fingers beneath his sunglasses and pressed them against his closed lids.

“Dominic?” Her voice was filled with worry and concern. “How bad is it?”

“You can’t imagine,” he replied without thinking and before he realized she was referring to the head on his shoulders and not the one below his belt.

Even with his eyes closed, he knew when she moved, stood and came closer. She brushed her fingers over his temple, smoothed his hair back.

He groaned aloud.

“It will get better,” she said softly.

“No, it won’t.”

“It only feels like that now.” She stepped between his knees and removed his sunglasses.

He kept his eyes closed or she would see what track his thoughts ran along. “Rebecca.”

“Let me look at you.” She cupped his face in her hands – both hands, meaning she’d tossed the cone. “Open your eyes, Dominic.”

Fuck
. Taking a deep breath, he did as she asked.

She sucked in a breath as she stared into his eyes. Yeah, he could just imagine what she saw there. But she didn’t move, she didn’t do the smart thing and run. Not even when he settled his hands on her hips and said, “I forgot that you eat ice cream with the same enthusiasm as you fuck.”

Her mouth dropped open. One copper eyebrow rose. “I forgot how blunt you can be.”

He’d never been very good at editing anything before it came out of his mouth. She continued to stare at him, then something in her gaze changed. His fingers flexed, dug into her flesh, the denial of her was too hard to fight any longer. “Rebecca.”

His blood throbbed through his veins. He slid his hands up the sides of her body, stopping below her breasts. Her nipples hardened and peaked through her thin sweater, and he shuddered. Her pupils dilated, her lashes drooped heavily as she drew in a deep breath. Shifting his hand, he rubbed his thumb back and forth along the bottom of her breast. Her breathing hitched audibly, so he did it again. He slid his hand higher, until the hard pebble pressed against the center of his palm.

She closed her fingers around his wrist, and whispered, “No.” But her gaze was locked on his mouth. As her tongue shot out and licked her lips, a sound very close to a growl rumbled in his throat. He eased her closer. “No,” she repeated, just as softly as the first time.

A tremor ran through him. He flexed his hands as he fought the need to taste her, to pull her between his thighs and have her open for him. With a deep breath, he released her.

She took a step in retreat, but remained too close for his comfort.

He drew another deep breath, fought the urge to reach down and adjust his straining erection. “You’re going to want to move a little farther away than that.” He figured his intent was written all over his face. She swallowed and stepped back again.

“Farther.”

“Dom…” Her words trailed off as he gave in, reached down, and adjusted himself.

She stared at the blatantly obvious bulge behind his zipper. “Maybe you should take me home now.”

Dominic pushed his hands through his hair, welcoming the jab of pain as the move pulled at his injury. He placed his elbows on his knees, tipped his face toward the ground and closed his eyes. “Give me a minute. I’m not ready to be locked in a car with you yet.”

Chapter Five

Sirens sliced through the early evening air, echoing off the side of the hospital and nearly deafening Rebecca as she stepped out into the ambulance bay. Normally, she waited for patients to be brought in by the EMS crew, but she was restless and had been all shift. Haunted by a desire to do more, even as she struggled against a nagging sensation emergency medicine was not where she belonged.

Coming to that realization while facing a pediatric trauma was not a good omen, yet here she was, in step with the
beep-beep-beep
as the rig backed up. With a deep breath to center herself, she pulled open the rear door as soon as it stopped. “What have we got?”

“Three-year-old male run over in his driveway. Father reports the child was in the back seat unrestrained when he opened the door and fell out while the vehicle was reversing.”

As the medic continued feeding her pertinent information, Rebecca focused on her patient. Despite manually being fed oxygen through an endotracheal tube, his skin was pale and clammy, which made the widespread petechial hemorrhage over his upper chest impossible to miss. His abdomen was distended and marked by patterned bruising. Her stomach twisted painfully as she identified the pattern as that of a tire.

“Patient was unresponsive and in mild respiratory distress at the scene, then stopped breathing five minutes out. Heart rate has held steady at 150, BP is—”

“Blood pressure is dropping,” the second medic interrupted. “We’re losing him.”

No way. Not on my watch.

They burst through the doors at a jog, jockeying around a startled young woman standing frozen in the center of the hallway. A few more steps and they arrived in the trauma bay, where they moved the child onto the ER’s gurney and quickly attached him to the heart monitor and crash cart.

“Get me c-spine, chest, abdomen, a trauma panel, and blood gas,” Rebecca ordered as she began her head to toe examination, gliding her hands over the child’s body. “Where is the father now? The mother?”

Karmen stepped in and wrapped a trauma I.D. band around the tiny wrist.

“Father hitched a ride with the uniforms on the scene. No mention of the mother,” one of the medics replied.

Rebecca’s vision tunneled on the patient as she performed a primary survey – ABCDE: airway, breathing, circulation, disability and exposure. Her main concern was internal bleeding. And although the medic continued to manually supply oxygen via the ambu bag, she wasn’t happy with the rise and fall of the boy’s chest. A quick check with her stethoscope showed absent breath sounds on the left side.