Izzy bites her lip, green eyes locking with mine. “Make me forget, Bradley.”
My brain takes an embarrassingly long time to process the request. “I just want to be clear about where the comma was in that sentence,” I say slowly. “Was that ‘make me forget Bradley,’ or ‘make me—'”
Her kiss smothers the rest of my words as Iz pulls me down so my mouth meets hers. She pushes against my chest, backing me toward her bedroom as her tongue brushes mine. I resist the urge to scoop her into my arms, recognizing another need in her. She needs to call the shots. She wants to be in charge, at least this time.
Sliding my fingers through her hair, I let her back me down the hall and through her bedroom door. She doesn’t break the kiss as her fingers fumble with the buttons on the front of my shirt. I let her undress me, aching to do the same to her. But something tells me that’s not the void she needs to fill. Not yet, anyway. I lift my arms to let her drag the shirt off my shoulders, then return my hands to the perfect curve of her waist.
“You’re so soft.”
She smiles, green eyes flashing heat. “It’s the sweater. It’s cashmere.”
I shake my head and smile. “It’s you. It’s all you, Iz.”
With a smile, she drags her hands down my bare chest. “I want you,” she says. “Not just your fingers and tongue, but all of you, buried deep inside me.”
That’s about as clear as it gets on the consent scale, but I still hesitate. “You’re sure? We don’t need to rush things if—”
“We do, actually.” The smile she gives me is full of heat, but there’s something else. Sadness, maybe? But it’s gone in a flash, and maybe I imagined it because she pushes me back on the bed and climbs on top of me, fingers tugging at my fly.
“I don’t want to wait, Bradley.” She frees my cock, dragging my jeans and boxers down my legs in one smooth motion. “Please. Make me forget.”
Her lips graze the head of my cock before I can ask what it is I’m wiping from her memory. Then my own mind goes blank because hello, Izzy’s drawing me into her mouth and sucking and teasing and Jesus Christ, I can’t take much more of this.
“Izzy.” Her name snags in my throat as I wriggle her jeans off while her mouth works magic on my dick. “Slow down if you want this to last.”
She sits up and smiles, moving to straddle me again with only a thin strip of satin between her thighs. “I need you inside me first.” Tugging off her sweater, she reaches behind her to unhook her bra and holy Christ—
“You have the most beautiful breasts.” I reach up to cup them in my hands, tracing my thumbs over her tightened areola. “Like the perfect sketch in a medical text.”
She quirks one eyebrow. “That’s—weirdly sexy.” She laughs and drags a palm down my chest. “Or maybe just weird.”
I run my hands down her sides, making her laugh as I graze something ticklish. “Let me try again,” I offer as my palms move to cup her perfect backside. “The curvature of your gluteus maximus is a perfect specimen of superlative musculature.”
“Thanks.” She laughs, then moans as she circles her hips to rub herself against me. I know enough about reproductive health to recognize we’re playing with fire here, so I grab for my jeans. “Hang on,” I breathe. “Condom.”
“Say something else.” She circles her hips again, groaning as her heat seeps through the thin satin at her center. “Talk doctor to me.”
Call me crazy, but I don’t think she wants me to describe gallbladder surgery. “Right here.” I stroke my thumb over her clit through the damp slip of satin. “Did you know you have more than eight thousand nerve endings in the clitoris? That’s more than double what the penis has.”
She shudders and tilts her head in something close to a nod. “Yes,” she breathes. “More.”
I don’t know if she means the words or the friction, so I go with both. “Only about a quarter of the clitoris is outside the body,” I murmur as I stroke hers again. “Three-fourths of it is located inside.”
Her eyes flutter open, and she smiles. “That’s where I want you. Inside me. Now.”
“I think that can be arranged.” I roll my hips, tilting her onto her back as I drag my wallet out of my back pocket. As I fumble to rip open the condom wrapper, Izzy’s clever fingers curl around me, stroking until I’m nearly mindless. “You’re more than making up for any nerve endings I might be lacking,” I choke out.
“I was raised to be a lady.” There’s an edge to the words, and I sense there’s more to them than playful flirtation. “A lady employs good taste at all times.” She licks her lips and grins. “Right now, I can still taste you on the back of my tongue. I want more.”
“That’s hot.” I roll on the prophylactic and reach for her. “I never knew I had a thing for royal-speak.”
“Just like I never knew I had a thing for doctors.”
“Plural?” I move between her thighs, grazing her slick center. “Should I notify my colleagues you’ll be wanting to make the rounds?”
Izzy groans as her eyes flutter shut. “Not if you do your job, Dr. Parker.”
The challenge is a tease, just like what she’s doing with her hips to move her slickness against me. But the competitive nature that drove me into the Army, that spurred me to finish at the top of my med school class, sparks to life at her words. I know it makes me a caveman, but damn if I don’t find myself dying to leave an impression.
I’m not douchey enough to think the phrase “ruin her for other men,” or maybe I am, because the words creep unbidden into my brain.
“Izzy.” I whisper her name as I sink into her, just an inch or two to start. “Look at me, Iz.”
Her lashes flutter open and her green eyes lock with mine. I move into her slowly, never breaking eye contact as I slide in deeper. This connection, this bone-deep sense of being one with Izzy, it’s not like anything I’ve felt before. She’s snug and warm around me, but my brain spins with other sensations.
The tickle of her hair against my wrist. The soft whimper as I draw out almost completely before sliding back in again. The scent of roses and fresh snow that fills my senses as I drive in as deep as I can get.
“Bradley.” She groans my name as her lashes start to flutter, but she doesn’t close them. She’s getting off on this eye contact, just like I am. “You feel so good.”
She draws me in, using her heels to press the backs of my thighs. With a moan, she arches up beneath me as she tilts her hips. I can feel that tight nub of nerves pressing into me, and I tip my pelvis give her the friction she’s seeking.
“Oh,” she gasps, and I know enough to keep moving like that. “Bradley, God—please.”
I feel her squeezing around me, her body quivering like she’s right on the brink of something. I know what it is, so I drive in again, dotting tiny kisses along her earlobe. “Izzy,” I murmur in her ear. “I’ve got you.”
It’s not a phrase I’ve ever used in bed, and I’m not sure what spurs me to say it now. But as I draw back and watch her face, I see the impact they’ve had. A tension I never knew she was holding falls away like a discarded shell. With a gasp, she comes apart beneath me, raking her nails down my back as she cries out.