Heart Murmurs Read Online Free
that day in front of room 206. He wasn’t the Big Bad Wolf. She was going to eat him alive.
“Anushka,” he gasped, nudging aside the strap of her tank top and baring the soft, honeyed skin of her breasts. “Anushka, tell me you want this. Tell me how much you want this.”
She didn’t. As they made their way into his bedroom, flinging clothes and second thoughts every which way, she showed him.
****
There were no pagers. No alarms. No dangers of waking from another unfulfilled dream. Anu was in this for real. Vince was spread beneath her, a willing victim. The flesh was more stunning than any fantasy. He was all muscles and sinew, lightly haired arms and chest, the dark whorls of his hair growing thicker the further south they traveled. She almost wanted to pinch herself again, to double-check that this wasn’t her imagination, but instead she closed her teeth around the tender skin of his throat and marked him as her own. Let him be the one begging for mercy.
Vince swore, hips bucking off the king-sized mattress, and palmed the back of her head. He worked the tie on her hair, snapping the band and letting it all loose. It spilled around her like a curtain as she bracketed him between her thighs and continued her attack. If this was her chance, she was going to take it. To the hilt.
“Anu,” he called her, the unspoken demand in the sharp syllable. He wanted her to lay herself bare in more than just the expanse of her skin. But she couldn’t give him the words. She had to hold something back or she’d lose it all.
As if he could read her mind—which wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, given his multitude of talents—he rolled them so he was the one on top, and he took the lead.
Oh, God . Had she really thought she could master the great Dr. Vince McHenry? She’d only succeeded because he let her. Now, he was the one calling the shots, with his powerful grip, his consuming kisses, and his deft fingers scissoring inside her heat, touching places she didn’t know existed, and making her want to give up all of her secrets. He didn’t leave bruises; he didn’t need to. She would remember every place he pressed his mouth to, every hollow and angle he caressed.
“ Vince .” His name tore from her throat in a desperate plea. “Vince, Vince, Vince.” As he grabbed a condom from the nightstand, covered himself, and buried himself in her in one sure stroke, she gave him the only truth she could allow: the prayer that was his name.
****
Four days later, Vince could still hear the echo of Anu’s throaty cries. They haunted both his sleeping and waking moments. Her voice was his surgery music. VinceVinceVince. His name had turned into a keening wail as he drove her to the edge and they fell over it together, and he wasn’t sure he could ever hear it spoken again without remembering how, just for an instant, Anushka had let him in. They’d clung to each other, no barriers, no illusions. Just a man and a woman sharing the most sacred thing in the world next to holding someone’s life in your hands.
Then, she’d climbed out of his bed, gathered her clothes, and fled.
It was easy to play the avoidance game when you worked in different departments. She threw herself into what was, doubtless, an insane cardio rotation schedule. He had multiple procedures, a clinical trial to check in on, and a talk for the first year residents. He saw her name on the surgical board for an assist on a bypass, but he couldn’t track her down and demand to know what happened. There just wasn’t time, not for anything but the replay.
On the fifth day, after a four-hour nap in one of the on-call rooms that was riddled with lurid fantasies that made him feel like a twelve-year-old coming in his shorts, Vince knew avoidance was no longer an option. He had to see her. He had to get to the bottom of this. And I have to have her again .
“I’m sorry, Vince. I had her here for a full forty-eight. She clocked out for the
“Anushka,” he gasped, nudging aside the strap of her tank top and baring the soft, honeyed skin of her breasts. “Anushka, tell me you want this. Tell me how much you want this.”
She didn’t. As they made their way into his bedroom, flinging clothes and second thoughts every which way, she showed him.
****
There were no pagers. No alarms. No dangers of waking from another unfulfilled dream. Anu was in this for real. Vince was spread beneath her, a willing victim. The flesh was more stunning than any fantasy. He was all muscles and sinew, lightly haired arms and chest, the dark whorls of his hair growing thicker the further south they traveled. She almost wanted to pinch herself again, to double-check that this wasn’t her imagination, but instead she closed her teeth around the tender skin of his throat and marked him as her own. Let him be the one begging for mercy.
Vince swore, hips bucking off the king-sized mattress, and palmed the back of her head. He worked the tie on her hair, snapping the band and letting it all loose. It spilled around her like a curtain as she bracketed him between her thighs and continued her attack. If this was her chance, she was going to take it. To the hilt.
“Anu,” he called her, the unspoken demand in the sharp syllable. He wanted her to lay herself bare in more than just the expanse of her skin. But she couldn’t give him the words. She had to hold something back or she’d lose it all.
As if he could read her mind—which wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, given his multitude of talents—he rolled them so he was the one on top, and he took the lead.
Oh, God . Had she really thought she could master the great Dr. Vince McHenry? She’d only succeeded because he let her. Now, he was the one calling the shots, with his powerful grip, his consuming kisses, and his deft fingers scissoring inside her heat, touching places she didn’t know existed, and making her want to give up all of her secrets. He didn’t leave bruises; he didn’t need to. She would remember every place he pressed his mouth to, every hollow and angle he caressed.
“ Vince .” His name tore from her throat in a desperate plea. “Vince, Vince, Vince.” As he grabbed a condom from the nightstand, covered himself, and buried himself in her in one sure stroke, she gave him the only truth she could allow: the prayer that was his name.
****
Four days later, Vince could still hear the echo of Anu’s throaty cries. They haunted both his sleeping and waking moments. Her voice was his surgery music. VinceVinceVince. His name had turned into a keening wail as he drove her to the edge and they fell over it together, and he wasn’t sure he could ever hear it spoken again without remembering how, just for an instant, Anushka had let him in. They’d clung to each other, no barriers, no illusions. Just a man and a woman sharing the most sacred thing in the world next to holding someone’s life in your hands.
Then, she’d climbed out of his bed, gathered her clothes, and fled.
It was easy to play the avoidance game when you worked in different departments. She threw herself into what was, doubtless, an insane cardio rotation schedule. He had multiple procedures, a clinical trial to check in on, and a talk for the first year residents. He saw her name on the surgical board for an assist on a bypass, but he couldn’t track her down and demand to know what happened. There just wasn’t time, not for anything but the replay.
On the fifth day, after a four-hour nap in one of the on-call rooms that was riddled with lurid fantasies that made him feel like a twelve-year-old coming in his shorts, Vince knew avoidance was no longer an option. He had to see her. He had to get to the bottom of this. And I have to have her again .
“I’m sorry, Vince. I had her here for a full forty-eight. She clocked out for the
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