Bluegrass Baby. Judy Duarte

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Bluegrass Baby - Judy  Duarte

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could throw caution to the wind. Do something wild for a change. Experience something she might never experience again.

      She could make love to Kyle Bingham, resident heartthrob of Merlyn County Regional Hospital. If his kiss could turn her inside out, what would their lovemaking be like?

      They hadn’t closed the sexually charged gap between them, yet she could hear his heart pounding, feel his blood rushing through his veins. Or was that her own?

      “Let’s take this inside,” he said. “Behind closed doors.”

      Milla knew she should pull herself together and graciously decline. But the fact of the matter was she wanted more of Kyle’s kisses, more of his touch.

      And she wanted it now.

      He stepped toward her and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. His heated gaze drew her into the sexual depths of something she couldn’t resist.

      “All right.” Her voice held a seductive edge she’d never noticed before. And when the words left her mouth, she didn’t regret them. Not at all.

      He caught her cheek in his hand and brought his mouth to hers in a hot, breath-stealing kiss that spoke a promise—not of forever, but of fulfillment.

      But that’s all she needed tonight.

      Fulfillment.

      To feel competent and capable, no longer shaken by the unfairness of the Canfields’ charges. To have her confidence restored in the arms of a doctor who made her heart soar and her blood race.

      “Okay. Let’s go,” she said. “You lead the way.”

      They each climbed into their cars, and she followed Kyle to the outskirts of town, where he turned down a quiet little street called Bluebonnet Lane. His black BMW pulled under a carport near the end unit of a sage-colored triplex flanked by duplexes on each side. She parked on the street.

      Funny, she’d imagined him living somewhere else, someplace expensive and grand. Not that it mattered, of course.

      He opened her door in a gentlemanly manner, then helped her from the car.

      “I bought these units as an investment,” Kyle said, as he led her to the front door. “My mom lives in one side of the first duplex. She’s a proud lady and won’t let me help her out financially. So we reached a compromise. She watches out for the other units in exchange for rent. When I move back to Boston, she’ll oversee this one, too.”

      When he let her inside the small home, she wasn’t sure what to expect. Something to match his GQ clothing and his flashy car, she supposed. Instead she found the living room had been decorated simply. A plain brown sofa. White walls. Miniblinds on the window overlooking the street. His place was clean and almost sterile.

      The only thing that stood out was a big-screen television that seemed out of place.

      “I’m not home often,” he said, as though reading her thoughts. “I couldn’t see any point in buying furniture or in putting anything on the walls. I’ve got all I need.”

      She nodded, scanning the sparse, uncluttered room, unable to keep from wondering if he ever felt lonely in a place that seemed to be little more than four walls, a sofa and a theater-size TV.

      “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, his voice low, almost quiet. “A glass of wine, maybe?”

      The attraction between them remained hot, yet neither moved.

      Was Kyle nervous, too? The dapper doctor who had every single midwife and nurse on staff at the clinic and the hospital giggling and whispering like girls with a crush on the new boy at school?

      Maybe so.

      The thought pleased her and made her feel feminine and powerful. The arousing effect only bolstered her confidence in the decision she’d made to follow him home.

      She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled. “I don’t think either of us came here wanting more to drink.”

      He tossed her a crooked grin, and all signs of nervousness fell away. “You’re right. I was just trying to be a good host.”

      Feeling bolder than she’d ever felt before, Milla stepped closer, reached a hand to his cheek, brushed a thumb across his angular jaw and felt the tingle from the faint bristle of his beard. “Maybe one more kiss will make this easier for both of us.”

      She’d barely lifted her lips to his when he took the lead, took her tongue and took her breath away.

      Lordy, how that man could kiss.

      Milla lost herself in the wet, velvety confines of Kyle’s mouth. And in the heat of his embrace, reality slipped away and magic took its place, releasing a display of mystical fireworks that lit her heart and soul.

      Kyle wasn’t sure what it was about Milla that swept him away, but he wasn’t about to analyze it, not when he held her in his arms and felt her breasts splayed against his chest as she leaned into his demanding erection.

      He’d never lost himself in a woman before, hadn’t ever expected to, but he seemed to be momentarily losing himself in Milla, in her kiss and the soft swirl of her springtime scent. He might be sorry later, but that’s when he would think about it.

      Later. After he’d buried himself in her softness, lost himself in the passion that plagued them both. There was a heat in Milla’s touch, a fire in her kiss. And he couldn’t seem to get enough of her.

      She tugged at his shirt, pulling it from the waistband of his slacks, and then grabbed at his belt, freeing him. Freeing them both.

      All the while, her mouth held his in sweet surrender. Her fingers blazed a trail along his skin, singeing his nerve endings.

      He reached for the zipper of her dress, unleashing the black cotton, and he slipped the garment off her shoulders. He wanted to feel her skin on his, breasts to chest. And he doubted they could remove their clothes fast enough.

      But Kyle wasn’t about to take Milla on the living room floor, not this time, anyway. With reluctance, he broke the kiss and took her hand. “Come with me.” Then he led her down the hall and into the bedroom.

      She stood before him by the king-size bed. Her dress had fallen to the waist, revealing a satiny black bra over hardened and responsive nipples. A sexual flush blazed across her throat and chest, announcing a desire every bit as strong as his.

      He cupped her face, brushed a thumb across the silky texture of her cheek and saw the glaze of passion in those pretty brown eyes. “You’re a beautiful woman, Milla.”

      She blushed, and again he was taken by her lack of pretense. Couldn’t she see what he saw?

      “I want to make this special for you.” And damn it, he did. There was something virginal about her, something sweet and innocent. But she didn’t kiss him like a virgin or touch him like one.

      She pushed her dress over her hips, then stepped out of the garment and stood before him in skimpy black undergarments. He watched as she unhooked her bra and freed two perfect breasts. His breath caught, and his testosterone raged.

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