He Left Me in the Snow for Her Labor, So I Delivered It novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Stairwell B

In the stairwell, Ines takes what she wants from Roderick against the wall, sets the rule that this lasts only until the roads open, and reads Bram's text with Roderick's heat still on her.

I typed one-handed to the resident: Strip looks fine from here. Back in twenty. Call me if anything changes.

Then I put the pager face down on the concrete step and turned back to Roderick.

He hadn't moved, but his chest was going hard, and his eyes were black.

"Twenty minutes," I said.

"That's not enough."

"It's what I have. I'm choosing to spend it on you."

He looked at me for a long moment, and then he pushed off the door and crossed the landing in two steps.

"Then I'm going to use all of it," he said.

He picked me up by the backs of my thighs, and my spine met the wall again, and my legs locked around his waist.

I kissed him with my whole mouth, and he took it and gave it back.

His tongue was slow and thorough, and he tasted like coffee and cold air.

I pulled his scrub top over his head, and I dropped it on the stairs.

He was broad and hard through the chest, with gray hair across it and a long white scar down the left side of his ribs.

I put my mouth on the scar.

"Car accident," he said roughly. "Fifteen years ago."

"I'm going to kiss every part of it," I said.

"Ines."

"Don't talk. Hold me up."

He held me up with one arm, and with the other hand he pushed my scrub pants down my hip and to my knee and left them hanging off one ankle.

His fingers slid along the front of my underwear and found it soaked.

He stopped breathing.

"God," he said. "Look at you."

"I'm not shy," I said. "I want your hand."

"Where?"

"Inside. Now."

He pulled the cotton aside and pushed two fingers into me, slowly, all the way, and I cried out against his shoulder.

The stairwell caught the sound and sent it up the shaft toward the roof.

"Quiet," he said, and then, "No. Don't be quiet. Let them hear."

"Nobody comes in here at night."

"Then be as loud as you want."

He fucked me with his hand until my hips were rolling against it and I could not tell whether I was begging.

His thumb found my clit and pressed in small tight circles.

"That's it," he said against my ear. "That's exactly it. You're so wet for me, Ines. Do you know what that does to me?"

"Show me."

"You first."

"I'll come on your hand," I said, "and then I'm going to come on your cock, and I'm not going to wait for permission."

His whole body shuddered.

"You never have to wait," he said. "Not for me."

I came with my head tipped back against the concrete and my fingers digging into his shoulders.

It broke over me in pulses, one after another, and he kept moving his fingers until I was whimpering and pulling at him to stop.

"Good," he said, kissing my throat. "That's so good. You're gorgeous when you come."

I was still shaking when I reached between us and undid his drawstring.

He was thick and heavy in my hand, and so hot it startled me.

He dropped his head against my shoulder and swore.

I stroked him once, root to tip, and his hips jerked.

I did it again, slower, with my thumb across the wet tip, and he made a low noise into my shoulder.

"You've thought about this," I said.

"Every day for four years."

"What did you think about?"

"This." His voice was rough and unsteady. "Your hand on me. You telling me what to do."

"Then listen. You don't come until I say."

"Ines," he said, and his hips jerked in my hand.

"Say yes."

"Yes," he breathed. "Yes, I'll wait."

I held him in my fist and rubbed the head of him through the wet cotton between my legs, back and forth, until we were both shaking.

He bit down on my shoulder, not hard, and the sound he made went straight through me.

It was the first time in years that a man had wanted me this badly, and I let myself feel every second of it.

"I want you inside me," I said. "I want it hard. I want to feel it tomorrow."

"You will," he said.

I guided him to my entrance myself.

He pushed into me in one long slow stroke, and the stretch took my breath out of my body.

He was big, bigger than anyone I had ever had, and I felt every inch of it sink in.

He stopped when he was buried to the base, and held there, panting.

"Okay?"

"More than okay," I said. "Move."

"Say please."

I laughed, and then he drew back and drove in, and I stopped laughing.

"Please," I gasped. "Roderick, please."

"There it is."

He fucked me against the wall of Stairwell B with the bare bulb swinging overhead.

Each thrust lifted me up the concrete and brought me down on him again.

His hands gripped my ass, and his breath was loud and ragged in my ear.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and gave him my mouth, and he took it, and the rhythm broke into something rough and fast.

"Harder," I said.

He gave me harder.

"Tell me I'm good," I said, and I didn't know where that came from, except that I had been told for years I was tolerable.

"You're perfect," Roderick said into my hair. "You're the best thing in this building. You're the only reason I come in on weekends."

My chest cracked open at that, and I pulled his face down and kissed him until neither of us had air.

He angled his hips and hit something inside me that made my vision white.

"There," I gasped. "Right there. Don't stop."

"Not stopping. Not for anything."

His pace did not change, and the pressure inside me wound tighter with every stroke, and I was crying and laughing.

I came the second time with a shout I didn't recognize as mine.

My legs clamped around his waist, and my body locked and pulled at him, and he groaned out my name.

"Ines. I can't. I'm going to."

"Do it. I want to feel it."

He buried his face in my neck and came inside me with a long shuddering moan.

His whole weight leaned into me, and his heart pounded against my breastbone.

We stayed there against the wall, locked together, breathing, while the bulb stopped swinging.

After a while he lifted his head and looked at me, flushed, with his hair stuck to his forehead.

"I should say something," he said.

"Don't say anything gentle. I'll cry, and I have a patient."

"Then I'll say something practical." He lowered me to my feet and held me until my knees took my weight. "Whatever this is, it's tonight."

"Until the roads open," I said.

"Until the roads open."

"Two people in a storm," I said. "That's all we are. After that you're Dr. Lyle, and I'm Dr. Maldonado, and we say good morning in the hall."

He pulled his scrub top over his head slowly.

"That's what you want?"

"That's what I can survive," I said.

He nodded once, and his face gave nothing away.

I stepped back into my pants and tied the drawstring, and my hands were not quite steady.

I picked up the pager.

It had buzzed against the stairs twice while we were not listening, and one other thing was waiting on my phone.

A text from Bram, delivered four minutes ago.

Where ARE you? Call me, I need you. This is really bad timing for your attitude.

I read it with Roderick's heat still running down the inside of my thigh.

Then I turned my phone off, and I put it in my pocket, and I went to find his girlfriend's chart.

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