She cleared away the items she’d used to suture Lucas’s head wound and surveyed what was left of the hospital. Great, gaping wounds scarred the outside wall to her left, the sky was visible as she looked up to the right corner of the room.
As soon as patients were stable, they were being transported to what had been the staff’s camp. Outside, they were at risk of infection, and being open to the elements meant running some of the machines would be impossible, but it was preferable to staying in a building that was essentially a ruin.
#
“We’re flying out in the morning,” Lucas told Frankie. “I’ve just received a message the helicopter will fly us to Miami and from there we’ll fly home.”
“Great.” There was no enthusiasm in her voice.
“You’re not pleased to be going home? I know you have a lot to sort out, but I thought you’d be pleased to see your family, have a bit of normality after the time we’ve spent here.”
She shrugged. “Going home is a bit bittersweet really. I’ve changed and I don’t really know where I belong anymore.”
“You can help your father with the charity and there’s the auction to concentrate on. You’ll be busy, with no time to overthink what happened here.”
“Is that what you do, Lucas?” Frankie opened the door to her room and pulled Lucas in after her. “Do you make yourself so busy you forget the horrors you’ve seen, the nightmare you’ve lived through?”
Lucas almost tripped over his crutches before he righted himself and closed the door behind them. He wasn’t sure what answer she wanted him to give. “If you take too much time going over your previous mission, you’d never do another. You’d never go to another place that needs you as much as Astoria needed us.”
“And that’s what you’ll spend your life doing?” She rubbed one agitated hand against the other. “Having a nomadic existence, trying to mend other people’s disasters so you don’t have to face your own?”
“Why are you doing this?” He moved towards her, wanting to stop her words. He didn’t want to have to explain himself to her, didn’t need to, actually. He’d told her over and over this wasn’t anything personal. It was sex.
“You!” She pointed a finger at him, accusation in her action and her single word. “You hide behind your job so you don’t have to face reality.”
“Don’t let’s do this.” He balanced with one crutch, letting the other fall to the floor. “Not on our last night.”
“When else…”
He cut her sentence off as he pressed his lips to hers. Adjusting his feet and applying slight pressure, he brought them both down to the sleeping bag on the floor. She tried to untangle herself and pull up and away from him, but Lucas swept his tongue into her mouth, deepening the kiss.
When she relaxed, he made a show of looking at his watch. “We’ve got seven hours, Frankie. Do you really want to spend that time talking about my failings or can you think of something better to do with our time?”
She shook her head slightly as though deeply disappointed in him, but didn’t miss a beat. She gave him a flirty smile. “You sure you can manage with your leg?”
“I’m not going to be doing anything to you with my leg, Frankie.”
“I know. I meant…”
“I’m sure we can improvise. You can...”
Lucas stopped talking as Frankie pulled up his scrubs top and trailed a line down his stomach with her tongue. His muscles clenched as her warm breath feathered against his skin.
“Yes,” she told him. “I most certainly can.”
Seven hours. Then they’d begin their journey home. He expected to see her again when he worked with her and her parents to organise his charity, but that was it.
No more touching, no more kissing. No more…Lucas groaned as Frankie’s mouth caressed his erection. God, but she made him feel more than anyone ever had before. It was a good thing this was their last night together because he was in danger of doing something he’d never done before—continuing what should end as a temporary fling.
Frankie made her way back up his body, her scrubs sliding against his in a whisper of cotton against cotton. She kissed him, her hips moving sinuously against his. His body heated everywhere her skin lay against his. She had on entirely too many clothes.
“I want to feel every inch of you, Frankie. Take off all of your clothes.” He pulled at her bottoms, trying to move upwards to help her out of her scrubs.
With a gentle shove to the centre of his chest, she pushed him down onto his back once more.
Getting to her feet, she stretched up her arms and pulled off her scrubs top, flinging it at him. As her hips gyrated, her breasts bounced softly. Lucas’s mouth went dry and he lost the ability to swallow.
“Get down here.” His voice was gruff, he barely recognised it as his own.
“You wanted me naked,” she retorted, humming a tune that sounded suspiciously like an old Tina Turner track.
“Is that…are you singing Private Dancer?”