“I love you, Lauren. I really do. But,” he said a few minutes later, “I wouldn’t do this if my life depended on it, even if I could. Thank God, I can’t.”
Moments later, Dale lifted her chin with his index finger. Crouched in front her, the awe he felt still showing in his eyes, he told her, “God gave me the greatest gift I’ve ever known the day you told me you were pregnant. It made me see you as something other than my best friend. It made me see you.”
* * * * *
Krista was one month old today, Lauren thought. Depressing. It was going by so quickly. She had gained a good two pounds and her little face was filling out. Lauren sulked as she tried to fasten a pair of pre-pregnancy jeans. Still too tight through the hips and waist. Eyeing the little pouch of flesh with acute dislike, she threw the jeans down and reached for a pair of stretch pants to wear with her sweater.
She was tired of stretch pants.
Dale strolled into the room, a pair of unfastened jeans tugged around his lean hips, rubbing his gold streaked hair with a towel. Licking her lips, she watched as a drop of water slid down his neck, his chest, to disappear into the vee of his open jeans. She was thinking about heading over to him and helping him back out of those jeans when he shot her a vague smile before tossing down the towel and heading out of the room.
She was also tired of celibacy.
Krista was in the bassinet in the living room, down for her afternoon nap. She’d sleep a good two hours, Lauren knew, and wake up starving. She picked up the towel Dale had thrown across the bed and carried it into the bathroom to hang up. The air was hot and steamy from the shower, the scent of his soap hanging in the air.
It was pretty pathetic when the scent of a man’s soap turned a woman on, Lauren decided. It would be another two weeks before the doctor released her and Lauren was still too uncomfortable to even be entertaining the thought of going and seducing her seemingly uninterested husband.
She had been expecting, even anticipating, his suggestive bantering and teasing. It hadn’t come. He hadn’t teased with her or joked with her in more than a month. They were polite to each other, friendly even. But Dale treated her like she was made of spun glass.
Worse, he treated her like his best friend again.
Her hand reached out and she tugged the towel off the bar, pressing her face to it, willing herself not to cry.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“He doesn’t even act like he wants me any more,” Lauren said morosely, picking at the salad she had ordered for lunch. Dale was watching Krista so Lauren could get out of the house. She and Jennifer were having lunch at a little cafe in Louisville and then heading out for some shopping. She firmly pushed the little twinges of guilt away, knowing she wasn’t the type of woman who stayed by her baby’s side twenty four-seven. She didn’t want to be; it wasn’t good for her or for Krista.
Krista had taken to the supplemental bottle-feeding well enough, as long as Lauren wasn’t the one feeding her. If Lauren held her, Krista absolutely refused to have anything to do with the bottle. Any time Lauren tried, Krista set up a wail to wake the dead.
“Sugar, you’ve got almost two weeks before you could even do anything, even if you wanted,” Jennifer replied.
Narrowing her eyes at her friend, Lauren scowled. “There are other ways,” she loftily informed Jennifer. “And he’s damned good at them. But it’s not that, it’s the way he acts. Like I’m his…sister, or just good ole Lauren again. I can’t go back to being his buddy, Jennifer.”
“Then maybe you should show him that you’re not his buddy. Start teasing him a little. By the time Dr. Flynn gives you the okay, he’ll be absolutely mad for you.”
“Not with this body,” Lauren muttered. She had yet to lose ten of the sixteen pounds she’d gained and her belly would never be what it had been. Faint purple stretch marks marred her ivory skin and her rarely exercised vanity was coming into play. Worse, nursing hadn’t just made her breasts a little larger, it had also taken away the firmness. She looked plain and dumpy, and she hated it.
Jennifer eyed Lauren over the rim of her glass and rolled her eyes. The woman was an idiot, she decided. She knew exactly what Lauren was thinking and was hard pressed not to laugh over it. Her figure, always gorgeous, was more lush than before and she had this glow about her. Being a mommy suited her well. With a sigh of disgust over her rather scrawny body, she hoped she’d come out of pregnancy as well as Lauren had.
“Lauren, you are an idiot,” Jennifer said, deciding not to be subtle. Lauren was feeling way too much self-pity. “Most of the weight is because you’re nursing. The rest will come off in time. You’re too self-disciplined for it not to come off.”
“Great. So until I’m done nursing my child, which is the best way to feed a baby, my husband isn’t going to want me.”
“That’s not what I said,” Jennifer snapped. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and do something about it.”
Lauren opened her mouth to tell Jennifer to go to hell. But she closed it with a snap as she realized she was feeling sorry for herself. She was pouting, for crying out loud. “Honestly, do I look okay?”
She was seated, but Jennifer could visualize well enough. Long legs showcased in leggings that fit like a second skin, a sweater that would make any man who saw her want to cuddle her against him. Her hair was twisted into a French braid, a perfect look for her, allowing one to see the heavy lidded gray eyes, perfectly arched brows and wide mouth. “Lauren, I’d kill to look like you do right now. I can’t look that good on my best day,” Jennifer said with disgust, because it was the honest truth. Lauren had given birth four and a half weeks ago and had drawn more looks of male appreciation in the past few hours than Jennifer drew in a week.
A slightly pleased, slightly embarrassed grin on her face, Lauren set her glass down and reached for the check. “Let’s go shopping.”
* * * * *
Dale glanced up as Lauren said from the doorway, “She’s asleep. I think I’ll take a shower.” He replied with an absent hum as he tapped away at his keyboard. It wasn’t until he heard the water running that he scrubbed his hands over his face.
He knew, technically, a man couldn’t die from unrequited lust. But it sure as hell felt like he could.
The last month had been rough, but the past week had been pure hell. As the images of delivery faded, his hunger for Lauren grew steadily. Certain that the last thing she wanted from him right now was any sign of that, he had hidden it as best as he could, rising early in the morning, exercising like a weight trainer gone mad, and taking enough cold showers for a battleship of sailors.
One more week. He could handle one more week. But, hell, what would he do if she weren’t ready after another week? Physically or emotionally?
She was so damn cool to him any more.
After that fight, the one that had made him take off for New York, things hadn’t been right between them. Dale was starting to worry that things weren’t going to ever be right.
They could have lost Krista.
He could have lost her.
And it would have been all his fault.
A cold sweat broke out over his body as he listened to the running water. He could see her, standing under the pounding shower, hair slicked back from that lovely face, her body wet and warm, flushed from the heat.
Shit, he thought with disgust. If he kept this up, he wouldn’t survive the night, much less the week.
Closing his eyes, he concentrated on anything that would settle his body. His blood had started to cool and his head had started to clear when he heard a sound at the door. Lauren was standing there, wet and fragrant from her shower. Thick ropes of ebony hair hung around her strong shoulders. Beads of water clung to her face, neck and shoulders, ran down her legs. The thick white towel she had wrapped around her was far too brief for Dale’s comfort.
“You need something?” he asked, voice a little hoarse. In a move he hoped was casual, he spun the chair around so that he was once
more facing the keyboard.
“Yes.”
That single word was all she said and after a minute, he cautiously turned his head. When he was looking at her, she moved out of the doorway, a smile playing at her mouth. She laid her hands on his shoulders, turning him back to her. His throat was too tight for him to speak as she smiled down at him.
A ragged groan left his throat as she dropped to her knees in front of him. Busy fingers unzipped his jeans and pulled them down over his hips. Before he even had a chance to hope he knew what she was up to, she was already doing it, her mouth closing around him, wet and warm, while her fingers played delicately on his skin.
A witch, he thought. Or a dream. But the reality of her mouth moving on him, as she took the initiative as never before, was no dream. She deep throated him, a sexy little hum leaving her throat when he shuddered underneath her mouth. Closing his hands in her wet hair, he gasped out, “Lauren, what are you doing?”
She paused, lifting her head to smile at him, her mouth red and swollen.
“If you have to ask, I can’t be doing it right.”
“Sweetheart, you get it any more right, I’ll be dead,” he rasped as she lowered her head once more. Her teeth nipped delicately at the sac of his balls before she nibbled her way up his shaft, taking him deep in her mouth again.
His skin was hot and smooth under her fingers, and the taste of him, salt and musk, had an ache throbbing between her thighs. Uninterested, my butt, she thought smugly.
She had missed this, missed feeling his smooth, steely cock in her mouth, missed feeling his hands in her hair as he pumped his shaft in and out of her mouth until he came, shooting come down her throat that felt like and tasted like molten fire.
The look she glimpsed in his eyes when he first looked at her had her wondering and what she had come into the room for was forgotten.
Until she was on her knees in front of him, she had no idea what she was going to do. It certainly hadn’t been this. She had never gone down on him with the sole intent of giving him a blowjob. The few times he’d urged her to go down on him, she had enjoyed it, but she generally avoided doing it. Dale let her get by with it and she was always repaid in kind, which made it even more worthwhile.
But, the surge of power she was riding on had her wondering why in the hell she had ever avoided it. So what if she wasn’t getting an orgasm of her very own? Feeling him quiver and surge against her, feeling his powerful body shaking was almost as good as an orgasm. The ache between her thighs spread to her belly and breasts but she didn’t mind.
He wanted her. Still wanted her. She could sense it, feel it, and after a few moments more, she could taste it as he climaxed with a groan. Hot semen flooded her throat and she swallowed it, swallowed more of him, stroking up and down until the last of the quivers faded from his body, until his cock stopped bobbing and jerking in her mouth.
She settled back on her heels, wiped her hand over her mouth and smiled serenely at him. Then she rose, adjusting her towel and calmly said, “I’m going to bed. Good night.”
It was one hell of an exit line, she decided, as his eyes burned into her naked back.
Dale watched through dazed eyes as she sauntered out of the office, his chest heaving as he sucked in much needed oxygen. Damnation, but what had brought that on? Not that he was complaining, mind, but he wanted to know so he could be sure to do whatever it was again.
Shortly after Lauren bid him good night so sweetly, Dale shut down the computer and got ready to join her. He went to check on Krista, lingering over her crib while he studied her sleeping face. Her little mouth was puckered in a slight pout and she shifted in her sleep.
She was so perfect, so tiny. Dale’s hands felt huge and clumsy when he held her, and he thought his heart would break from the emotion that swelled inside him every time he looked at her.
He left the nursery after checking the monitor. The moonlight was spilling across the bed, their bed. Lauren was lying on her side, turned towards him. As he shucked his jeans, she opened her eyes and smiled a sleepy smile before sighing and snuggling deeper into the pillow. He slid under the covers and wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he murmured, hoping she wasn’t asleep.
She curled her hand around his shoulder, smiled against his bare skin and said softly, “I know.” Then she pressed a kiss to his chest, yawned, and fell asleep almost instantly.
Sometime near dawn, Dale rose and gently lifted Krista from her mother’s arms. Having eaten her fill, she was ready for her own bed again. Lauren refastened the button down shift she wore, already falling back to sleep. Dale slid in bed behind her, wrapped his arms around her middle, and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. She murmured as he pressed another kiss to her skin, this one on her neck.
“…Dale?”
His only answer was to glide his hand up and down her side, stroking her skin with a feather light touch. Lauren’s eyes blinked open and she rolled her head forward, baring her neck. One hand slid around her, cupping her breast, shaping it while he nibbled along the cord in the side of her neck. A bead of milk gathered at her nipple, wetting the front of her shift as she rolled back against him. Heat spiraled in her body, spreading from the inside outward until even the tips of her fingers tingled.
Hands slid down her hips, pulling her into contact with a hard, aroused body. “Dale, I can’t…”
“Sure you can,” he murmured, slipping one finger into the nest of hair between her thighs, sliding back and forth through her slick, wet center. “I just can’t.”
A low hum of pleasure sounded in the back of her throat as he slid the one wicked finger inside her, slowly, gently. She whimpered and he stilled abruptly. “Am I hurting you?”
“No,” she whispered, pressing her hips forward, against his hand. “Dale, please.”
He chuckled, burying his face in her hair. “If you insist.” Then he secured her against him with one arm and shifted until he was sitting with her cradled in his lap, facing away from him. He caught her legs with his, spreading them, opening her wide to his touch. Then his hands resumed their play on her heated skin. One hand fondled her breasts while the other found her center, pressing against her, circling around her clit, dipping inside to stroke.
Against her neck, he whispered, “God, Lauren. You can’t know how it feels to hold you, to touch you and hear the sweet sounds you make.” He slid one finger in and out, slowly, carefully, aware of her tight, still healing body. “I felt like half of me was missing, and now you’re back. Come for me, baby. Let me feel it again.”
Lauren arched backward, half sobs rising in her throat as the pressure built inside her body, inside her groin, until she thought she would surely burst from it. Dale was muttering in her ear, praising her, adoring her, while she shot swiftly to the peak. With a flick of his thumb, the dip of his finger inside her body, she fell over, the cream from her body flooding his hand as she arched back against him. Her breath caught in her chest as she plummeted back to earth.
She was still gasping for air when Dale straightened her shift and slid back down in the bed, cradling her against him. She had barely registered the whispered, “I love you,” before she dropped into sleep.
* * * * *
The day of her six-week check up, Lauren woke with her mood sky high. Krista seemed to sense her mother’s happy state of mind, for she was cooing and gurgling with pleasure almost from the minute her eyes opened.
A portrait stood by the back door, kitchen lights casting a glow into the far corners. Outside, the sky was overcast and gloomy, but Lauren hummed gaily as she added a bit of color to the cheeks. It was a portrait of Dale and Krista, him seated in the rocker, bare chested, while he cuddled his newborn daughter against him. She was reaching upward with one little hand, and Dale had a bemused, awed smile on his gorgeous face.
She surveyed it nearly an hour later with critical eyes. It wasn’t
the best work she had ever done, but portraits had never been her strong suit. It was damn good, though. Dale’s birthday was two days away. She’d hide it until then. She cast her napping child a look before heading for the little spare room tucked behind the stairs. She stored her off-season and evening clothes there. If she was lucky, the portrait would fit in the closet.
Several hours later, the doctor was giving her the okay. Dale, cheeks a dull red, couldn’t hide the broad grin on his face. Dr. Flynn turned away while Lauren donned her jeans, dropping the paper drape into the trash while the doctor cooed over the baby sleeping in Dale’s arms.
“You know, she has your mouth, Lauren,” Dr. Flynn said, tracing the tiny cupid bow that was a diminutive replica of Lauren’s. “But the rest of her, that’s her daddy all over. Call me if you have any problems.”
Lauren froze in the process of straightening her hair, the color draining from her face as Dr. Flynn left the room, unaware of the storm that was about to break. Dale smiled, about to make a remark when he noticed the odd look in her eyes. He started to speak, but his throat closed. Looking down at Krista, her face, so similar to his. Her nose and chin, the shape of her ears.
She was him all over.
And he remembered.
Drunk as a wino, opening the door to see Lauren wearing a gauzy purple shirt, the amethyst he had given her around her long pale neck. Lauren sighing, closing her hands over his, telling him, “Doesn’t matter much who, or what. I know how you feel, though.” Offering to fix him some supper, then him grabbing her, pulling her up against him.
He remembered, clear as day, stripping her naked, going down on her while she tried to push him away. Taking her against the wall like a sailor with a hooker after months of celibacy. Remembered the hot wet embrace of her body, her long legs wrapped around his waist.
And he wondered how he could have possibly forgotten.
His baby. Really his.
Cold fury settled in his belly as he rose, Krista still sleeping peacefully against his chest, unaware of the tension in the air. In silence, he walked out of the room, Lauren standing behind, staring at him.
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