by Katie Meyer
Backing off had seemed the noble thing to do, but that was before she’d gotten all hot and bothered just stepping into his bedroom. Before he’d realized that she was as hot for him as he was for her. Shouldn’t they at least consider the idea?
He turned the burner down to low. The soup would keep, this conversation wouldn’t. If she turned him down, fine. But he didn’t think she would. She’d looked ready to combust, and he was more than willing to see just how hot things could get.
His body tightening in anticipation, he paused outside her door. It was still closed, so he knocked. No response. Another knock, and still no answer. This was foolish. Minutes ago she’d looked like she wanted to eat him with a spoon, now she was ignoring him? He’d done nothing to deserve the silent treatment, so why was she blowing him off?
Or maybe she was just in the bathroom, showering or something, and hadn’t heard him knock. That made more sense. And was easy enough to check. Spinning around he ducked back into his bedroom and found the door to the bathroom still open, as he’d left it. Cutting through the small tiled space he knocked on the door connecting to her room, harder this time, and it slid partway open.
“Listen, Jessica, if this is going to work you can’t just close me out...”
Except she hadn’t. She wasn’t ignoring him, or the moment they’d had. She was asleep. Passed out in the overstuffed chair he’d found at a yard sale. A book lay open in her lap; she must have dozed off while reading. Gently, careful not to wake her, he picked it up and set it on the nightstand, glancing at the cover. A Guide to Pregnancy and Baby Care.
He didn’t realize she’d been researching. Was he supposed to be doing that too? Probably. Either way, the book and the look of exhaustion on Jessica’s sleeping face were a one-two punch to his libido. He was supposed to be taking care of her, helping her. Instead he was letting the part of his body that had gotten them into this situation make his decisions for him.
Sure, maybe she was attracted to him. But she hadn’t chosen to act on it. She’d chosen to walk away, to focus on their baby, not their chemistry. Pushing her boundaries when she was obviously overwhelmed would be beyond selfish.
Harnessing his hormones, he grabbed the softly faded quilt folded at the end of the bed, another yard sale find, and covered her as best he could without waking her. He’d let her sleep, and reheat the soup for her later. The shadowing circles under her eyes said she needed the rest more than the food.
Letting himself back out he retreated to the kitchen. He needed to rethink everything, and thinking was best done on a full stomach. Bypassing the soup and her fancy bread, he made a sandwich and grabbed a beer from the fridge. Definitely past time for a drink, even if there was no one to toast his mixed-up marriage with.
Mixed-up was probably too generous. How did you describe a relationship where you were married, but you and your spouse had never been on a single date? Not to mention the whole parenting thing. And all of this chaos currently had an expiration date on it—that was the part he couldn’t handle.
Because no matter what they’d agreed to, he didn’t want to be a part-time dad when this year was over—seeing his kid only on weekends, if he was lucky. Seeing Jessica only in passing. And she was young, smart and hot as hell. How long would it be before some other guy was stepping into his place, kissing his kid good-night before climbing into bed with the woman he wanted for himself?
The woman he loved.
Hell.
The beer turned sour in his mouth. He was in love with his wife. Funny, he’d always assumed that would be a good thing. Of course, he’d assumed his wife would be in love with him too. Instead, the most he could say was that she was she was attracted to him. A good start, but a hell of a long way from love.
He pushed away from the table, dumping the uneaten sandwich in the trash and pouring the half-full can of beer down the sink. A beer buzz wasn’t what he needed right now. What he needed was a plan. A plan to win over Jessica. He needed to figure out a way to woo his own wife, and he had a year to do it.
Chapter Ten
Pleasure. Her body was going to explode with pleasure. Every nerve ending tingled as she arched into his body, needing to get just that little bit more contact. Needing to feel herself come apart as he found just the right angle. “Please... Ryan...” And then even words were too much and she was flying. She reached blindly for the headboard, for his shoulders, for anything to hold on to as she rode that moment of pure bliss.
“Ouch!”
Her knuckles rapped against something hard and she opened her eyes. Where the hell was she?
Ryan was nowhere to be found, and she wasn’t in a bed. She was half lying, half falling out of the big soft chair in Ryan’s guest room.
She’d been dreaming. That dream. Again.
Her head fell back against the soft cushion as her body struggled to separate fantasy from reality. She’d woken up like this, panting and flushed, half a dozen times in the last week. At least this time she’d climaxed...a few times she’d woken aching with need. That was way worse. If her sex life was going to be completely fictional it should at least be satisfying.
Gah. Thinking about it was going to get her all worked up again. Desperate for something else to focus on she took inventory of the room. She’d been too exhausted and well, horny, to take much notice before. The furnishings were simple. A twin bed with white sheets and a white bedspread. A simple pine nightstand and matching dresser. A small closet with louvered doors. Two windows, one over the bed and the other next to the chair she was sitting in, covered in a quilt she didn’t remember getting. Had she somehow pulled it off the bed in her sleep, or had Ryan come in here and done it?
Oh, no. Had he come in when she’d been dreaming about him? Had she made, well, noises? Or worse, moaned his name? Her face heated again, this time with embarrassment.
“Hey, Jessica, you awake yet?”
Ryan’s voice had her stumbling out of the chair, tripping over a foot that had fallen asleep while pinned under her. Cursing at the pins and needles sensation, she barely made it to the door without falling. “Yeah, um, just give me a minute. I’ll be right there.”
“Okay, no rush.”
He sounded normal, not like he’d overheard her lusting after him in her sleep. So that was good. Besides, she couldn’t stay hidden in the bedroom forever. Even if she could, she wasn’t a coward. She’d face him, just like she faced down anything that stood in the way of her and her future. With strength and conviction.
And some serious bed head.
Well, maybe bad hair would keep him from looking at her like she was the last doughnut in the box. Because strength and conviction didn’t feel like much of a defense against Ryan’s Irish charm.
“Did you sleep well?” Ryan called from the stove, where he was ladling soup into a bowl. A plate with buttered toast was already waiting on the scarred wooden table, along with a napkin and spoon.
She shrugged. She’d certainly dreamed well. “Is this for me?” She waved at the set table.
“Yeah, I ate earlier. Sorry, I guess I could have waited—”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m the one who flaked out and fell asleep.” She crunched into the toast. “How long was I out, anyway?”
“About three hours.”
She swallowed hard, nearly choking in surprise. Coughing, she reached for the glass of water he’d brought with the soup. “Oh wow, you should have woken me.”
Ryan perched on the edge of the table, a dishtowel thrown over his shoulder. “Why? You obviously needed the sleep. I took the time to clear out some space in the bathroom for you, and finished up my laundry in case you needed the washer and dryer at some point. Or I’m more than happy to do yours with mine, next time I do a load.”
She shook her head, her mouth full. The idea of their clothes tumbling together seemed way too intimate. And speaking
of intimates...no way was he going to be folding her panties. Just the idea had her wanting to head back to the bedroom and hide. “I can handle it.”
He shrugged, concern in his eyes. “Okay. But remember, the whole point of you moving in is to make things easier on you. I know I can’t carry the baby for you, or have your morning sickness, but I can cook and clean well enough. Run errands, whatever you need. Accepting help doesn’t mean you’re weak.”
Jessica blinked back a sudden rush of grateful tears. Her pride made it hard to depend on anyone, but he knew that and was trying to give her a way to save face. Even if she didn’t take him up on it, she appreciated the sentiment. “Thanks,” she said, meaning it. “I’ll let you know.”
“Make sure you do.” To emphasize the point he grabbed her empty dishes, his eyes daring her to stop him.
She almost took the bait. But really, it wasn’t worth arguing over, and if washing a few dishes made him feel like he was doing his part, who was she to stop him? “Thanks—for the food and the nap and cleaning up and everything. I’ll make it up to you.”
“It was canned soup and toast. You don’t owe me anything. Like I said, the whole point of all of this was to make things better for you and the baby.”
He kept saying that, but it still seemed like not enough of a reason to get married. She knew why she’d agreed to his terms—money. But what was his motive? Was it truly as innocent as he claimed, or did he want something more? She’d worry he was expecting certain...well...favors...but he’d clearly planned for her to have her own bedroom, and besides, that kind of manipulation didn’t fit with the Ryan she knew. Hell, he had enough women interested in him, he didn’t need to scheme to get one in his bed. So why was he doing it?
Well, there was one way to find out.
“And what about you, Ryan? What do you get out of all this?”
* * *
Ryan tightened his grip on the wet sponge in his hand. “I told you, I want to be a father to this baby, and I want to be there for you. I want to do the right thing.” The truth, but not the whole truth. Only because she wasn’t ready to hear all of it. If he told her that he hoped that their fake marriage would give them a chance to explore their very real feelings for each other she’d turn and run. And he couldn’t risk losing her. So he kept his back to her, wiping down an already-clean counter, hoping she’d hear the sincerity of his words and not push for more honesty than their fragile relationship could handle.
She left the table and stood beside him, in his personal space, trying to rattle him. The more enlightened part of his brain was impressed with her interrogation skills. The rest of him was just trying not to notice how good she smelled.
She reached out and put her hand on his arm, stopping his ridiculous scrubbing of phantom dirt. “Is that it? Is that the only reason you’re doing this?”
He risked meeting her gaze, and the unease in her eyes broke something inside him. “I didn’t invite you to move in so that I could have my way with you, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Of course not.” She was trying for blasé, but he would have sworn there was both relief and regret in her voice. “I just know that there’s been some...chemistry...and wanted to be sure that we were on the same page about that.”
Hell, how was he supposed to handle this? If he said he wasn’t interested in her that way, he’d be lying. But she needed to know she was safe here, or she wouldn’t stay.
Taking a slow breath in and then letting it out even slower, he set the sponge down and dried his hands before taking both of hers. She jumped at his touch, and knowing he had that effect on her made him want to crow like a rooster. But he kept his voice measured, weighing each word before speaking. “Jessica, I asked you to marry me because I think that we make a good team, and because I think it’s the best thing for our baby.”
She nodded, and started to pull away. But he wasn’t done yet. Still holding on to her, he continued, hoping his words would be the start of something, not the beginning of the end. “But I’ll admit, that’s not the only reason I want you here.”
Her eyes widened, and he felt her tremble in anticipation.
“I’m trying to do the right thing, but I’m not being totally selfless here. Like you said, we’ve got chemistry. But more than that, I just plain like having you around. I like seeing you smile in your sleep. I like making you toast. Hell, I even like how you pick at things, like my interest in the law, or my issues with my family—that you aren’t afraid to ask hard questions. And so yes, if I’m being honest I’d like a chance at more than just a pretend relationship. And maybe living together will give us that chance. But I’m not asking you to feel the same way, not now. I’m just asking you to be open to whatever might happen.”
This time when she pulled away, he let her. But rather than step back, she stood her ground, her hands running through her hair in...what? Frustration? Confusion?
“Why do you have to make things so complicated?” She looked up at him, as if waiting for an actual answer to what sounded like a rhetorical question.
“Complicated how?” It seemed pretty simple to him.
“This was supposed to be a business arrangement. Now you’re changing everything!” She spun away, and without thinking he reached out to turn her back.
He’d just wanted a chance to explain things to her face-to-face, but her momentum brought her crashing into him, her body instantly fitting against his as if they’d been carved from a single piece of driftwood. Carefully, he kept his touch on her arm light, letting her know that she could walk away if she wanted to, that he wasn’t going to force her into anything—it had to be her choice.
Leaning in, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Nothing has changed. I’ll do what I said, and support you however you need. When the year is up, I’ll respect whatever decision you make. I’m just saying that there’s something to be said for going with the flow, seeing what happens...”
She shivered at his words, or maybe from his breath on her ear. He pressed closer, and she arched her neck, turning her face up to his instinctively. Longing filled her eyes before her lids fluttered shut and her lips softened. Accepting the invitation, he met her mouth with his, softly exploring, not wanting to overwhelm her.
He needn’t have worried. Even as he gently nibbled at her bottom lip she was fisting her hands in his shirt, urging him on. Unwilling to be hurried, he kept his pace, thoroughly tasting her lips before finally delving in to the softness of her mouth. When his tongue touched hers she whimpered, a needy sound that tugged at his control. But still he held back, careful not to overpower her. Her body might be begging him for more, but he knew that once the lust faded she’d feel hurt and betrayed if she thought he’d used her physical reaction to manipulate the situation. And as good as she felt in his arms he wasn’t going to give her any reasons to feel she couldn’t trust him. He wanted this only if she did too—with her heart and soul, not just her body.
* * *
Jessica could feel Ryan holding back, and nearly growled in frustration. His patient, soothing kisses were all sorts of wonderful but nowhere near enough. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, maybe it was her body searching for a way to relieve some of the stress that had been suffocating her, but whatever the reason, his laid-back seduction was setting her on fire. Every inch of her skin craved his touch. Her breasts ached, her nipples hard with need where they pressed against the sculpted planes of his chest.
She knew he felt a matching desire, the evidence of his arousal was pressed against her, and yet still he kept his control, never crossing over into the type of passion she knew he could deliver—the type that would wipe her mind clean of anything but sensation. The kind she dreamed about every night.
Taking matters into her own hands, she grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled, freeing it from his jeans.
Working her hands underneath she ran her nails along his
spine, grinning at the groan she elicited. Encouraged, she did it again, this time dipping down lower before working them around to his waist and then up his chest. She let her fingers tangle in the coarse hair she found there. Moving her mouth to his jaw she nipped and tasted her way to his ear. “Don’t be careful with me.” She didn’t want his caution, not now.
He paused at her words, angling his head as if trying to read her face. She met his gaze, and whatever he saw must have met his approval. He gave a raw, feral smile before scooping her up and lifting her onto the counter. She wrapped her legs around him, gasping as he loosened the top button on her shirt and then kissed the exposed skin.
Yes. This was what she needed—to forget all the questions and the uncertainty and just feel.
She gripped the edge of the counter, focusing on the movement of his fingers, his lips. The pace was still too slow, but now she could feel that he was with her, no longer detached—his ragged breath tracking with her own.
He paused, his fingers hot on the swell of her breast above her bra. “Do you want to move to the bedroom?” He didn’t say which, his or hers, and she didn’t care. Both were way too far away. She didn’t need a bed, she needed release. Now.
Panting, she shook her head and started in on the rest of the buttons herself. She’d freed the last one when the brash chorus of “Who Let the Dogs Out” echoed through the kitchen.
“What the heck?” Ryan’s eyes darted around the room.
“It’s my phone.”
He looked like he might question the choice of ringtone, but then shook it off. “Ignore it.”
“I can’t. It’s the ringtone for Cassie, my brother’s wife. He was working today...”
She didn’t continue but Ryan nodded, understanding. They both knew the risks cops took, and knew what an unexpected phone call might mean.
Pushing past him she darted to her purse where it hung on one of the kitchen chairs and dug out her phone. As she answered she said a silent prayer of protection for her brother. The guy annoyed the heck of her, but he was family.