by J. Kenner
And blissful it is.
His touch is gentle but firm as he massages the soles of my feet, and it feels so good I actually whimper when he stops so that he can move his hands up and gently rub my swollen ankles. He does that for a while, and I expect him to stop, slide up my body, and kiss me.
Apparently Jackson has other plans.
Instead of stopping, he continues on by stroking my calves, the pressure rhythmic but firm, and I feel waves of tension leave my body as I pretty much turn to jelly. "That's so nice," I say, my voice sounding far away and sleepy. But he doesn't answer. Instead, he gently tugs my legs apart and presses his lips to the soft skin of my right inner thigh, even while he gently strokes the left with the pad of his thumb.
He teases me, the tip of his tongue grazing lightly over my leg as he moves higher and higher, his hands on my thighs keeping me still despite the fact that I want to writhe with pleasure and anticipation. "Jackson!" I cry as he moves higher--as he's so very close, and I'm so very turned on. He says nothing in response, but his fingertip teases the edge of my panties, and I'm so turned on--so ready--that I gasp, then bite my lower lip, wanting his touch and yet so on fire that I'm not sure I'll be able to survive when he touches me more intimately.
"Jackson, please," I murmur, not sure if I'm begging him to stop or continue. It doesn't matter. He is relentless, and he runs the tip of his tongue between my thigh and pantyline even as he tugs the crotch of my underwear to the side, and I feel the rush of cool air mixed with his breath, and it's such a wonderfully decadent feeling that I almost go over right then.
I hear his murmur of satisfaction, and then I gasp and arch up as his mouth closes over me, his tongue teasing my clit, the pressure so right and perfect--and my body so damn primed and sensitive--that I can't hold it in any longer. Electricity shoots all the way through me, firing my skin, reducing me to ash as I shake and tremble and explode--all the while crying out the name of the man I love.
Jackson held his breath, overwhelmed by the way Sylvia shattered in his arms, still awed by the knowledge that she was so completely his, and not just because of a wedding ring. And not even because of a child.
No, they were bound together by something stronger. Something primal.
Love. The real thing. The deepest, purest kind. And passion, too.
Together, they made a damn potent combination.
He grinned, thinking once again how lucky he was.
Beside him, Sylvia stretched. "Amazing." She practically purred, and the pleasure he took from seeing her satisfaction was just as powerful as if he'd orgasmed himself. "I'm completely limp. I think you destroyed me."
He chuckled. "Just so long as the destruction doesn't last."
"Mmm." She scooted closer, then bit her lower lip as she reached down to stroke his cock. He stiffened, and she looked up at him, her lids heavy. "Do you want--"
He hushed her with a gentle kiss. "I want to curl up next to my wife. I want to feel the press of your body against mine. And I want to hold you close while you fall asleep."
He could tell she wanted to protest on principle, but the exhaustion in her eyes stopped the words from coming. With a yawn, she rolled over, groaning a little as she moved with far less grace than usual. He didn't mention that, though. While he might be amazed and awed by every change in her, some things he'd learned to just keep quiet about.
After a moment, she was settled against the huge pillow she'd been using since about her fifth month.
He eased closer, spooning against her back. "I didn't read to him tonight." He'd been reading Alice in Wonderland.
"Tomorrow," she said. "I think he's sleeping, anyway."
"You should, too."
Her answer was barely even a mumble. And as he rested his hand on her belly and thought about the small life within, the mother of his children fell asleep in his arms.
Chapter Four
++
"Do you need me at the meeting on Monday?" Jackson asks Damien as we walk along the beach. I'm a few feet behind, walking silently beside Nikki, Cass, and Siobhan while they talk about the mobile app Nikki's designing for Cass's tattoo studio. The others had started out walking with us, but have either turned around or hung back to walk more slowly in the surf.
"Not necessary. We're not talking about the retail idea. Dallas said he wants to pitch me some new tech project," Damien adds, referring to Dallas Sykes, one of the resort's investors. He's one of the two heirs to the Sykes Department Store fortune and a rather notorious playboy. And the idea of him pitching a tech project just doesn't quite match my vision of the man who so often ends up on the wrong side of tabloid gossip.
Still, I'm glad Damien doesn't need Jackson at the meeting. We've planned to stay an extra day so that Ronnie can get more beach time, although I'm happy to have a day to do nothing but relax. Maybe it's the stress of getting to the island, or maybe it's too much fun at the shower last night--or with Jackson afterwards--but I haven't felt like myself all day. I'm draggy and a little nauseous and crampy. It's probably nothing--or just another lovely symptom that goes with pregnancy--but whatever the cause, I'm looking forward to pampering myself tomorrow with a day of total relaxation.
At least I'll be relaxing. I look ahead to where Ronnie's playing in the surf, racing back and forth to beat the waves up onto the sand, and can't help but be amazed by the fact that she's been going non-stop since we left the house.
As I watch, she stumbles and lands hard on her bottom. I immediately clutch my stomach, preparing to haul my girth over to her and make sure she's okay, but she just laughs and wiggles her toes in the incoming waves.
"Mommy! Look! I'm wet!"
I flash a grin toward Jackson as I walk at a more reasonable pace to her, already a little out of breath. "You certainly are. Wet and sandy."
"Can we build a castle? Pretty please?"
"That's your daddy's milieu," I say, the word making her frown. "I just mean that he designs and builds things."
She nods sagely. "He built this island."
I bite back my smile. "Well, the buildings on it, anyway." I hold out my hand for Jackson as he joins us. "Up for building a castle for your princess?"
"I don't see why not." And because he's an incredible father, he sits down in the wet sand without even thinking twice. "You guys go on ahead," he says to Damien. "Looks like I've been conscripted."
"Fair enough," Damien says. "An early dinner before the rest of us leave?"
Jackson nods. "We'll be there. Showered and sand free." He ruffles Ronnie's hair. "Including this one."
"Bye, Uncle Damien! Bye, Aunt Nikki!"
"See you later, sweetheart," Nikki says, then blows her a kiss before continuing down the beach with Damien, Cass, and Siobhan.
Almost immediately, Ronnie leaps to her feet. "The water, Daddy! Wanna play in the water!"
"I thought you wanted to build a castle."
She nods vigorously. Apparently, the kid wants to do everything.
Jackson looks at me, helpless in the face of his daughter's wide eyes and bright smile. "What do you say? Want to play in the surf?"
I shake my head. "I'm going to sit here and watch her wear you out."
"Fair enough." He pulls me in for a kiss, which I enthusiastically return. Then, while he and Ronnie head into the water, I move slightly further down the beach to one of the free lounge chairs with a shade umbrella beside it.
I lay down and close my eyes, and the next thing I know Jackson is standing right over me.
"What?" I blink, confused. "I thought you were going to play in the surf with Ronnie."
His brow furrows. "Baby, it's been three hours."
My eyes fly open and I struggle to sit up. Jackson reaches down to help me, and I cling to him, both grateful and confused. "But--"
"Are you feeling okay?"
The concern is evident in his voice, and I rush to reassure him. "Just tired. I don't think I'm sleeping well. Your child has a tendency to kick, and it's ha
rd to get comfortable. But I'm fine." I hold onto him as I stand up, and then almost fall when my knees go weak.
I manage a thin laugh. "Fine and slightly lightheaded."
"We're going back to the cabana and calling the doctor."
"She's going to tell me to eat something. I only had that smoothie for breakfast, and apparently that was a very long time ago." Early in my pregnancy I was consistently lightheaded, so he knows as well as I do that I just need to get some food in me.
"Then let's get you fed," he says, then calls Ronnie in from the water. She's having far too good a time, though, and begs for another hour. And when Jackson refuses, her mood shifts from pleasant to pouty.
"I can walk back myself," I tell him. "You can stay with her."
He shakes his head. "No. Both my girls need food and sleep. I'll call Damien and tell him we're eating at home."
Since I'm not in the mood for company, I don't argue. And when we get back, Jackson makes us both sandwiches and fruit, then tucks me on the couch with the television remote. "I'm going to go down to the dock and say goodbye. You're staying."
His tone makes it clear that there will be absolutely no argument. Normally, I'd argue anyway, but the fact is that I really am exhausted, and so I willingly agree.
"How about you?" he asks Ronnie. "Stay with Mommy or come with me?"
Since she's still annoyed with her dad for pulling her away from the surf, she climbs onto the couch and snuggles next to me. "Stay."
"Okay then." He ignores her mood, gives her a kiss, and then gives me a much more intimate one. "Back in thirty minutes."
"We're fine," I say. "Go. Tell everyone thanks again for me."
As soon as the door shuts behind him, I lift the remote to turn on the TV, but Ronnie's words stop me.
"Does the baby make you tired?"
I set the remote aside and consider the question. "Well, it's growing inside me. That means that my body has to work hard. So, yeah, in a way I guess the baby does make me tired."
She nods as if considering my answer.
"Do I make you tired, too? Is that why we came back?"
"Oh, no, sweetie. You don't make me tired. But I have to take care of myself for your little brother or sister. That's why your daddy wanted us to come back. To make sure I'm well and the baby's well."
"Am I well?"
"You're perfect."
I expect a smile, but instead I get a frown.
"Ronnie? Sweetheart, what's wrong?"
Her eyes dart to my belly. "Will you love it more?"
The question turns me cold. I know what it's like not to feel loved. To feel like the extraneous child. "No." I push the word out with all the force I can manage. "Absolutely not. I love you, Veronica, and I will always love you. Just like I'll always love the baby."
"But it's in your tummy. I wasn't ever in your tummy. So you have to love it more."
I force myself not to blink, because I cannot cry in front of her. "Sweetie, no. No, that's not the way it works. I'm your mommy, and it doesn't matter that you weren't in my tummy. You're in my heart," I say, putting her hand over my chest. "You're in my heart, and I love you."
For a moment, she just sits there. Then she nods and snuggles close. I put my arm around her and exhale, wishing that Jackson were here to help me. To tell me that I did okay. That Ronnie's okay.
Is she okay?
After all, I know better than anyone how much fear and doubt a child can hide under the surface.
But what I don't know is how to make it all go away.
Chapter Five
++
"Morning, sweetheart." As Sylvia sat up in bed, Jackson came in and put the tray over her. Toast and scrambled eggs since that seemed like an easy meal for breakfast in bed. Along with orange juice in a flute, which Sylvia liked to call a pregnant woman's mimosa.
"Morning? It's almost eleven. I can't believe you let me sleep so long."
"You were tossing and turning. I figured you could use a few extra hours." Honestly, he was surprised she got any sleep at all. She looked beautiful pregnant, but he knew she was getting damned uncomfortable.
"So just extra rest? This isn't part of a master plan to over-pamper me?"
"Is there such a thing?"
She tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm starting to think so. And you need to stop worrying. I've felt fine since Sunday evening on the island. It's Tuesday morning now. I've done nothing but eat and bask and relax for thirty-six hours. You're spoiling me rotten."
She was right, of course. But the truth was he enjoyed pampering her. "You have a problem with that?"
"Absolutely not." She finished her orange juice, then held out the glass. "More please."
He laughed, then left to get the carton. "Anything else, madam?" he asked when he returned and refilled her glass.
"I could use a kiss."
"Funny. So could I."
He put the orange juice on the side table, then bent over to brush his lips over his wife's. He'd intended a chaste kiss, but her lips parted, so soft and tempting that he had to taste her. And when she reached up and thrust her fingers in his hair and pulled him down, he felt himself grow hard. "I should cancel my conference call," he said when they broke the kiss, both breathing hard.
She shook her head. "For that project in DC? The hell you will." She took his hand, twining her fingers through his.
"What if you need me?"
"One, your office is attached to the house, so it's not like I'd have to go far to find you. And two, I'm fine, remember? Now you're just making excuses for sex."
"Trust me. I don't need any excuses for sex."
She laughed. "Good point. In that case, you can come right back and find me after the call."
"With incentive like that, it'll be a very short call."
"Good. It should be. After all, you're Jackson Steele. What else do they possibly need to know before they hire you?"
"I like the way you think. So what are you going to do while I'm off impressing the Washington elite?"
"I think I'll set Ronnie up on one side of the kitchen table with her Play-Doh and me at the other and try to plow through all the emails that have built up over the last few days. I have a lot to take care of before I go on maternity leave." She bit her lower lip. "We're so close, Jackson. Can you believe it?"
Honestly, he could barely get his head around the thought. Soon there'd be a baby in the house. Their baby. "No," he said as he rubbed her stomach, imagining his son or daughter. "I really can't." He drew in a breath, then took her hand and held tight. "Two kids and a wife I adore. I don't know how the hell I got so lucky, but I know one thing. I wouldn't trade a single moment. Not for anything."
"I'm hungry, Mommy."
"What?" I'm preoccupied with a chain of emails between the city and my team about the placement of a sewer line on a Stark property outside of Palm Springs. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't hear you."
"I'm hungry," she repeats as I look into her wide eyes from over the screen of my laptop.
"Okay, just give me two more minutes and I'll get you something."
"Hungry now."
"Veronica Steele, you just ate a whole bowl of strawberries less than half an hour ago. You can wait until I finish this." I keep my voice level and reasonable despite the fact that my head is throbbing from staring at crisis-filled emails for the last hour.
Her lower lip protrudes in a full-on pout that, even despite my headache, is pretty darn cute. Naturally, it takes all my effort to remain stern.
I turn back to my email, then hear the scrape of the chair as she gets down, goes to the water dispenser and fills a cup. She's behind me now, but I hear her step into the pantry, too, and assume we're out of napkins and she's gone in to get some.
When she returns to the table, I realize that I'm wrong. She has her water in one hand and a Chips Ahoy cookie in the other.
"Ronnie . . ."
"Hungry. I said I was."
"And I said I'd get you something to eat in two minutes. You can wait two minutes."
The lip pokes out again, and this time it's not so cute.
"I bet you won't make the baby wait."
My shoulders sag. "Oh, sweetie, come here."
She hesitates, then shuffles her feet forward. She's not paying enough attention though, and she runs into the table, and her water glass goes flying. And, dammit, I'm too ungainly to do anything about it. I can only awkwardly shove back from the table as water spills right on my computer keyboard.
"Ronnie!" I shout, not meaning to raise my voice, but I'm surprised and irritated and--I realize with some dismay--covered in spilled water along with my computer.
I look over and see the tears welling in her eyes and feel like an absolute bitch from hell. A bitch who certainly doesn't deserve to be a mom. "Oh, baby. I'm so sorry. You just startled me. I didn't mean to yell."
"I knew you liked the baby in your tummy better than me."
Her words slash through me, and I hear myself saying no, no, as I reach for her. But she's gone, even her short legs too swift for me these days. The back door slams, and I lean over my destroyed laptop just long enough to mentally award myself the Worst Mother of the Year award.
Then I head toward the backyard, too.
I half consider getting Jackson, but I know this call is important, and they must be making progress since he's been on the phone for so long. Besides, this one is on me. I stroke my belly. "I can do this, can't I, sport?"
As if in response, the baby gives a gentle kick, as I hurry outside after Ronnie.
She's not hard to find. The yard is large, but only by Los Angeles standards. She's on the swing set that Jackson intends to replace with the massive playscape he's designing. One that can grow with the kids, even turning into a workout station when they're older.
I settle into the swing beside her, feeling more than a little precarious. But with my feet on the ground, I figure I'm okay. For a minute or two we just sit there saying nothing. Finally, I speak, but I look straight ahead, not at the little girl on a swing beside me. "Do you know I love Daddy?"
"Uh-huh."
"But I yell at him sometimes." I think back to some of the knock-down drag out fights I've had with Jackson. And then I smile when I think about making up.