COLE (Dragon Security Book 1)

by Glenna Sinclair

  I bit his lip. Even now I wanted to laugh at the memory of the shock on his face. I don’t think anyone had ever denied him in that way before.

  Not that my resistance lasted long. The moment he came to retrieve me—the babies—I jumped most willingly into bed with him. And again and again after he brought me to Los Angeles. In fact, I was in his arms not more than fifteen minutes before we argued and I went into labor on Thanksgiving Day.

  It killed me when we argued. And it hurt every time he came to see me, but refused to speak to me. But then, when I went into labor in the middle of the night, he was there. Why was he there? Was he there every night? I remember a nurse mentioning once that he never asked for a blanket. I hadn’t thought to ask then what she was talking about. But now…did he spend most nights there? If so, why did he never wake me? Why didn’t he tell me?

  And now. He wanted me to stay for six months. For the babies.

  Was it wrong of me to hope there was a little more to it than that? To hope that he wanted me to stay because he cared about me?

  Did I want to stay for him?

  I’d been so focused on the babies, on the idea of never seeing them again. But was there more to my motivation, too?

  I loved the way it felt when he touched me. I loved lying with him in his bed. I loved…hell, there wasn’t anything about it I didn’t like. But did that mean I was in love with him?

  Was I in love with Nicolas Costa?

  Chapter 28

  “Okay, Cole, let’s see if we can do this.”

  I touched the baby’s cheek, and he immediately turned his head toward my finger. That was a good sign. The nurse said they’d delayed his afternoon feeding because they knew I was coming. He was clearly hungry. The only question was, would that translate into him latching on and nursing as he should?

  I set him in my lap and opened my blouse, tugging my breast out of my bra. Three weeks we’d been doing this, and for three weeks Cole did little more than gum at my nipple. The nurse said that was normal, that a preemie didn’t always understand the connection between suckling and nourishment, especially when he was used to getting his fill through a tube run down his throat. Cole was doing well otherwise, gaining weight and passing all the standards the doctors set for him. He just had to learn how to nurse so that he could go home.

  I really wanted to take him home. And I knew Nicolas did, too.

  I lifted the baby into my arms and rubbed my nipple against his lips. He opened his mouth, but like all the times before, he just kind of gummed at it. A little milk came out, anyway, since my breasts seemed always ready to explode—but it didn’t encourage him to suck.

  Frustration welled in my chest as I whispered to him. “Come on, Cole, just try.”

  But he just kept gumming.

  I felt like a failure. Wasn’t this supposed to be one of those things that just came naturally? Shouldn’t I just know, instinctively, how to do this? Why was he having so much trouble figuring it out?

  There was a tap on the door. I thought it was the nurse, coming to take Cole back to his isolette. I was only supposed to have him in this little room for a few minutes. They worried he’d get too cold being out of his isolette. I wasn’t ready to give him up, so I pretended I didn’t hear the tap as I bent to kiss the top of Cole’s warm, sweet, little head.

  “Everything okay?”

  It was Nicolas. I’d last seen him holding Vivienne in what they called a kangaroo hold where he unbuttoned his shirt and placed the baby’s bare skin against his. I must have been incredibly insane because I found the scene intensely sexy. How someone could find a man holding his child sexy, I don’t know. But I did. And now I felt weird about it.

  That, coupled with my frustrations, just broke a dam. I started to cry, big teardrops dripping on the baby’s cheek.

  “Hey,” Nicolas said, closing the door and coming to sit beside me on the tiny loveseat. “What’s the matter?”

  “I can’t do this,” I mumbled. “He won’t take to it. And if he doesn’t, he’ll never be allowed to come home. And if I can’t figure out how to do it with him, how will I ever do it with Vivienne? And she needs this so much more than Cole, and I just—”

  “Slow down,” Nicolas said, as he slid his arm around me. “One thing at a time.”

  “He won’t nurse. I don’t know why.”

  “Are you doing everything the lactation consultant told you to do?”

  “I think so.”

  “Do you mind if I try?”

  I glanced at him, a comical image of him trying to get the baby to nurse from his small nipples filling my mind. If I hadn’t felt so desolate, I might have laughed. Instead, I just shrugged.

  Nicolas ran his hand over the back of the baby’s head, caressing him with such gentleness that it almost broke my heart. He was so good with the babies. At first, it seemed like he favored Cole. I thought maybe it was because he was a boy. But then, after we gave Vivienne a name and the doctors began to offer encouraging news about her progress, he began spending as much time studying her through the walls of her covered isolette, the first to hold her and the first to try the kangaroo hold. He was clearly devoted to both babies, and that eased the few remaining doubts I’d had.

  Not that the opinion of the surrogate had any weight.

  Nicolas held the back of the baby’s head to keep him close to my breast. Then, he touched me, lifting my breast a little, squeezing my areola between two fingers to encourage more of it into Cole’s mouth. The baby’s eyes widened as he took it, suddenly sucking down with a force that took my breath away.

  “That’s my boy,” Nicolas said with a little bit of chuckle.

  “He’s doing it.”

  “He is.”

  I glanced at him, his smile irresistible.

  “Thank you.”

  He shrugged even as he leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Anytime,” he whispered against me.

  Cole came home two days later.

  Nicolas made a big deal of taking pictures as I carefully carried the baby up the front steps of the house. I was scared to death of dropping him on the marble steps, but I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face. The moment we were through the front door, Nicolas swept Cole from my arms.

  “Welcome home, my boy,” he said, swinging around so that the sleeping baby could take in everything. I don’t think Cole cared much. He nursed right before we left the hospital, so he was good for a few hours. Eating, sleeping, clean diapers…that was about all Cole cared about at this point.

  Adam and Constance joined us in the living room, big smiles on their faces. Constance fussed over Cole like he was the first baby she’d ever seen. I couldn’t help the pride I felt as I watched.

  “This deserves a toast!”

  Nicolas brought a bottle into the room that was nicely chilled if the bit of frost on it said anything. He poured four glasses and brought two to where I was standing by the back doors, whispering against my ear, “Apple cider.”

  I smiled, touched that he would make such a concession for me—especially when he raised his glass and announced, “I’m sure it’ll be all over the news later, but I wanted to be the first to tell all of you. My lawyers called this morning.”

  Constance looked up from where she was staring into Cole’s face, making funny little cooing sounds. There was a sudden tightness to her eyes that annoyed me. I knew Constance well enough to know her expressions. And I knew this expression was one that said whatever Nicolas was about to announce was wrong.

  But Adam…he was beaming like all was perfect in the world.

  “The waiter in New York who swears he saw me put something in Aurora’s glass?” Nicolas looked at me, his eyes actually twinkling. “He recanted his story. Now he insists that Aurora took the pills quite willingly the second I left the room.”

  “You’re kidding!” I said, turning into him. “I knew he was lying.”

  “He was lying. He has a record a mile long, and he was trying to make a deal in another
case against him. But when the DA failed to keep up his end of the deal in this other case, the guy changed his story.”

  “So they have to drop charges against you now.”

  “They have.”

  Relief washed through me in wave after wave of pure emotion. I laughed as I threw my arms around Nicolas’ neck.

  “That’s incredible!”

  Nicolas’ arms came around my waist, and he tugged me so tight against him that the familiar feel of his body woke something deep inside of me that had gone dormant during my time in the hospital. However, it also made me conscious of my soft, flabby stomach. I took a step back, but Nicolas’ arm tightened around my waist.

  He studied my face for a long second, clouds of emotion floating through his eyes. Spontaneously, I reached up and kissed him lightly on his lips.

  I don’t know what got into me, or if it was even something I should have done. But when he tugged me closer to him and deepened the kiss, I was grateful that being near him made me forget my fears and act on whims like that.

  He let me go a moment later, and I caught Constance watching us. Disapproval radiated from her eyes. I withered under her gaze, the wonder and excitement of Nicolas’ kiss dying on my lips.

  “I should take Cole upstairs,” I said, slipping him from her arms and leaving the room, my heart pounding as if I’d just got caught drinking wine behind the rectory or something.

  I didn’t understand Constance’s problem with Nicolas. But I planned to find out.

  Chapter 29

  Everything was all fun and games in the middle of the afternoon when I was well rested. It wasn’t as much fun at three o’clock in the morning when Cole seemed incapable of getting his fill at my breast.

  I was sitting with him in the rocking chair in the nursery—Nicolas finished the nursery and it was just as light and beautiful as he had promised it would be—the breast pump attached to my other breast to simulate the action of nursing two babies. Vivienne was still too tiny to nurse, but they used my breast milk to feed her through her feeding tube. And, hopefully, she would be home in another week or two, so I would have to be used to feeding two babies at once.

  But that didn’t make this all fun and games in the middle of the night.

  “You should have woke me,” Nicolas said, slipping into the room.

  “No reason for both of us to be exhausted.”

  “But there is. It took more than just one person to make this perfect little boy,” he said, running his hand slowly over Cole’s head.

  “Yeah, it took four,” I said, so exhausted I wasn’t really thinking about what I was saying.

  Nicolas laughed.

  It was a little surreal, sitting there with my t-shirt pulled up over my breasts, revealing not only both breasts—one with a baby attached, the other with a machine—but my stretchmark-covered, flabby belly sticking out above my boy shorts. He seemed to only have eyes for the baby at the moment, and I was too exhausted to really care what else he might see. I’d been using the treadmill in his home gym upstairs since coming home from the hospital, failing miserably at reaching the four miles per hour I was once able to jog. But with Cole home, there didn’t seem to be time to do more than eat and sleep on his schedule. So, personal fitness was once again on the back burner.

  I closed my eyes and must have drifted to sleep because the next thing I knew, Nicolas was carefully disconnecting the breast pump.

  “Do you put this in the bags right away?”

  I nodded, gesturing to the stack of disposable bottle bags that were sitting on top of the mini-fridge. Nicolas unscrewed the top from the pump’s bottle and poured the milk into a bag before tying it off and putting it inside the fridge with three other bags I’d pumped throughout the day. Either he or Adam would take it to the hospital in the morning for Vivienne.

  “Dr. Farley said you can probably try to nurse Vivienne next week,” Nicolas said.

  “Really? Are her lungs strong enough for that?”

  “He said she will probably continue to need oxygen for a while after she’s released, but he wants her to come home as soon as possible, and that means she has to be nursing at least part of the time.”

  Cole was finally drifting off to sleep. I stroked his check gently before tugging my nipple from his mouth. He stayed asleep, so I carried him to the crib, unconscious of the fact that my t-shirt was still tugged up above my chest.

  “Do you think she’s ready?”

  Nicolas leaned against the mini-fridge and studied me, his eyes slowly drifting down the length of my body. He cleared his throat, his eyes dropping to the floor.

  “Do I…what?”

  “Do you think Vivienne’s ready to come home?”

  “I want her to, and the doctor thinks she’s ready.”

  “I just don’t want to push things. If she’s not ready, it would just make her situation worse, won’t it?”

  Nicolas glanced at me again, his eyes again drifting over the length of my body. “You make it kind of hard to concentrate, you know?”

  I looked down at myself, a blush burning my cheeks as I realized just how exposed I was. I tugged my shirt down, smoothing it over my smaller, but still disgustingly soft, belly. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t ever apologize. I definitely don’t mind the peek. But it makes it hard to think of anything other than your beautiful body.”

  “Beautiful? More like monstrous.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  I ran my hand over my belly. “Because it is.”

  I turned to the baby’s crib and tucked a light blanket over him before retreating across the room, unable to look at Nicolas, even though I could feel his eyes on me. He followed, stepping out into the hall with me. I turned to go to my room, but he grabbed my wrist.

  “You are an incredibly beautiful woman, Ana,” he said softly, the back of his fingers brushing my face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman quite like you.”

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  Nicolas lifted my chin, forced me to look him in the eye. “Do I look like I’m lying?”

  “You work with Hollywood actresses. You dated models. How could I compare to them?” I pulled back. “Especially now? I’m just a kindergarten teacher with a grotesquely out of shape body.”

  “You are an amazingly beautiful woman who just gave birth to twins.” He tugged me closer to him. “And you are obstinate and frustrating and clever and funny and everything I’ve ever desired in a woman.”

  I shook my head, tears welling in my eyes. “You’re just…”

  “I’m just what?”

  “You feel sorry for me.”

  Nicolas groaned. “Why would I feel sorry for you?”

  “Because of everything that’s happened. Because I cry at the drop of a hat. Because my mother died and I don’t have anyone but the babies and Constance…”

  “And me.”

  He pushed me against the wall and slid his hand over my face, burying his fingers in my hair, tugging it to force me to look at him. And then he kissed me. There was nothing friendly in his kiss. He invaded me like a drowning man assaulting the first object to come close to his touch. I had no choice but to welcome him, to respond to his touch or drown myself. But I couldn’t have resisted him if I’d wanted to. He tasted so familiar, felt so familiar, that my lips, my mouth and tongue, seemed to respond to him on pure instinct.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer, needing him against me, needing to feel the heat and the vitality of his touch. He was bringing me back to life, bringing me back to the person I was before everything went insane. Before my mother died, before Aurora died, before I knew I was pregnant. Before I met Nicolas. He was bringing me back to the person who believed that the world was basically good and happiness was just around the next corner.

  Nicolas ran his hand over my side, his fingers seeking out the bottom hem of my shirt. His mouth created a hot trail down my chin, along the curve of my jaw until his lips were
pressed to my throat.

  “I want you,” he whispered against my ear. “I want to touch you, for you to touch me.”

  I moaned, even as his hand found its way under my shirt and he began to run his fingers over my belly. I pushed at his wrist, trying to keep him from seeing just how soft my belly was, but he tugged his wrist free, his hand sliding low over my belly as he stared into my eyes.

  “Why can’t you believe me?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he dropped to his knees and lifted my shirt, pressing his lips to the center of my belly. I slid my hands over the top of his head, but I didn’t try to push him away again. It killed me not to, but I let him explore my belly, let him run his tongue slowly over the bright red stretch marks that were still healing. He slid slowly down my belly, his tongue dipping into my navel before sliding further down. When he found my surgical scar, a blush hotter than any I’d ever known before burned my cheeks, but I didn’t pull away—and he didn’t hesitate. He ran his tongue along the length of it, then peppered it with kisses. Then he stood again and drew me into his arms.

  “How can I dislike the body that made my children?”

  And then he kissed me again. I melted into him, more eager than I probably should have been to feel his touch. He swung me into his arms and carried me down the hall, shoving through his door and slamming it with his foot hard enough to make the walls vibrate. And then we fell together onto the bed, the weight of his body knocking the air from my lungs. But I didn’t care. I drew my breath from him, regulated my heart beat from the feel of his. I wanted him in a way I’d never thought possible; I wanted him with more than just my body and my mind.