by Nalini Singh
Even if she found success in another arena, it would never be the thing her life revolved around. Caleb and her child would occupy that place. It was simply the way she was built. Perhaps because she'd never really had a family, her own small one meant everything to her. But her devotion also meant that each time Caleb put the firm above her, she felt it like a kick to the gut.
"Vicki, I don't know how to be a good father." It was a blunt statement, raw to the core.
Heart in her throat, she smiled. "And I don't know how to be a good mother." So far, she hadn't even done such a great job of being a good wife. "But I know one thing—as long as our child knows we'll always be there for her, she'll be okay."
That was a lesson Vicki had gleaned from the mockery that had been her childhood. All the other hurts would have been nothing if she'd known that she could run to her parents for comfort. "I know neither of us has great role models to follow but this is us, not anyone else. We can create the life we want for our baby." She had to believe that. Otherwise, her fear of messing up their child's life might just cripple her.
They didn't speak about the topic again, but when Caleb left to go back to the office, she saw the concentration on his face. He was thinking over what she'd said. She only hoped he wouldn't disregard it. A wife might be able to accept and understand, but a child's heart was much more fragile.
* * *
Caleb put down the phone after the last conference call with London and swiveled in his executive chair to stare out at the city lights. Silence reigned in a place that was usually buzzing with organized confusion. This particular deal was done. He'd sent his staff home two hours ago, confident he could tie up the loose ends.
It was a good thing tomorrow was Saturday. After the Donner crisis and then the problems today, everyone had been run ragged. Including him. As he looked out from his high-rise office to the beautiful lights segueing into the darkness of the sea, Vicki's words returned to haunt him.
Absentee father.
It was a term that applied to too many of the CEOs and lawyers he knew. Their children grew up under a loving mother's care if they were lucky, or under an indifferent nanny's if they weren't. Without their parents' guidance, he'd seen several of his acquaintances' children go off the rails.
Did he want his and Vicki's kids to turn to him one day and deny him any say in their lives because he'd never been there for them? No. He wanted the right to support their children, to help them grow, to provide encouragement and love. And he was intelligent enough to know he had to earn that right.
His sons or daughters would only respect what he had to say if he treated them as individuals worth making time for. Caleb knew that better than anyone. After the way his own father had treated him during his childhood, Caleb had never allowed Max any input into how he lived his life. Max had thrown away that right when he'd continually punished an innocent child for a mistake that had been made long before Caleb was born.
Vicki was right. Coming home for dinner would hardly be enough to nurture their children's love, to teach them their worth. He needed to be there for breakfast and dinner not only sometimes, but most of the time. He needed to drive his kids to school occasionally, to be around for sports games and school plays, for excited narrations of the day and even grumpy tantrums.
I know you're busy so thank you for taking time out for me.
The seemingly unrelated comment popped into his head, startling him. His wife had thanked him for making time for her. That seemed wrong. Following that thought, he found the link. So obvious. If occasional dinners at home wouldn't be enough for a child, how could they possibly be enough for a wife?
Unlike their child, or children, who'd have both a mother and a father, Vicki had no other husband to pick up the slack of Caleb's absence. If he didn't give her what she needed, no one would.
Even now, so soon after she'd begun to heal the sexual hurts between them, he'd let work get in the way of their journey. He'd pushed aside the importance of the steps they'd taken to find true intimacy and perhaps irreparably damaged the fragile trust that had grown the night he'd surrendered to her touch.
Picking up the photo of Vicki that sat on his desk, he ran his fingers over her laughing face. Jeans rolled up and hair tangled by the wind, she was standing ankle-deep in sand, looking mussed and happy enough to break his heart. It was his favorite picture of her … and it had been taken almost four years ago. His wife had stopped laughing long ago. And he hadn't been around enough to hear her silence.
Was it any wonder she'd wanted to divorce him? Sure, he'd been unhappy in their marriage, thinking that his wife didn't want him. As their marriage had crumbled, so had his dream—of a life with a wife who loved him absolutely, of a family as full of joy as his childhood one had been full of pain.
Then had come that business trip to Wellington four months ago when everything had shattered. The emotional destruction had been so bad that no matter how hard he'd tried, he hadn't been able to glue all the pieces back together.
But despite all that, he'd never felt abandoned the way Vicki must have. He'd always known that she was at home, waiting for him. That when he went to bed, his wife would be right there beside him, giving him another chance to repair the fissures in their relationship.
How many nights had Vicki slipped into a cold bed, aware that her husband wouldn't be home for hours yet? How many nights had she woken from a nightmare to find herself alone and without comfort? His gut twisted. Whatever the state of their marriage, he'd always been proud of the fact that he'd protected his wife and kept her safe from harm.
What rubbish!
He might have never raised a hand to her but there were other ways of causing pain and he'd been guilty of most of them. Every day and night that he hadn't been there when she'd needed him, he'd hurt her. And as for keeping her safe? What did Vicki do at night when storms blew the fuses? He'd never come home to find her waiting for him to fix things, hadn't even thought about it before now. But the answer was clear. She'd gone outside to the old-fashioned fuse box of their villa and done it herself.
What else did she do that he didn't know about? What else had she learned not to rely on him for? It was no longer enough that she'd agreed not to leave him, not when he'd glimpsed the fire she'd tried to contain her entire lifetime.
He was fascinated by the woman she'd revealed and he needed her, all of her. It was just starting to dawn on him that maybe more had been lost in those five years than Victoria's girlhood innocence.
* * *
Vicki woke the second Caleb slipped into bed beside her. She never really slept deeply until he was home, worrying about him on a subconscious level. Smiling, she snuggled into his warm body and started to drift back to sleep. She was aware that he was holding her tight, that there was something different about the intent in his body but she was too sleepy to figure out what.
"Vicki?" Kisses fell on her neck.
They felt so good that she cuddled closer. "Hmm?"
A big hand smoothed up her leg, bare under the rugby jersey she'd commandeered again. She shivered and the shadows of sleep started to fade. "Caleb?"
He answered by sliding that hand up her body until he cupped her breast. With a gasp, she came wide awake, belatedly aware that Caleb was naked beside her, his arousal pressed against her hip. Her first reaction was to freeze, to try to analyze what he was doing to her, to attempt to manage her reaction.
As if he knew exactly what was going through her mind, he whispered, "Do what you did last time."
Any hope of control evaporated at that request. She moved to run her hand down his body. Before she could, he tugged at the jersey and she raised her arms. A second later, he'd thrown the jersey aside and she was pressed against his heated skin, her fine-lace panties the only barrier between them.
"I can't touch you if you hold me like this," she whispered, acutely aware of the delicious roughness of his chest hair against her nipples, so sensitive these days.
"Why don't I have
a turn instead?" He bit gently at her lower lip. Stroking his hand down her body, he lifted one leg and put it over his hip, leaving her scandalously open.
Fear clawed at her. Not fear of his loving, but of her own reactions. What if she let him down again?
"Stop thinking." One hand lay flat on her back, while the other moved between them.
"I can't help it." She was excruciatingly aware of the direction his hand was heading in. A second later, he slipped under the waistband of her panties to cup her intimately. She stilled, shocked at the riot of emotion within her.
"Tell me what you feel."
It was too hard to think, speak and keep her body under control at the same time. She bit down on her lower lip, trying not to let her breathing turn ragged.
"You know what I feel?" Caleb asked, spreading his fingers and starting to stroke her most delicate flesh. "I feel you hot and wet against my fingers, so silky soft and welcoming. I feel your body crying out for mine."
* * *
Eight
« ^ »
Vicki's mind was a buzz of sensation and sound. Caleb had never talked to her so explicitly before. He'd hardly talked at all when they'd made love. To her shock, she found she loved hearing his husky words, loved discovering another layer to his sexuality. Without her being aware of it, her body had softened against his as she concentrated on what he was saying.
"I think these pretty breasts of yours have gotten bigger." He shifted, without removing his hand from between her legs, until she lay on her back with him on her left. Pulling out the arm he had under her head, he propped himself up. "I'm going to turn on the light."
"No," she whispered. "Caleb, I can't…"
"I just want to see if I'm right about your breasts, sweetheart." The soft light of the bedside lamp hit her eyes. She blinked rapidly.
When she focused again, her throat dried up as her eyes went to that hand, stroking her so languidly that she felt herself melting. It was the slowest of seductions and she was starting to lose herself to it.
"They are," he whispered, leaning down to flick his tongue across one nipple.
She whimpered.
"Aren't they?"
The words spilled out of her. "They've swollen some." He bit at the underside of her breast gently. "Does that hurt?"
"No." It felt good, so good. She wanted to ask him to do it again but she'd spent too much of her life remaining silent. A good child should be seen, not heard. A good wife should accede to her husband's requests but demand nothing herself.
"Do you want me to do it again?" he asked, holding out the temptation.
She fought back the voices of the past and reached for the promise of tomorrow. "Yes. Oh, yes."
He repeated the gesture on her other breast, murmuring, "I like the way you taste." Between her legs, his thumb found the small nub that could lead to exquisite pleasure. "What do you like? This?" He pressed his thumb hard. "Or this?" He rubbed his thumb in circles, then stopped. "You have to respond, honey." Slowly, he began to slide his hand out.
Desperate, she used one of her own hands to push him back down. Their eyes met and there was such sexual heat in his that she felt burned. Under her hand, he began to move again.
"This?" he asked again. "Or this?"
Their interlocking gaze was the most intimate thing she'd ever experienced. Running her tongue around a mouth gone dry, she nodded.
"Uh-uh." He shook his head. "You have to speak."
"Caleb," she begged.
"I promise you I'll like it." It was a lover's reassurance and a man's demand in one. "The way I liked it when you used your hands on me."
The words wouldn't come but she knew he wasn't going to go easy on her tonight. She had to ask for her pleasure. Instead of speaking, she moved her hand on his, showing him the movement that pleased her.
A slow smile spread across his face. "I'll allow that answer." Leaning down, he bit at her lip again. She arched up to further the kiss but he shook his head. "No kisses for you. You have to show me how you feel with the rest of your body. I promise I'll be endlessly patient."
She was dying, her breath coming out in pants. His fingers were driving her crazy. Taking her hand away from on top of his, she grabbed hold of one muscular arm. Her body was sheened in sweat but it was the heat in Caleb's eyes that she couldn't get enough of. He'd never looked at her this way in bed.
Tonight he was speaking to her with far more than his mouth. And she liked what she was hearing. She tried to kiss him again but he shook his head, staying frustratingly out of reach. Always before, she'd used her kiss to convey everything she felt but now she didn't have that outlet. Combined with the way he was touching her, it was pulling her remaining shreds of control to pieces. She dug her fingernails into his arms as her body arched toward him, seeking more.
One finger began to slide into her. "This?" His breath was hot against her ear. "Or this?" A second finger nudged at the swollen entrance to her body.
She pushed down against him, squeezing his body with the thigh she had thrown over his waist. He heard and rewarded her by pushing those two fingers deep into her again and again. She felt the edge of something beautiful on the horizon but he stopped before she could reach it.
"Caleb, please. Please." It was the first time in her life she'd begged for anything in bed. Part of her froze in shock at her own audacity, but the rest of her was too busy trying not to shatter as Caleb gave her exactly what she'd asked for.
Unable to kiss him, unable to release the wild sexuality riding her any other way, she screamed, her entire frame shaking with the shooting arcs of an orgasm so intense she thought she was going to black out.
She was barely aware of Caleb taking off her panties at last. When he rose up over her, she let him wrap her other leg around his waist. To her surprise, he didn't make any other move, waiting until she opened her eyes and focused on him.
His face was taut with sexual need but there was something very much like satisfaction in the curve of his mouth. "Time for round two."
Her eyes widened. She felt him nudge at her with his arousal but he didn't penetrate. Swallowing, she pushed her pelvis up, trying to entice him as she never had before. The tip of him lodged in her but despite her wordless plea, he wouldn't deepen the penetration.
"Not until you're with me."
Before she could say anything to that, he dipped his head to her nipple. The hard suction of his mouth sent sensation rocketing through every inch of her body. When he began to move his head away, she knew what she had to do. Caleb had taught her the rules of their very private game, given her the tools with which to fight her fear of doing something wrong.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she held him to her. He returned to his task with such obvious enjoyment it succeeded in destroying what little mind she had left. When he moved to her other breast, she felt her body buck upward. He pushed in another inch. And stopped.
Wanting to scream with the need to have him inside her, thick and hard, she ran the nails of her hands down his back. He jerked and raised his head, a red flush along his cheekbones. "You're not with me yet."
She wanted to beg for mercy but had a feeling Caleb wasn't going to give her any tonight. For the first time in almost five years, she had her wild lover back in bed with her, the one who'd always driven her half insane with need.
In the past, her own hunger had frightened her into silence, leading Caleb to leash his wild sexuality. But tonight the leash had been thrown aside and if she wanted to survive the ride, she had to let go and trust him to lead her over the edge.
When fear beckoned, she reminded herself of her decision—no more pretense, no more self-protection. Running her hand down one of his arms, she found his hand and brought it between their bodies to show him what she wanted. It was one of the hardest things she'd ever done but the payoff was the most exquisite pleasure. She felt the last thread of her control snap, throwing her into the dark hunger of their combined passion.
&nbs
p; As her back arched under the circling strokes of Caleb's hand, he began to push into her at last. After two months of deprivation, her body was tight, her flesh hungry. She felt every inch of him, hot, hard and finally, hers. When he began to move, his rhythm was fast and deep, shocking another scream out of her as she surrendered to the inescapable glory of the heat between them.
At that moment, he kissed her. Starved, she reacted like wildfire, giving herself up utterly to his loving. His spine went taut under her hands, his thighs locked and even as the flames licked at her, she felt him dive into the fire.
* * *
Vicki was smiling when she woke the next morning, her body deliciously sore but just as deliciously content. Snuggling into Caleb's arms, she'd started to drift back to sleep when her eyes registered the time. She sat straight up. "Caleb! Wake up, it's nine o'clock!" He absolutely hated being late.
Caleb pulled her back down and mumbled, "It's Saturday. Whole weekend off." She felt his body slip back into sleep.
Saturday? Yes, it was, she realized. Not that that had ever made much of a difference. Caleb always seemed to be at the office. She tried to think of the last time he'd taken off an entire weekend. She thought it might have been as far back as the four days they'd spent on Great Barrier two years ago.
A grin spread across her face. This meant Caleb was hers for two whole days! And she was free, too. The fund-raising documents had arrived last night and she'd read them over. Ideas were bubbling inside her but she didn't officially start till Monday.
Unwilling to move out from under her husband's possessive embrace, she lay there and let her brain think up all sorts of things they could do together. The most attractive involved staying in this house, maybe even in this bed, for the two days. She wanted to laugh at her own giddy excitement, feeling like a child let loose in a candy store.
Having Caleb to herself for any length of time was one of her secret dreams, something she'd never asked for because she knew how busy he was—just because she had too much time on her hands, didn't mean she had the right to demand he keep her entertained.