Her fire eyes were slumberous and full of want as she watched him. The blue darkened to cobalt, and her lashes fluttered down to rest on her cheeks. "I don't know, Cole."
"You're my wife, Rini. And I know you want me just as much as I want you. Sooner or later you're going to ask me to come to you in that big, lonely bed."
She swallowed. "I need time to think."
After a moment, he forced himself to let her go. Turning to the fireplace, he flicked a switch. The natural-gas logs burst into bright, colorful flames. "Okay. But you're still sleeping in my bed."
Silently, her eyes pleaded with him.
At that moment he was sure if he just swept her off her feet and carried her to that bed, she wouldn't fight him. Much. He could tell she wanted him, and he definitely wanted her. That was enough, wasn't it? After all, they were married now. For a few long seconds he was sorely tempted, but then reluctantly came to his senses.
"The room's bigger, and when the baby comes, you'll need space for the crib and what have you. I've moved my things to the spare room." He gave her an ironic look. "I'll sleep in your old bed. If nothing else, I can be surrounded by the smell of you."
Her mouth dropped open. "But—"
"You're down at the end." He gestured to the hallway. "Make yourself at home. I'm going to change my clothes."
With that, he had strolled down the hall to the guest room and gone in, carefully closing the door behind him.
Damn.
Gripping the arms of his easy chair now, he brought himself out of the frustrating memory. That had been just a few short hours ago, and since then he'd been the model of a perfect gentleman. But her simple statement still hung between them, coloring every look, every accidental brush of their hands.
I need time to think.
How much time was she talking, here? Minutes? Days? Months?
Until she graduated and could blow him off for good?
He opened his eyes to the totally unexpected sight of her standing in front of his chair. "Jeez!" He jumped up, papers flying, and narrowly missed catapulting the tray in her hands to the floor.
"Oh, my God!" She hastily put the tray on the ottoman and knelt to pick up his scattered papers. "Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you."
"Startle me? You scared the—" He halted and forced a grin. "Sorry. I'm just a little edgy tonight. Here, let me get those." He went down on his knees and started gathering the papers. She reached for one next to him, giving him a fine view of the upper curve of her breasts as they pressed against the fabric of the scoop-necked sweater she'd changed into earlier. He looked his fill. She caught him looking.
He winked, neatly straightening the stack of papers in his hands. "Hell, I'll take what I can get."
Coloring slightly, she handed him the papers in hers. "Are you hungry?"
He snagged her gaze with his and held on. "Oh, yeah."
"Good," she said, nibbling on her lip. "I, um, I made sandwiches. And banana bread."
He tore his eyes from her lips and looked hopefully at the tray. "Banana bread? How'd you know that's my favorite?"
"Lucky guess. Come on." Smiling, she patted the seat of his easy chair.
After she'd settled him comfortably with a turkey sandwich in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, she sat down on the floor beside him, leaning her back against the solid, straight side of the chair.
"Rini! What are you doing?" He started to get up. "You take the chair."
She grabbed the leg of his sweatpants and pulled him back down. "I like it on the floor. My back feels wonderful against your chair. It's at just the right angle."
He looked at her dubiously.
"Honest."
"We'll get you a chair tomorrow."
"Don't bother. I like it down here."
"Stubborn."
She batted her lashes.
The corner of his mouth twitched. "At least you could sit between my legs. Give me a thrill on my wedding night."
He almost choked on his sandwich when she said, "Okay," then scooted around and settled into the vee between his legs, pushing the ottoman to one side. She leaned back with her sandwich and mug, and the ends of her hair curled provocatively onto his lap. He stuffed his sandwich into his mouth to stifle a groan. Great idea, compadre. He thanked God for baggy sweatpants and prayed she didn't turn around anytime soon.
He'd just managed to relax when she looked over her shoulder. "Ready for your banana bread?"
"You bet."
She set aside his napkin and mug, broke off a piece of the bread and held it against his lips. "Open wide."
He blinked, his throat suddenly tightening. She was going to feed him.
She was sitting between his knees, her face practically in his lap, and she intended to feed him. Ho boy.
He opened wide.
She picked up another piece and waited while he finished the first one. He was having a hard time swallowing. "Aren't you going to have any?"
She hesitated, bit off half of the piece she was holding, then held up the rest for him. A low sound growled out of his throat. He grasped her wrist and drew her hand to his lips.
He watched her watching his mouth as he pulled the bit of bread into it, along with her fingers, working them with his tongue. She followed his Adam's apple as he swallowed, then let her gaze drift down his body, coming to a skittish halt at the juncture of his thighs. His erection strained against the soft fleece of his sweatpants, inches from her languorous eyes. They looked up at him, slumberous and heavy-lidded. The sweater dropped seductively off her shoulder, and he knew he was in big trouble.
He had to taste her.
Summoning the steeliest restraint that had ever been required of him, he gently lifted her face and bent low, angling himself to meet her lips. Softly, softly, he pressed a kiss to them.
Sweet. She tasted like bananas and coffee and chocolate wedding cake. His arousal throbbed, and he had to clutch the arm of the chair mercilessly to keep from ripping that silly drooping sweater down to her wrists.
She ran her hand through his hair and kissed him back, her mouth warm and pliant. "It's been a long day. I think I'd better put these dishes away and get to bed."
Bed. Sounded like an excellent plan. Maybe she should just skip the dishes part.
"No, you go ahead. It'll just take me a minute to clean up out here."
"Okay, thanks."
Emotions warring inside his chest, he watched her pad softly out of the living room. He wanted her. With the pent-up passion of an eight-month wait, he wanted to be inside her. But he'd made a promise, and he never broke his word.
Closing his eyes, he listened for several minutes to the sounds of the night. Outside, leaves swirled around the cement driveway, carried on a light breeze. A car drove by. His bed creaked invitingly down the hall, calling him to his wife's embrace.
Damn, it would be so easy to love that woman. He wondered if, perhaps, he hadn't already started to...?
Strangely, the prospect didn't alarm him. It seemed she genuinely cared for him, and she had told him she truly wanted their arrangement to work. Maybe Tanya was right and Rini was different from the others, and he could let down his guard. Maybe his heart would be safe with her, after all.
He smiled as he turned off the gas fire and watched it die. Mindlessly humming a Pueblo flute tune, he cleaned up the dishes, then strolled to the bathroom to get ready for bed.
A few minutes later, he took a last glance at himself in the mirror. The face that gazed back looked happier and more content than it had in years. Husband, father, and with any luck, lover.
He could do this. Rini would help him move on, help him leave the past far behind, along with all its hurts and disappointments. He had been right to choose her at the powwow. She wouldn't abandon him now. Not after today. How could she?
* * *
Rini had already unpacked all her things earlier, putting them away in the voluminous dresser Cole had emptied for her. So there was no way of st
alling any longer.
She approached his bed with a combination of arousal and trepidation. It was big. Very big. Acres of rustic wool Pendleton blanket covered forest-green sheets on a rich, honey-colored wooden bed frame. She leaned the heels of her hands on it, testing the mattress. The bed protested with a light squeak. She snatched her hands away, glancing guiltily at the door, hoping Cole hadn't heard.
Cole, her husband.
Shaking herself mentally, she picked up her nightgown, then looked down at the sweater and leggings she had changed into after taking a calming shower this afternoon. She didn't feel much more composed now than she had then. The tender kiss he'd just given her was as disturbing as his words about sharing his bed had been.
Lifting the cotton nightgown she'd laid out to her cheek, she indulged in a little fantasy about Cole coming into the room later and slowly stripping it off her.
Suddenly, she realized what she was doing, and tossed the gown back onto the bed. She really must banish these inappropriate thoughts. This marriage was a business proposition and nothing more. Despite Cole's loving kiss earlier, love was not on his agenda. He'd made that abundantly clear all through their wedding day.
On the other hand, it was hard to believe it was her less-than-hourglass figure prodding him into making these overtures. She wondered briefly what his motives were. Well, other than the obvious.
Quietly, she found the bathroom and made her preparations for bed. As she walked back to her room, she stretched. Her back had started to ache and she wished she had a hot water bottle to tuck behind her tonight.
"Is your back hurting again?"
"Oh!" She jumped, finding Cole standing right in front of her. "A little. I don't suppose you have a hot water bottle?"
"Sorry." He appeared to think for a second. "But I'll go you one better. How about a back rub? You said it helped before."
She shook her head, a bit too vigorously, vividly remembering exactly how good she had felt the last time he'd given her a massage. And not just her back, either. "Thanks, but no."
"Just a back rub, Rini. Let me do this for you. Call it a wedding present."
She reached for the wall behind her. "I, uh…" She faltered.
This was such a bad idea. A really bad idea. But it sure would be great to be able to fall asleep for once without that dull ache in her lower back.
Wanting his hands on her body had nothing to do with it. Nothing whatsoever.
He took a step closer. "I don't like to think of you hurting."
"Well…" She inhaled sharply when he slid an arm around her waist and began to knead her spine with his fingers. She struggled to form words. "Just a back rub?" For a split second, as she looked up into his eyes, she forgot completely that she wanted him to answer "yes."
He pulled her imperceptibly closer. "You have my word I won't even try to kiss you"—the corner of his mouth kicked up—"first."
A frisson of desire sparked down her spine. "First?"
"You're in charge. You lead, I follow."
How did he know that putting her in control of things would practically guarantee she'd be putty in his hands? "You play dirty, you know that, Counselor?" she whispered.
He gave her a roguish grin worthy of a Barbary Coast pirate. "You have no idea."
She cleared her throat, hoping the action would somehow clear the sensual fog clouding her brain, too. "You need your eyes checked, Cole. I'm eight months pregnant."
He slowly ran a thumb along her jaw. "And every bit as sexy as the day I got you that way."
She blinked several times, flustered, a warm pressure building behind her eyes. Hormones, she thought desperately—she even cried at milk commercials these days. She lowered her eyes and chewed her lip. "Now I know you need glasses."
He smiled at her tenderly and tipped her chin up. Their gazes locked. She expected to be kissed, but he didn't lower his mouth to hers.
"Going to make me wait, Rini?"
She swallowed. Right. She was in control. Swallowing again, she nodded, still uncertain of what she wanted to happen next. She nervously searched his face for a sign of anger or frustration, but found none. Instead, an amused grin formed on his lips.
"Okay, baby. I'm a very patient man." He stepped back and swept an arm toward the bedroom. "In the meantime, would you like to slip into something more comfortable?"
Now, there was the million-dollar question. She eyed him uncertainly. "Just how comfortable did you have in mind?"
He flashed that grin again. "Naked?"
She closed her eyes against the surge of raw desire that swept through her body. Moment of truth.
Was this what she wanted? More than anything. Should she consent? God, no. She'd be a fool to put herself through any more heartache because of this man. She opened her eyes. "I don't think this massage thing is a very good idea."
She started to back away, but he caught her fingers in his. "Joking aside, Rini. You've had to put up with so much during these months, all on your own. I want to help now. Even if it's just easing your sore muscles. Trust me. I'll be as good as you want me to be."
Sincerity was written on his every feature. She took a deep, cleansing breath. Why, oh, why was she so damned gullible?
"I trust you, Cole." She gave him a weak smile, and murmured, "It's me I'm not sure I can trust."
His brows rose along with the corners of his mouth. "Mmm. I do like the sound of that." At her withering glance he lifted a hand in mock surrender. "Kidding."
He started backing into her bedroom, pulling her gently with him. When she resisted, he cocked his head. "Coming?"
She cast a look down the hall, suddenly panicking. "Um, I think I— I, um, left my nightgown in the bathroom."
"Okay." He indicated her room. "I'll just wait in here."
She rushed back to the bathroom and closed the door, leaning against it. Oh, Lord. She wanted him like mad. She couldn't deny it. But she wondered again what his reasons were for wanting her.
When she couldn't delay any longer, she reluctantly returned to the bedroom. Pausing at the door, she caught her breath. Her old four-poster never looked quite so inviting as Cole's king-sized bed did at that moment. He had piled her mound of extra pillows onto it and was stretched out beside them, arms stacked under his head, eyes closed. Her nightgown hung tidily over the foot rail of the bed. His sensual lips were turned up at the corners—the smile of a buccaneer with treasure on his mind.
Rini's gaze traveled across his broad shoulders and skimmed down his tapered torso, snagging at the junction of his muscular thighs. Even in repose he was powerfully masculine. Her throat tightened, her blood growing thick and hot in her limbs. It was all she could do to keep from melting on the spot.
"Look at me like that much longer and I might get to thinking you enjoy the view."
She jerked her gaze away and felt her cheeks burn. "Sorry."
Rolling to his side, he lifted up on an elbow. "Sweetheart, you can look at me anytime you want." The heat in his eyes made her think he wanted to say more, but he just sat up and tipped his head at her nightgown. "That what you were looking for?"
She gave a weak smile and nodded.
He patted the bed beside him. "Come on over here, Mrs. Lonetree."
She glanced nervously at the quilt where his hand rested, and inched her way toward the bed. Mrs. Lonetree? She noticed that he'd turned on the lamp on the nightstand, and it cast a cozy glow over the dark linens.
"Scared?"
Her chin went up a notch and she shook her head. "No, of course not."
He smiled. "Liar." Sliding off the bed, he gestured at the pillows. "I'll get out of your way so you can arrange them how you want."
She climbed up into bed and hugged the top pillow to her chest. A loud click sounded behind her and she whirled around.
Cole had closed the door she'd deliberately left open, and he was leaning against it, arms folded at his waist, one ankle crossed negligently over the other. He flicked off the overhe
ad light. "Do you have any baby oil?"
Her eyes strayed to the mirrored dresser and back to him. "No. Why?"
He pushed away from the door and strolled to the dresser, then, one by one, slowly examined the few personal items she had set on it earlier. Still hugging the pillow, she watched in the mirror as he ran his fingers across the brushes and bangles, lifting her two perfume containers to his nose. When he found her small bottle of fragrant oil he twisted off the cap and rubbed a drop into his palm, testing the scent.
"Gardenia." His eyes met hers in the mirror.
"It's my only vice. Terribly expensive, but I can't make myself stop buying it."
He walked over and set the bottle on the nightstand next to the lamp. "I'll replace what we use."
She frowned at it, then looked up. "But—" It dawned on her what he had in mind, and her lips parted. She shook her head.
He shrugged, grinning. "Whatever. Your call." He sat on the edge of the bed. "Lie down."
She ignored the flock of butterflies flying stunt tricks in her stomach, and turned back to position the pillows. She changed her mind several times about their arrangement, until his deep, rich chuckle sounded in her ear. "I swear, Rini, if you'd been this nervous back in May, we'd never be having this baby. Relax." He grasped her shoulders gently. "It's just a back rub."
Just a back rub.
Just a back rub.
Who was he kidding?
She felt as nervous as a sixteen-year-old awaiting her first kiss.
The wood of the old bed creaked comfortingly as she eased herself down at an angle onto the mound of pillows. She felt a tickle of warm breath on her neck.
"Ready?"
She assumed it was a rhetorical question since his hands alighted softly on her back and ran all the way down her spine and then up again. She shivered in delight.
Lost.
She was lost in a world of velvet caresses and soft moans. He worked her aching muscles until they were as supple as warm taffy. Until she glowed with the heat of his hands and tingled with anticipation of more intimate touches. When he slipped his hands under her sweater, her body shuddered from head to toe.
"You like that?" he murmured from behind her, caressing her back.
Lucky 7 Bad Boys Contemporary Romance Boxed Set Page 63