by Dani Collins
Rico preferred a happy baby over one who was screaming, same as anyone. The baby in question, however, was his. He hadn’t fully unpacked that knowledge and very tentatively felt around in the dank spaces within him, looking for the regret Poppy had accused him of feeling toward Lily.
“Our flight should be very smooth until we’re over the Atlantic,” the attendant said. “She could walk around if you want to let her work out some energy.”
“She doesn’t walk yet.”
“There isn’t much she can get into,” Rico pointed out, still searching through the bitterness that encased him for resentment that was wrongly aimed at an innocent child. “All the drawers have catches so they won’t open midflight.”
Poppy peered at the floors. They were as spotless as they ought to be, given the salaries he paid his flight crews.
“You really wouldn’t mind?” Poppy asked the attendant.
“Of course not.” The attendant was bemused by the question and disappeared to fetch the coffee he requested.
Poppy heard his snort and shot him a frown as she unstrapped Lily. “Why am I funny?”
“This is my plane. If my daughter wants to pilot it through loop-de-loops, it’s the crew’s job to make it happen.” That much he was sure of.
Poppy released a small oof of exertion as she pulled Lily out of her seat and stood her on the floor, next to her knee. Then she reached into the toy bag and handed Lily a giraffe. She tossed the half-dozen other toys onto the empty seat next to Rico.
Lily reached for the bag, needing to peek inside to see if more would appear.
“It’s empty. They’re all there,” Poppy told her, pointing.
Lily dropped the giraffe, let go of Poppy’s knee and took three toddling steps, completely unassisted.
Poppy gasped and reached out to catch her, but Lily slapped her dimpled hand onto Rico’s knee. Her fingers closed like kitten claws into the fabric of his trousers as she steadied herself. Then she cruised around his leg and began examining the array of toys.
Poppy clapped her hand over her open mouth. Her eyes brimmed with excited tears. “Did you see that?” She dropped her hand, but emotion husked her voice.
“Those weren’t her first steps.” It couldn’t be. There’d been no fanfare. No announcement over the PA that it was about to happen. It had occurred naturally, as if she’d been doing it all along.
Poppy nodded like a bobblehead doll on the dash of a derby car.
“They were. Just like that. Baby is gone and she’s a toddler.” She wiped her damp eyes. “I shouldn’t be so silly about it. Gran kept saying it would happen any day.”
Lily had found his phone amid the stuffed toys and plastic keys. He started to take it from her, but a fierce swell of pride moved his hand to her hair. He faltered briefly then grazed his palm lightly over her fine red hair, downy as a duckling.
She was such a tiny, perfect little human. Recognizing how vulnerable she was made his heart clench in a strange panic. An urge to protect rose in him, but he already knew he wouldn’t be sufficient to the task. Not forever. Things would happen beyond his control. Then what? He had instinctively shied from this depth of responsibility, but here it was, thrust upon him, heavy and unavoidable, yet oddly welcome.
How could he not want to shield such a precious young life? How could he ever blame her for existing?
“You don’t have to impress me, you know,” he told Lily, rueful that he was so button-bursting proud of three little steps.
Lily grinned and held up his phone.
“Thank you,” he said politely and pocketed the item, offering a teething ring in exchange. He shifted his attention to Poppy.
“We both could have handled many things better,” he told her, clearing his voice to steady it while he mentally allowed the cloak of fatherhood to settle more comfortably over his shoulders. “But I will never, ever regard Lily as a mistake.”
* * *
Rico gently transferred Lily into a blue crib that likely belonged to Mateo. Rico had said this darkened penthouse in Madrid was used by any member of the family who happened to have business in the capital.
Poppy carefully tucked blankets around her overtired little girl. The first half of the flight had gone well. Everyone had caught a few hours of sleep, but Lily had begun fussing when turbulence forced her to be strapped back into her seat. By the time she had cried herself out and begun to nod off, they were descending and her ears were popping, upsetting her all over again.
“I think she’s down for the count,” Poppy said with relief as they stepped out of the room.
Rico clicked on the baby monitor and brought it with them into the lounge where he turned on a few lamps. He moved with casual confidence, hardly a wrinkle in his clothes, his eyes heavy-lidded and inscrutable.
“Are you hungry?”
“No. I feel like all I did was eat on the flight.” She crossed her arms and hunched her shoulders, hyperaware that they were alone for the first time since they’d stood under the stars that first night.
They were also married.
She had heard him tell the driver to leave their luggage in his room, but there was a conversation they needed to have before they shared it. She hadn’t figured out yet how to broach it. She wished she could be blasé and sophisticated, but she felt callow and fearful of his reaction. Would he laugh? Look at her with disappointment?
“I...um...wouldn’t mind a shower,” she murmured, more for a chance to be alone and clear her head.
“Do you want company?” His voice lowered, growing thick with sensual invitation.
Her stomach took a rollercoaster dip and swirl while a wave of heat pushed out from her center, leaving her fingers and toes, nipples and scalp all tingling.
She wanted to laugh at how easily he segued into addressing the elephant, but some of her trepidation must have shown. His expression tightened.
“We don’t have to if you’re tired.”
“It’s not that,” she murmured, more wired than tired, still trying to come to terms with everything that had happened in such a whirlwind. Drawing a breath of courage, she said, “I’m not sure what you expect.”
A brief pulse of surprise, then he said stiffly, “I expect this marriage to include a sexual relationship. I’ll never force it, though. And I would normally say a woman doesn’t need an excuse for turning me down, but given Faustina’s reasons, I’d like to understand yours.”
“I’m not turning you down,” she said with a small, nervous smile that wouldn’t stick. “I expected we’d have sex. When I took Lily for her blood test the other day, I left her with the nurse so I could get an IUD.” Sometimes her hair gifted her with the clichéd fiery blushes and now was one of those times. The entire room should have turned bordello red, she glowed so hotly with the admission that she had premeditated having sex with him.
He frowned. “You don’t want more children?”
“Not right away.” Her cheeks hurt, they were scorched so deeply. “This is a lot to get used to, don’t you think? Without bringing a newborn into the mix?”
He tipped his head slightly, acknowledging the point, but a hint of suspicion glinted in his narrowed eyes. Perhaps he saw the rest of the logic that had propelled her decision—a new baby would make it more difficult for her to leave if she had to.
“I want this marriage to work,” she assured him. “But there are things...” Her voice failed her. She cleared her throat. “Things we should discuss before...”
“Health concerns?”
“You mean disease? No! I’m perfectly fine. Are you—?”
“Completely fine,” he clipped out. “I was asking if there were complications with delivering Lily that affected you?”
“No. Just the usual leftover imperfections of stretch marks and... Well, you can see I’m still carrying a bit of baby weig
ht. Lily weaned herself three months ago and apparently these aren’t going away.” She waved at the chest that remained a cup size bigger than prepregnancy.
“I assure you I don’t consider any of those things ‘imperfections.’ Particularly the added curves. Is that the source of your hesitation? You’re self-conscious? We can keep the lights off if it will make you more comfortable. I’d prefer it, too. Otherwise my scar from my appendix surgery might turn you off.”
“Why would—Oh. All right, I get your point.” She rolled her eyes.
He paced closer, which made her freeze in place, skin growing tight with anticipation while nervous butterflies filled her torso, swirling around in every direction.
He touched her chin, coaxing her to meet his gaze with her own. “We’ve done this before,” he reminded her.
“About that...” She clasped his flat wrist and squeezed her eyes shut. “That’s the only time I’ve had sex. Ever.”
She felt the flex in his wrist and the slight increase of pressure in his grip on her chin.
“Open your eyes,” he commanded, voice seeming to resonate from the depths of his chest.
She did, meeting his gaze with chagrin. She wasn’t ashamed of being a virgin so much as feeling guilty for having misled him that day.
All she could see were his eyes, iridescent almost. Like granite that revealed flecks of precious gems when wet, glints of blue and green in the gray surrounding a giant black pool. His pupils were huge. Atavistic.
Yet skeptical.
“Ever,” she reiterated helplessly.
* * *
Rico couldn’t think of another time he’d been utterly speechless. Not that his mind had the capacity to filter any moments other than the one she was referring to. The shyness of her hands squeezing him through his pants and fumbling with his belt.
Enthusiasm counted for more than expertise when it came to lovemaking. If he’d given any thought to her lack of finesse, he had likely imagined she was as overcome as he was. He couldn’t say his own performance had been particularly adept, given the stolen nature of their tryst.
He remembered clearly that moment afterward, though, when his lingering pleasure had dimmed because he had feared he had hurt her.
Is your cycle starting?
I guess. Sorry. She’d been mortified.
Don’t apologize. At least we’re safe from—
He’d been appalled at forgetting the condom. He never forgot.
“I don’t like lies,” he warned her now, lips numb. This news was melting his face off his skull.
“I’m being honest.” She winced as though she was squirming inside. “I want to sleep with you, but I don’t want you to be...” She swallowed. Her voice remained strained. “Disappointed. I don’t want to be disappointed.”
The word wafted over him, so far from what he might be feeling as to be incomprehensible. Then his ego absorbed the hit.
“Were you disappointed that day?”
“No.” She withdrew from him a few steps and crossed her arms.
But she had nothing to compare it to. Her lack of experience began to penetrate. Belated concern struck. They’d been quite passionate. “Did I hurt you?”
“No. I mean, a little, but not...” She looked to the ceiling as though seeking deliverance. “I was fine with the discomfort. There were compensations,” she added with a small groan of embarrassed irony.
“You felt pleasure?” He had to know. “You weren’t faking your enjoyment, were you? Did you climax? Because I thought you did, but—”
“Are we really doing a forensic audit on it?” she cried, face so red it should have been accompanied by five alarms.
“I need to know, Poppy.” It was imperative.
“I didn’t fake anything! Okay? Quit asking such personal questions.”
“How is this too personal? We were both there and I’m making sure we were both there. My pride is every bit as delicate as any man’s. When it comes to the bedroom, if you’re not satisfied, I’m not satisfied. I will make you that promise right now.”
She ducked her eyes into her hand. “Thanks. And I’d love to make the same promise, but I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You don’t have to be defensive about it. I’m glad you told me. And your number of past lovers is far less important to me than how many you have now.” Obviously. “Shall we agree we’ll keep it to one?”
She peered at him over her hand, admonishing, but also earnest as she promised, “Of course I’ll be monogamous.”
“Thank you. So will I.” But he was still having trouble believing she had shelved all her passion once she’d discovered it. “There really hasn’t been anyone since me?”
“Who would I sleep with, pregnant out to here?” She set her hand in the air beyond her navel. “I was looking after my grandparents and a newborn. Babies make you want to have a date with your pillow and no one else, trust me.”
She looked too uncomfortable to be telling him anything but the truth.
It was starting to impact him that the most profound sexual experience of his life had been with a virgin. He wasn’t sentimental, but there was something endearing in knowing he was her only lover.
“Why me?” he asked gently. “Why that day?”
“Because I was feeling like my whole trip had been a bust and I wanted one decent memory to take home with me.”
“I was a souvenir?”
“I was just a notch on your belt, wasn’t I?” she shot back.
His heart lurched and he had to look away, thinking of the way he had obsessed about her ever since. He had tried to relegate her to a notch. Instead, she’d been another persistent what-if.
“It’s fine that you were only taking what I offered,” she said, hugging herself. “I didn’t care that you had all the experience and seduced me. I wanted you to. But now you’re only having sex with me because we’re married and you’re stuck with me. That would be fine if I felt like I was bringing something to the table, but I don’t have any sexual confidence because I’ve only done it one time.” Her brow furrowed.
Aside from the chaste kiss after the ceremony, he hadn’t touched her since their kiss under the stars, but he’d been acutely aware of her every minute since she had opened her door to him. His ears were attuned to each inflection in her voice—the chuckling remarks she exchanged with her grandmother, the loving tone she used when speaking to Lily. He had studied the fit of her jeans, drunk in the scent of her hair, enjoyed the smooth warmth of her hand if their fingers happened to touch. He had noted the way her lips closed over a fork and the little frown that appeared between her brows if she was growing stubborn.
He had spent every night lying awake, recalling their passionate union until he was so filled with ardor, he ached.
He couldn’t believe she didn’t know that.
But he had taken pains to keep his reaction hidden so as not to let her undermine him with what he perceived as a weakness. He hadn’t wanted to admit that he had obsessed about her from the first moment he’d seen her dusting his mother’s furniture.
“You have a lot to compare to and I don’t want to start our marriage by falling short of your expectations.” She offered a dejected smile. “That’s why we’re standing here instead of in the shower.”
CHAPTER SIX
POPPY FELT LIKE a head case and was trying not to apologize for it. Women were allowed to have reservations. To feel conflicted. She might want sex, but she didn’t want empty sex. Not this time. Not when she had tried that the first time and discovered she wasn’t capable of keeping her emotions out of the experience.
But Rico was her husband and the father of her child and their kisses had reassured her that their lovemaking would be as pleasurable as it had been the first time.
Maybe she was expecting too much.
Was tha
t what he was thinking behind that enigmatic expression? A muscle was pulsing in his jaw as though he was trying to crack nuts with his teeth.
“I haven’t been with anyone else, either,” he finally said.
“Oh, please.” Disappointment in him descended like a curtain while her heart latched a little too hard on to that outrageous statement. “It’s been nearly two years!” He could have his pick of supermodels. He’d gotten the maid with a wink and a smile, hadn’t he?
“I already told you that I slept with Faustina once. Weeks before you.” He opened his eyes to scowl with affront at her distrust. “I didn’t cheat on her, and given the way my marriage ended, I haven’t been feeling very amorous.”
She found that believable, actually.
“Until very recently,” he added pointedly, pretty much flinging sexual awareness at her and leaving her coated in it. “All of which could impact my performance. You’re not the only one with high stakes here.”
“Oh, I’m sure we’re on exactly the same level of nerves,” she muttered sarcastically.
He relaxed slightly, eyeing her. “Do you think about it?”
“What? Sex?” The whole world tilted like a magnifying glass. One moment certain things had loomed large, now all of that went out of focus while a bright ray of heat singed into her bones. “With you, or...?”
“Anyone. But sure, me.”
She was not going to admit that she thought about him all the time. “I can’t believe you’re asking me these things.”
“This is exactly the sort of conversation a husband and wife should be able to have.”
“Do you?” she challenged.
“Think about you? Of course. I’ve often recalled our lovemaking and imagined doing things with you that we didn’t have time to enjoy.”
He was admitting to fantasizing about her. And he wasn’t flinching in the least. He was staring right into her eyes and making her think of things she wished they’d done.
His brow went up in a light challenge.