“This is supposed to be a love scene, isn’t it? Not an…an Outward Bound experiment in building trust.”
Luke laughed. “Maybe it’s both. Do you trust me not to drop you and to make love with you?”
Brenna considered it. “I must. Because here we are.”
“Yeah, here we are.”
He claimed a fiery kiss before he carried her from her studio into her bedroom, holding her high against his chest. Brenna relaxed against him, her lips brushing along his jawline. Daringly she allowed the tip of her tongue to taste his salty skin.
Inside her bedroom Luke set her gently on her feet, facing him. He framed her face with his hands, kissing her forehead, the tip of her nose, the curve of each high cheekbone.
By the time he finally claimed her mouth, she was shivering with anticipation.
Her lips opened on impact, admitting his tongue inside. It seemed perfectly natural to welcome him by rubbing her tongue softly against his.
Brenna heard his moan and enjoyed the rush of sensual feminine power that filled her.
They stood together kissing, one long, deep kiss melding into another. Their kisses were both leisurely and urgent, ravenous but fulfilling, an exciting sensual paradox.
“Who’d have ever thought kissing could be this good?” Luke wondered aloud.
Both were panting and breathless when they finally had to surface for air.
“You sound downright awestruck.” Brenna touched her fingers to her lips that were moist and swollen from his kisses, then traced his own mouth, equally moist and swollen from kissing her.
“I am. Once I, er, reached a certain age and a certain stage, I viewed kissing as a strictly preliminary step, to be gotten through as quickly as possible to reach the main event. But with you—” his expression was one of almost comical astonishment “—it’s like kissing is the main event.”
Brenna smiled. “That’s very romantic, I think.”
“Come here.”
Luke turned her around and pulled her back against him, fitting her into the hard male frame of his body. He moved his big hands along the length of her arms, then back to her shoulders. Pushing aside her hair with his fingers, he kissed the curve of her neck, nibbling with his teeth, soothing the sensitized skin with his tongue.
And then he slid one hand down her back, following the zipper of her maternity tunic top.
“Let me take it off,” he whispered huskily, his nimble fingers already unzipping.
Brenna drew a quick breath. If she didn’t want this to proceed any further, now was the time to speak up.
But she didn’t say a word as he peeled the unzipped tunic open and slowly moved it down her arms, over her breasts, over her bulging belly. It finally landed in a deep rose-colored pool at her feet.
Brenna stared down at her breasts, cupped firmly in her well-fitted maternity bra, designed for exactly that purpose. She laid one hand on the stretch panel of her maternity leggings that covered the hard swell of her abdomen. Within her womb, the baby was quiet, probably sleeping. There was no movement to observe beneath the material.
“Like we said earlier, this…this shape isn’t what you’re used to seeing when you’re in a woman’s bedroom,” she said faintly.
“No, it isn’t,” Luke agreed.
For a moment she imagined the women in his past, those women whose curvaceous figures had tantalized him. But the past was just that, past. And if he was no longer a shallow jerk who demanded certain things, then she wasn’t a frigid headcase to be intimidated by them.
Luke linked his hand with her own, interlacing their fingers. His other hand covered hers, which rested on her belly.
“I like the way you look, Brenna.” His voice was husky.
She glowed from the warmth in his tone. It mingled with a raw sensuality that enticed, rather than unnerved her. She couldn’t resist him or these wonderful feelings he was evoking within her.
An urgent need to feel his lips on hers again surged through her, and she turned in his arms, clasping his head with her hands to kiss him until she felt too dizzy to stand. But there was no cause for concern, for standing was no longer required.
Luke picked her up again and carried her over to her bed. With precision expertise, he pulled off the flowered quilt comforter while still holding her, then carefully placed her in the center of the bed, on the matching flowered sheets.
Standing beside the bed, he deftly, swiftly, pulled off his clothes.
Brenna stared at him, her eyes wide. He was muscled and well built, his body fully aroused and taut with desire. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his skin. The sight literally took her breath away.
Luke noticed. “Breathe, Brenna,” he reminded her, and reached out his hand to smooth her hair. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? Because you don’t have to. You know that, don’t you?”
He waited for her answer.
His control, his concern for her, despite his own heightened state of desire, reassured her.
Brenna met his blue eyes, which glittered with sexual hunger. He wanted her, but he wouldn’t force her if she were to call things to a halt right now.
Which she didn’t want to do, Brenna realized with certainty.
She wanted this; she wanted him…because she loved him. Brenna put her hand on Luke’s.
He responded at once to her invitation and sat down beside her on the bed.
“I know I don’t have to,” she murmured. “It’s my choice.” Just saying the words empowered her.
“And you choose me,” he said huskily. “I’m glad, Brenna. And proud, too. I’m proud of you.” He gazed at her. “I admire your courage and your resolve in handling whatever was thrown your way.”
His eyes, his tone, his expression, invited her to confide in him, to tell him about whatever had been thrown her way.
Brenna shifted. “Luke, I don’t want to tell you my life story, especially not here. And especially not now. I just want this to be between you and me, with no ghosts from the past.”
“Okay. But can I say that from what I’ve guessed, you were dealt a crummy hand and played it well? And that having a woman like you want me, only me—well, it validates me. Do you get what I’m trying to say, Brenna?”
“I hope it’s not that you see me as some kind of ticket to redemption for your, uh, disreputable past?” she asked lightly. “Because that is one melodramatic role I don’t care to play.”
“I see you as a woman I want very much.” He smiled into her eyes. “Better?”
“Much.”
Luke unhooked the back clasp of her maternity bra and slowly drew it from her body. Her breasts were swollen and full. He liked the idea that nature—not silicone implants—was responsible for the enhancement.
He continued to stare. Her nipples were large, dark and taut. The size of her nipples fascinated him; they were full and pouty, ready to nurse a child. He had never seen the breasts of a pregnant woman before and had never wanted to, but the sight of Brenna transfixed him.
Their mouths met in another slow, sultry kiss while one of his hands moved lightly over her breasts, cupping one, then the other, learning the feel and shape of each. His fingers caressed her nipples, circling the aureoles, toying with the full, tight tips.
Brenna whimpered, twisting closer, clinging to him. It was so much, so pleasurable and exciting, yet she needed, she wanted…more.
As if magically attuned to her thoughts, Luke proceeded to undress her. There was a time when she would have been mortified to be naked in front of any man—and to be naked and pregnant in a male’s presence would’ve been awful beyond imagining.
But being here, doing this with Luke, felt neither embarrassing or unreal.
It felt good. It felt as if this was the way it was supposed to be.
They lay down on the bed together, nude, their bodies entwined, kissing and caressing for an endless time. Brenna felt his manhood, hot and swollen pressing against her, and curiosity and desire flooded he
r, drowning her past fears in a tidal wave of passion.
She was on the verge of reaching for him, of succumbing to the unexpected need of touching him there, when he lifted his lips from hers and glided his hands over her belly, over her hips.
“I can’t get enough of you, Brenna,” he whispered, nibbling on her neck. “The more I touch you, the more I taste you, it’s not enough.”
His words swirled through her head as he kissed her along the length of her collarbone, then moved his mouth lower, to her breasts. He nipped and suckled her, lightly grazing her ultrasensitive skin, teasing each rosy peak.
The sensation was excruciatingly pleasurable, like nothing she had ever known. She wanted him to stop, because she didn’t think it was possible to sustain this level of physical intensity, she wanted him to go on and on and never stop….
And then his lips continued a downward path along her body, probing her belly button, which pregnancy had pushed outward, with his tongue, nuzzling her abdomen. And moved lower…
Brenna gasped for breath when it dawned on her where he was heading, what he was intent on doing with his mouth….
She grabbed a fistful of his hair, abruptly stopping him.
Luke raised his head and looked at her, his blue eyes questioning.
“Sorry. I…didn’t mean to pull your hair out by the roots.” She released her grip and sat up. “But I—I’ve never—” she blurted out, blushing. She turned her head, unable to hold his gaze. “Luke, I’ve never done that before. I—I’ve never even tried the…the, uh, missionary position.”
She cringed, blushing fiercely. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m not experienced at sex.”
With violence, yes. She had experienced that. The addendum leaped into her head, but she didn’t say it aloud and she pushed the thought away. No ghosts from the past allowed, not here and not now.
“I pretty much figured your sexual experience was limited,” Luke said conversationally, pulling himself up to sit beside her. “And if you wouldn’t even try the venerable old missionary position—conservative enough, even for missionaries!—of course you would never attempt anything else. You especially wouldn’t allow an intimacy that means giving up total control, opening yourself completely both emotionally and physically—”
“You sound like a sex therapist on cable!” Brenna interjected hotly.
“If that’s a compliment, thanks. If it’s an insult, ouch.” Luke shrugged. “But what I mean to say is that I understand, Brenna. There is a lust-into-trust coalition that has to occur, and until it does, you’re not ready.”
The affection in his tone bolstered her like a shot of brandy. “Does the coalition ever go the other way? From trust into lust?”
“I don’t see why it couldn’t.”
He kissed her long and lingeringly, his hands resuming the gentle fondling of her breasts. Brenna felt herself melting—all her inhibitions, her anxiety and fear, seemed to just flow away.
When their lips briefly parted, they both opened their eyes, and their gazes met and held.
“I don’t know which coalition occurred, but I’m ready,” she whispered.
She knew she trusted Luke…she certainly lusted for him! She had already granted him intimacies she would never have anticipated with any other man. And she was ready for more.
Luke kissed her again, slowly, taking his time with her, not shortchanging an inch of her skin with his lips as he resumed his intimate journey of her body.
He kissed her legs from her thighs to her ankles, first one and then the other, before parting them with his hands. His mouth nipped and laved the soft skin of her inner thighs, before moving to her center, opening her to him, tasting her.
The intimate contact made her arch instinctively and cry out. She was unprepared for this, after all, and a self-conscious flush suffused her skin from head to toe.
Luke lifted his head and reached for her hand, holding it until she opened her eyes. Brenna saw him watching her, saw the desire in his hot blue gaze.
“Relax, Brenna. Let me take you there.” His voice was softly compelling.
“I feel like a freak,” she confessed nervously. “Most women my age aren’t so…so—”
“You’re not a freak, and this is just between the two of us, remember? Other women your age aren’t allowed in here.”
The warmth and humor, the soothing patience in his tone, convinced her. Brenna’s eyelids fluttered shut, and she breathed deeply.
When Luke continued his tender seduction, she gave in to the all-consuming need. And she gave complete control to Luke Minteer.
Complete control.
It was a dizzying surrender. She felt the sensual, primal waves rising and surging within her. Brenna moaned, unable to stay silent as she was swept away in a tornado of whirling emotion, of searing passion and pleasure that built and built until she was sure she would implode from the sheer intensity of it all.
She screamed Luke’s name as she shattered into rapturous spasms. A shower of tiny fireworks flashed behind her closed eyes; her whole body pulsed with currents of sensuous electricity.
Slowly, very slowly, she began to drift down from the soaring heights to which he had taken her. His strong arms surrounded her, her head was resting against his chest, his voice low and smooth.
“Luke,” she managed to whisper, but her eyelids were so heavy she couldn’t lift them.
“I’m here, my love.”
Brenna wanted to open her eyes and gaze into Luke’s, to tell him about the emotions he had released in her, to thank him for setting her free. For she felt free and light as air, floating in a bubble of pure euphoria.
She wanted to reciprocate, to send him to the same thrilling peaks of ecstasy where he had so unselfishly taken her. But her sated body’s demand for sleep overruled her.
Snuggling deeper in his arms, inhaling his unique Luke-scent, Brenna slipped into a deep sleep.
Luke held her, watching her. Her breathing was deep and even, her body totally relaxed. From the pleasure and satisfaction he had given her.
A smile curved his lips. He had given her much pleasure. And though his own body was aching with unassuaged need, he found his lack of fulfillment relatively easy to ignore.
Because the unfamiliar feeling of tenderness that suffused him was something of a reward in itself. Amazingly, by putting her needs first, he had never felt more of a man.
He felt a slight jab on his wrist and looked at her naked belly. Was that a tiny foot or a hand moving under there, making contact with him?
“Are you doing push-ups in there, squirt? Or pretending to kick a soccer ball around?”
He placed his palm over her abdomen and felt the now-rolling movements of the baby within, who had obviously awakened and was exercising.
“Sam or Susie? Which one are you?” He rubbed her tummy as if he were tousling the hair of the child within. “Boy or girl, you’re gonna be cute, because your mom is a real babe, if you’ll pardon the unpolitically correct expression. And you’ve also got those tall, blond chromosomes from, uh, the Swedish guy.”
For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to refer to the medical student sperm donor as a father. This baby belonged to Brenna; Dr. Test Tube was out of the picture forever.
Which left an opening in her life and in the baby’s life, too. There really ought to be a man in the picture, a man who cared about Brenna and her child.
Luke reached down and grabbed the quilt comforter from the floor, pulling it over Brenna and himself.
Gradually, his body stopped throbbing from unfulfilled urgency, and his arousal faded and dissolved into exhaustion. He fell asleep in Brenna’s bed, his arms protectively cradling her and the unborn baby.
Seven
Brenna awakened, feeling groggy and disoriented.
She glanced around her bedroom and noticed that the curtains weren’t drawn. For her to be in bed with the curtains open was a definite anomaly; she ritually closed them before climbing in
to bed at night.
Focusing more clearly, she saw snowflakes falling desultorily outside the window and realized that it wasn’t nighttime, after all. The skies were gray and cloudy, but it was definitely daylight out there.
And then, abruptly, Brenna came fully awake and sat upright in bed, as if struck by a bolt of lightning.
She was nude under her quilt! The sensual memories accompanying that observation struck her with avalanche force.
Brenna sprang from the bed as fast as her pregnant shape would permit, ignoring her clothes, which were still on the floor where Luke had dropped them while undressing her.
She snatched her oversize fleecy blue robe and pulled it on, shivering, though she felt hot, as if her entire body was one heated red blush.
Perhaps she woke the baby with her fast and frantic motions, because all at once she felt him/her turning a somersault, first one way, then the other.
And while the baby enjoyed its afternoon workout, Brenna thought of herself with Luke, visualizing him, feeling the touch of his lips…
What had she done?
Oh, what she had done!
“I’m sorry,” she whispered aloud, her hand on her belly.
The words echoed in her head, mocking her. How many times had she heard I’m sorry from her mother after Marly had done something extraordinarily stupid? Enough times to discount the apology completely and to know that there would be another one, equally meaningless, forthcoming after Marly’s next misadventure.
And now here she was, Brenna herself, repeating the same words to her own child after having a misadventure of her own.
That it was a misadventure, Brenna had no doubt. The fact that she was alone, that Luke Minteer was gone, spoke volumes. Marly Morgan inevitably had ended up alone, too. Brenna groaned aloud.
She should head right into her studio and get to work putting the final polishing touches on Kristin’s wardrobe. She could lose herself in that world, in the decade of the “ohs.”
Not aught.
Once again Luke filled her head.
Brenna headed purposefully into the bathroom, turned on the shower and shed her robe. The warm water sluiced over her skin, and she rubbed coconut-scented liquid soap over her body.
Irresistible You Page 11