Raising the Stakes

by Sandra Marton

  Her breasts were rounded and delicate; he knew they would just fill his palms. Her nipples were pale apricot, the tips pearling even before he stroked them. Her body was warming, coming alive to him, for him, and he could feel his own flesh swelling, rising, aching with need for her. Only for her, he thought fiercely, and he forced his gaze to her face, saw her parted lips, her glazed eyes—eyes glittering not with fear but with the awakening of desire.

  “Do you like what I’m doing?” he said thickly.

  She tried to answer. Couldn’t. Something was happening to her. She could feel her blood turning thick, beating hot and heavy through her body. And her breasts. They were—they were lifting. Hardening. Her nipples were growing tight. They ached. They wanted. She wanted. Wanted…

  That. Oh, yes, that. Gray’s hands, cupping her breasts. Raising them even as he bent his head. Her body was waiting for this. This. Her breath hissed from her lungs as he tongued one hardened bud, then drew it into his mouth and suckled her. She was startled. She’d never known men did this to women, or that it could feel like this, like a bolt of lightning that speared from breast to belly. She ached. Throbbed. God oh God oh God…

  Her cry rose into the silence of the room and Gray groaned against her flesh, told himself that it wasn’t possible for a man to come just because a woman dug her fingers into his hair, rose to his touch and his mouth, cried out in ecstasy, but if he didn’t hang on, that was what would happen, he’d never get inside her in time…

  Think about something else, he told himself frantically. Tort law. Case law. Think about anything but this, the taste of her breasts, the feel of her belly under his hand, the way she trembled when he slid his fingers inside her panties, found her wet and hot, so hot…

  He took her down with him into the softness of the bed. She was sobbing, whispering his name as he pulled off her panties, dipped his head and sucked at her nipples, found the damp satin petals he sought, found the flower they guarded, felt it bloom against his thumb and this time, when she cried out, arched toward him, eyes wide and blind, he crushed her mouth with his and drank in her cries, her pleasure, her surrender.

  She fell back against the pillows and he lifted his head, watched her face, felt a fierce exaltation sweep through him. Mine, he thought, mine forever…

  “Gray.” She held up her arms. “Gray.” Her voice broke. “Gray…”

  He tore off his clothes, settled between her thighs, told himself to go slowly, enter her slowly. God, she was—she was… Hot. Tight. Wet. So wet. The breath hissed from his lungs as he eased inside her. He felt his body bead with sweat. What he wanted was to drive deep, put his mark on her in the most primitive way possible, but he knew not to hurt her or frighten her. What was she thinking? Feeling?

  “Dawn.” He took her hands, wove his fingers through hers. “Sweetheart. Are you all right?”

  She opened her eyes and looked up at him. He could see the shock on her face. His heart constricted; he waited for his flesh to follow suit but his body was flying on its own. No. No. She wasn’t ready. Slowly he began to withdraw. She whimpered, lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips.

  God, she was going to kill them both.

  “Don’t. Sweetheart.” He swallowed. Still inside her, he willed himself not to move as he lowered his forehead to hers. “If you do that, I won’t be able to stop.”

  “Don’t stop.” She reached up to him, clasped his biceps. “Please. Oh please. Gray. Gray…”

  She arched like a bow seeking an arrow and impaled herself on him. Her cry of release rang through the room. Then, at last, Gray threw back his head and let himself tumble off the edge of the earth with the woman he loved in his arms.

  * * *

  “Nooooo….”

  “Dawn?” Gray shot up in bed as the scream razored through the middle-of-the-night silence. “Dawn?”

  He threw out a hand, found her beside him, thrashing and moaning. A dream. It was just a dream. Heart pounding, he switched on the lamp and reached for her. She fought him like a tiger, beating her fists against his chest and shoulders, fingernails raking his cheek as he clasped her shoulders.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re dreaming. Come on. Wake up.”

  Her head snapped up. She stared at him but he knew she didn’t see him. Her eyes were wide and sightless; her lips drawn back from her teeth in a rictus of fear. A memory came to him, all too vividly, of a coyote with its leg caught in the teeth of a steel trap. He’d been a kid then, riding his father’s land, helpless in the face of the animal’s terror and pain.

  This, thank God, was different.

  “Dawn.” He drew her against him, held her tight, whispered to her, talked to her, told her that everything was all right, that she’d been dreaming, that he would keep her safe. After what seemed endless minutes, he felt her muscles start to relax.

  “Gray?”

  “Yes, baby. I’m right here.”

  “I had a dream…”

  “I know.” Her hair was tangled and damp. He stroked it back and kissed the tender flesh behind her ear. “But it’s over. You’re safe, sweetheart.”

  She gave a little sob that almost broke his heart and burrowed against him. “Hold me.”

  He kissed her mouth, rocked her gently in his arms. “Do you want to tell me about your dream?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “How about if I get you a glass of water?”

  “Thank you, but I’m okay now.”

  She wasn’t. Her skin was clammy and every now and then, she shuddered. His arms tightened around her. He knew exactly what she’d dreamed about. Harman. Her husband, the man who had beaten her, brutalized her…

  “Dawn.” Gray slid down against the pillows, still holding her against him. “I’ll never let anything hurt you again.”

  She sighed, her breath warm against his skin, and lay her face against his chest. “I was dreaming about my husband,” she whispered.

  His jaw tightened. “Were you?”

  “He’s a—he’s mean.”

  “Is he?” he said, while he stared up at the ceiling and wondered how long he could lie here answering her with such stupid questions, listening to her tell him her secrets without admitting his.

  “When I was with him… When he—when he touched me, you know, when he took me in bed…”

  “Don’t, sweetheart.”

  “No. I mean, I have to.” She lifted her head and looked at him, her hair spilling over her shoulders and onto his chest. “You need to know that I’ve never… I never imagined what happened tonight could be so—so wonderful.”

  Gray rolled over, taking her with him, resting his weight on his elbows as he looked down into her pale face.

  “How long did you stay with him?”

  “Almost five years. Then I—I left.”

  “Did you ever love him? I mean, when you married him, you must have thought—”

  “I don’t know what I thought.” She swallowed dryly. “I was young. My mama was—she had problems of her own. And when Harman began to pay attention to me…”

  “Harman?” Jesus, the lies were catching in his throat. “Is that his name?”

  She nodded. “He seemed nice. He was older but at first he treated me sort of like a father, and I figured that was okay. Actually it was fine. I’d never had a father around and, well, it’s hard to explain but I always used to think how nice it would be if I did.” She cleared her throat. “I know how silly that seems, but—”

  “It doesn’t seem silly at all.” Gray took a strand of her hair between his fingers. It felt cool and silky as it curled around his finger. “I used to think the same way when I was a kid.”

  Dawn’s brows lifted. “You didn’t have a father, either?”

  “Well, I did, yeah. I still do, but he wasn’t the father I wanted him to be, I guess.”

  “Then you know what it’s like. To want someone to care about you, I mean.” A few seconds passed. “Harman said he loved me. He ask
ed me to marry him. I said I thought we should wait a while, until I was a little older and we knew each other better, but he said there wasn’t any point in waiting and I knew—I knew my mama wanted me gone. We just had this trailer and—and there wasn’t very much room and—and—” She licked her lips. “I figured I’d learn to care for him. I mean, before we got married, he was nice to me. He never—he never…”

  Gray kissed her, felt her mouth tremble beneath his. God, how he wanted to tell her that he knew all about Harman, but he’d let things go too far. Or maybe not. Yes, there were endless explanations to make and yes, she’d be upset, but he could handle that. He could tell her that he’d come looking for a faceless woman and found, instead, someone who had changed his life, that in ways he couldn’t begin to explain or comprehend, he knew that this—the two of them, together—was right, and that all of what had happened before they met was just a prelude to the future that stretched ahead.

  “Dawn.” He laid his hand against her cheek, curved it over the delicate arch of bone and rubbed his thumb across her mouth. “Sweetheart, there are things I haven’t told you…” He paused, silently cursed himself. Where was all the fluency that served him so well in the courtroom? “Baby, we’ve only known each other a handful of days and yet—”

  “I know.” She smiled, caught hold of his hand and kissed it. “It’s the same for me. We only just met and yet, I’ve told you things I’ve never told another soul.” He kissed her. Her lips parted, clung to his, and she looped her arms around his neck. “I’ve never been so happy,” she said softly.

  The simple admission felt like a blow to the heart. “Dawn,” he said, “sweetheart—”

  “You’re the first man I ever made love with. What happened with my husband wasn’t… You’re the first, Gray. And it was wonderful.”

  “Yes. It was.”

  “And you’re the first man I’ve ever trusted.” She gave a sad little laugh. “The first person I’ve ever trusted. I don’t think you know what that means to me, to be able to trust someone.”

  “Baby, remember what you said before? About things being complicated? Well, it’s true. Life never goes in a straight line. There are twists and turns and detours, and—”

  She drew him toward her. “And you were right,” she murmured, her lips a breath away. “We uncomplicated it, in this bed.”

  She kissed him again, and the sweet innocence of it pierced his heart. He wasn’t worthy of her trust. He wanted to tell her that but if he did, God, if he did, he’d lose her. There had to be a way to tell her the truth without raising the stakes so high.

  “Yes,” he said gruffly, “we did.”

  Dawn smiled. “I love the way you talk. That accent,” she said, when he lifted his eyebrows. “That little touch of Texas that you can’t quite disguise.”

  “I don’t try to disguise it,” he said defensively. She was the one who raised her eyebrows this time and he chuckled. “Okay, maybe I do. Truth is, even when I was a kid, I couldn’t wait to get out of Texas.”

  “Why? I mean, I can tell you’re, well, that you were brought up in a nice home.”

  “A nice home?”

  “Uh-huh. Don’t look at me like that. You know what I mean.”

  He grinned. “That somebody taught me which fork to use for my salad? That kind of stuff?”

  Dawn tapped his chin with her fist. “Go on, make fun of me. Yes, that kind of stuff. Those things matter. You don’t know how much unless you have to learn them when you’re all grown up.”

  His smile tilted. “Takes a lot of determination, I’ll bet.”

  “A thick skin, is what it takes. You catch people looking at you when you do something dumb, and you want to just shut your eyes and pretend you’re not there.” She sighed. “You were joking, but I really did have to learn which fork to use. Which spoon. I even had to learn how to dress.”

  Gray ran his hand down her back, cupped her bottom. “As far as I can see,” he said, his voice a little husky, “you dress just fine.”

  “I’m serious. When I got my first job…” Her breath caught. “What are you doing?”

  “Just checking what you’re wearing. Mmm. Feels smooth. Silky.”

  “Gray.”

  Her voice was breathy; he loved the sound of it, the way it changed when he touched her, like now.

  “What?”

  “I didn’t know… I never thought a man would touch a woman where—where… Gray. Oh God, Gray…”

  “I like to touch you there.” He moved down on the bed, kissed her breasts, her belly, traced the faint line from her navel to the soft curls below it with the tip of his tongue. “I like to look at you there, too,” he whispered, slipping his hands under her thighs, lifting her, opening her to him.

  “No. Gray, you can’t—”

  “You’re beautiful, sweetheart. Every part of you. Your face. Your breasts. This. This perfect blossom, with such soft petals and this hidden within it…”

  She moaned as he touched her. He watched her eyes go blind, felt the answering tug of his own need shoot through his body. He whispered her name, put his mouth where his hand had been, and Dawn cried out in shock. He kissed her. Nipped her. Tongued her until she forgot everything but him and the night…and felt only how deeply she’d fallen in love.

  * * *

  The pale gray of early morning was creeping past the edges of the curtains when Gray awoke. Dawn lay sprawled half across him, her head on his chest, her hand splayed over his heart.

  I love her, he thought, and the realization came so easily, so joyously, that he smiled.

  He kissed her temple, curved his arm more closely around her, and stared at the ceiling. Maybe it was a good thing that he hadn’t blurted out the truth during the night, not just because of how she’d have reacted but because he needed time to put together a plan. Actually he’d started roughing one out while Dawn slept in his arms after the last time they’d made love.

  He knew she was convinced that keeping her child’s existence a secret was the only thing that would save him from Harman. Gray’s mouth thinned. She was probably right. The bastard would never stop searching, especially now that he thought there was money involved. But things were different now. He was in her life.

  He would stop Kitteridge, and he didn’t give a damn if he did it legally or not.

  Because the law was his specialty, he’d try that first, all the tricks of the trade that lay buried in the leather-bound volumes in the law library back in his New York offices. And if those tricks weren’t enough, he had other resources, clients who knew how to change the minds of even the most determined men.

  Whatever it took, Gray thought grimly, Kitteridge was going to be part of the past.

  “Gray?” Dawn’s voice was thick with sleep. “Wha’ time issit?”

  “Shh.” He bent his head and pressed a kiss to her hair. “It’s early, baby. Too early to get up.”

  “Mmm.” She rolled away from him, flopped over and sprawled out on her belly. Seconds later, her breathing was deep and slow again.

  Gray smiled. A couple of hours ago, she’d told him she always got up early. “I’ll try not to wake you,” she’d said through a giant yawn.

  He’d drawn her close into his arms. “Call in and tell them you’re taking the day off.”

  “Uh-uh. Can’t. Promised I’d go in at noon and take over for Becky.”

  “Then you don’t have to get up early.”

  “Told you, I always get up early.”

  Another yawn. He’d grinned, sure he’d heard her jaw creak. “Good. We can get up early and fool around.”

  That had won him a soft laugh. “Fool around, huh?”

  “Sure. Work up an appetite for breakfast.”

  “Don’t want breakfast,” she’d mumbled, just before she’d started to snore. “Jus’ want sleep.”

  Remembering it, Gray smiled. What he wanted was to wake her with a kiss and do some of that fooling around, but he didn’t have the heart. Beside
s… He lifted his arm and checked his watch. Things would be starting to move back East right about now. He needed to call his secretary, ask her to pull some case history volumes from the library. He wanted to talk to one of his partners, too, a guy who was as well-versed in marital law as anybody in New York. And, just in case all the legal maneuvering in the world didn’t do the trick, maybe he should begin to think about those of his clients who would best know how to dissuade a man who didn’t want to be dissuaded.

  First thing, though, he had to phone Jack Ballard. He was surprised Jack had missed finding out about Dawn’s son but then again, he’d been searching for Dawn, not for a kid. Gray wanted to know where the boy was. His meeting with Harman had left him feeling uneasy. He had the feeling that he might have stirred things up. It would be best to locate Dawn’s child, keep some kind of watch on him.

  Gray sat up, eased to the edge of the bed and turned for one last look at Dawn. How different she looked from those photos…photos in the briefcase he’d forgotten in the back seat of his rental car yesterday. The memory gave him a twinge of distress even though he knew the briefcase was safe. He’d phoned Winslow during the flight to Vegas and the guy he’d paid to drive the car to Flagstaff said he’d already found the briefcase and sure, he’d send it to Gray at the Desert Song, pronto.

  He collected his clothes, dressed quietly, then made one last detour to the bed. How could a man fall in love when he’d never believed love existed? How could it happen in a handful of days? He didn’t know. He didn’t care. All that mattered was Dawn. Once he was sure she was safe, he’d tell her everything. She’d be angry but she’d understand…and if she didn’t, he’d take her in his arms and kiss her until she did.

  He tiptoed into the kitchen and quietly phoned for a taxi. “Tell the driver not to blow his horn,” he said. “I’ll be waiting outside.” Then he found a pencil and piece of paper, scrawled a note and went back to the bedroom. The bear he’d given Dawn sat in a place of honor on the night table, and he tucked the note under its paw.

  Goodbye, sweetheart, it said. I’ll see you later.

  He looked at her for a long minute before gently kissing her temple. Then he smoothed the blanket over her shoulder, made his way quietly to the front door, set the lock, and stepped out into the morning.