The Tender Trap

by Beverly Barton

  Adam carried his glass of bourbon with him, sat down on the sofa beside Blythe and took a sip of the mellow liquor. She scooted as far away from him as she could without getting up.

  “What do you think I’m going to do, jump on you?” He sloshed the bourbon around inside the glass, then took a hefty swallow, shaking his head and blowing when the liquid blazed a trail down his throat and into his stomach.

  “I understand you have that sort of reputation.” Blythe glared at him, issuing him a challenge without realizing what she was doing.

  Adam set his drink down on the glass-and-brass coffee table, then turned to face Blythe, laying his hand across the back of the sofa and lifting his right knee onto the cushion. “Ms. Elliott, you don’t have a thing to worry about. When I take a woman, I want her to be just that—a woman. And I want her willing. No, I want her more than willing. I want her begging for it.”

  Blythe cursed the blush she felt spreading up her neck and onto her face. She was supposed to be a woman of the world, dammit. She had dated practically every unattached man in north Alabama, and found them all lacking in one way or another. None of the guys she dated wanted to admit that he’d been the first one she had refused to sleep with, so no one, except Joy, knew that Blythe Alana Elliott was a twenty-eight-year-old virgin.

  Clutching the thickly padded sofa arm with her hand, Blythe looked at Adam. “For the life of me, I can’t figure out why Joy chose you to be Melissa’s godfather. If anything were to happen to Joy and Craig, you’d make the worst possible father substitute in the world.”

  “And you’d make a great mother, I suppose?”

  “I’d certainly try to be a good mother.” Blythe’s sculptured lavender nails bit into the leather as she squeezed the sofa arm tightly. “Since I’m not married, I can’t say that motherhood is something I’ve thought about very much... until Joy got pregnant. I adore Missy. She’d never want for love and attention from me.”

  “Well, believe me, I haven’t given fatherhood a thought since my divorce, but if that little girl ever needed me, I’d be there for her.”

  “No little girl should be raised by a man like you!” Blythe jumped up off the couch, intending to go into the bedroom, where she’d deposited her purse when she’d arrived before the party started.

  Adam stood, followed her across the living room and into his downstairs bedroom. Stopping abruptly in the doorway, Blythe glanced over her shoulder.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “Just what kind of man do you think I am?”

  Adam didn’t know why her accusation had stung so badly. Maybe it was because once he had wanted a child of his own desperately. He and Lynn had tried for two years of their five-year marriage, but his wife had never gotten pregnant. Just when he had agreed for them to seek medical advice, he had discovered Lynn’s infidelity. She hadn’t married her lover, but she had eventually remarried, finished law school and was now a successful attorney in Birmingham.

  He supposed he had loved Lynn once, when they’d first married and he’d thought she wanted nothing more than to be his wife and the mother of his children. But she hadn’t been satisfied with their comfortable life—a life he had worked hard to give her.

  A simple explanation for the demise of their marriage would be to say that they grew apart or grew in different directions. But the way Adam saw it, he had given in to her wants and wishes time and time again. He had compromised his ideals for her, had accepted the fact she wanted a career and had supported her efforts. He’d done everything possible to save their faltering relationship, but the one thing he couldn’t compromise on was fidelity. She’d taken a lover. And Adam had never forgiven her.

  Turning slowly to face him, Blythe gazed up into Adam’s stern face, into his stormy brown eyes, and shivered.

  “I think you’re a big, macho stud who reaches out and takes what he wants. You believe women have one purpose. You’d like to see us all kept barefoot and pregnant.”

  Heat rose up his neck and into his face. How dare this little snip of woman accuse him of being such a jerk. What did she know about him, about the kind of man he was?

  “What is it with you?” Adam asked, moving toward Blythe slowly, forcing her to confront him face-to-face. “I’ve never done a damned thing to you, but you attack me every time we meet.”

  “I know your type. You’re all alike. All of you. Keep a woman in her place. Tell her what she can and can’t do. Make all her decisions for her, and do it all in the name of love. Your wife probably divorced you because she couldn’t endure another day of being totally dominated.” Blythe backed into the bedroom, cautiously moving away from the big man whose facial expression told her he was on the verge of exploding. “I’m going to get my purse and leave. Occasionally I find your macho man act amusing, but not now. I’m too tired for another sparing match.”

  Adam overtook her just as she backed into his king-size bed, the slight jar of her legs against the mattress making her unsteady on her feet. He grabbed her by the shoulders. Thunder boomed. The windows rattled. Blythe cried out, tears filling her eyes. Why did she keep crying? It wasn’t like her to be this emotional over nothing. Admit it, she told herself, Adam Wyatt has you running scared. You want him so bad you can taste it, but you know falling for him would be the biggest mistake of your life. Balling her hands into fists, she longed to strike out at Adam, hoping that by fighting him she could overcome the temptation to throw herself into his arms.

  Tightening his hold on her shoulders, he shook her. “Where the hell did you get those ridiculous ideas about my ex-wife and me?”

  “I figured it out on my own.” Blythe tried to free herself from his hold, then ceased struggling and swatted at her tearstained face. “I’ve had more than enough of you for one day. Let go of me. I want to leave.”

  “Calm down,” he told her. “You can’t go out in the rain, upset and crying. You’re liable to have a wreck.”

  Swallowing her tears, Blythe jerked away from Adam and tied to turn around, only to be confronted by the king-size black metal bed. She could feel Adam directly behind her, could feel his strength and power. Dear God, she had to get away from him, get away from the way he made her feel.

  “Blythe?” His voice dropped to a deep baritone, the sound echoing in the stillness of the room.

  She trembled when he placed his hands on her shoulders, slowly turning her to face him. She hung her head, avoiding eye contact.

  “Who the hell made you dislike men so much, and me in particular?” It became apparent to Adam that somewhere along the way, some man had done a number on Blythe Elliott. What other explanation could there be for her actions?

  “Not all men—just overbearing macho ones like you. My stepfather made my mother his slave. Wouldn’t let her have a career. She had no life of her own, no income, no way to escape him. He made her totally dependent on him and loved having her beg him for every...” Blythe gulped down her anger at the same time she tried to wipe the tears from her eyes. Her hand trembled. “Raymond was a real son of a bitch!”

  Adam reached down, touching her cheeks with his fingertips, brushing away the dampness of her tears. “Do I remind you of your stepfather?”

  “Yes!” Blythe shook her head. “No, not really. It’s just that you’re a big man, very masculine, very handsome, and... and women seem to adore you. You’re an old-fashioned, macho guy. Raymond was like that.”

  Adam couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d felt as protective of anyone as he did Blythe at this precise moment. He wanted to gather her into his arms, hold and comfort her, make her feel safe and secure. “Don’t confuse me with your stepfather. All men aren’t bastards. Surely you’ve discovered that fact by now. It’s not like there haven’t been men in your—”

  Another loud blast of thunder drowned out the sound of Adam’s voice. Gasping, Blythe grabbed Adam around the waist, clinging to him.

  He stroked her short hair, the dark auburn strands beneath hi
s hand like heavy, cinnamon silk to the touch. “It’s all right, babe. I’m here. I’ll take care of you.”

  Blythe froze the moment she heard his declaration. Glaring at him, she eased her arms from around his waist and punched him in the chest with her finger. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me!”

  “We all need somebody to take care of us,” Adam said. “Women need men. Men need women. Needing someone isn’t a weakness, you know. A real woman knows how to give and take.”

  She lifted her hands, gripping the lapels of his jacket, staring up at him, her eyes pleading with him—she did need something from him, but Adam wasn’t sure what.

  Slowly, he cradled the back of her head with his palm, roaming his other hand down her neck, bringing her body closer to his. He looked into her green-flecked hazel eyes and was lost. Diamond teardrops glistened in her thick reddish brown lashes. Her full, pouty lips opened slightly as she breathed in and out. The sprinkling of tiny freckles across her nose beckoned him to kiss each pale copper dot.

  Blythe Elliott was utterly enchanting.

  Hell, what was he thinking? What was he doing? Loosening his hold on her, Adam took a step backward.

  “Adam?” Blythe felt lost without him, without the touch of his fingers in her hair, the support of his hand on her back. She didn’t want him to release her. She’d be alone again. So very alone.

  “I’H drive you home.” He turned to leave the room. “I’ll get someone to bring your car over to your apartment in the morning.”

  Although he had his back to her, Blythe nodded her head. She stood frozen to the spot by the bed for a few minutes, waiting while Adam walked out into the hall. She picked up her purse, hung it over her shoulder and followed him.

  “I can drive myself home.” She couldn’t understand the overwhelming urge she had to ask him if she could stay with him. I don’t want to go, Adam. I want to stay here with you. I want you to...

  “If you drive yourself, I’ll worry about you,” he said.

  When they neared the front door, Adam flipped the light switch, throwing the room into semidarkness. Only the fluorescent light over the bar area remained on. He opened the door, stood to one side and waited for Blythe. She walked outside, hesitating momentarily at the wrought iron gate that opened directly onto the private drive behind the condos. He placed his hand on the small of her back.

  Then he realized, too late, that he shouldn’t have touched bet. He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted her to stay, to spend the night in his arms.

  “You don’t have to leave, you know.” He spread his fingers open wide, touching her lower back and the upper curve pf her buttocks. “You could stay.”

  Turning slowly, she stared up at him and saw the undisguised raw passion in his brown eyes, eyes so dark and deep they appeared black. “Do you want me to stay?”

  “Yes, I want you to stay.” He growled the words.

  She swallowed hard, wondering if she’d lost her mind. “This is crazy, Adam. We’re crazy. You want me to stay, and... I want to stay”

  Sweeping her up into his arms, he lowered his head and claimed her lips in a kiss of total possession. She clung to him, returning the kiss with eagerness. Taking her back inside his condo, he closed the door behind them and shut out the reality both of them had momentarily forgotten.

  He carried her into his dark bedroom. A faint, gray light shimmered in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Shadows fell across the gold-and-black striped coverlet, wavered on the golden cream-colored wall and encompassed the room in a seductive quiet.

  Adam laid Blythe down on the bed, then stood over her, staring at her. Suddenly she felt very small and totally helpless.

  “Adam, maybe we’re—” She started to say that maybe they were making a mistake, a big mistake, but before she could finish the sentence, he leaned over and kissed her. His mouth was hard and hot and moist.

  She returned the kiss, draping her arms around him and trying to drag his body onto hers. Even though she had never made love with a man, she wasn’t totally inexperienced. She’d felt passion before, had known what it was like to want a man, but nothing had prepared her for this uncontrollable need.

  He came down over her, kissing her until she couldn’t breathe, until she thought she’d die from the pleasure of being so completely consumed. He slipped his big hand beneath her, seeking and finding the zipper pull at the back of her dress. Easing open her lavender linen dress, he lifted her body just enough to insert his hand inside the waistband of her lace half-slip.

  When he delved his hand inside her lavender bikini pant es and made contact with her naked buttocks, Blythe groaned against his marauding lips. He nuzzled the side of her neck and whispered her name. She trembled. He sighed.

  He brought her hand to his shirt, encouraging her to unbutton it. Slowly, hesitantly at first, she began to undress him while he tugged her dress off her shoulders and down to her waist. All the while, he kept touching her, kissing her, talking to her.

  “You’re so little, babe. So delicately made. So fragile. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She threw his shirt on the floor, then drew in a deep breath when she looked at his wide, naked chest. Heavily muscled, covered with dark curling hair, his body beck oned her touch.

  “You’re beautiful,” she said, then laid her hand on his washboard-lean stomach.

  Adam sucked in his breath. His sex hardened. He lifted himself up and off the bed, then divested himself of the remainder of his clothes.

  Blythe had never seen a fully aroused man, but she didn’t hink all men looked like Adam Wyatt. He was big, deeply canned, powerfully built and overwhelmingly male. She swallowed hard, and for one split second wondered if she was woman enough for such a man.

  But the moment he lay down beside her and took her in his arms, all doubts and uncertainties vanished like snow melting in the warm sun.

  “I want to look at you,” he told her when he unhooked the front closure of her lavender bra.

  She nodded her head, wishing she was more experienced. How long was it going to take him to figure out that this was her first time? And if he did, would he stop? If he called a alt to things now, she didn’t think she could bear it.

  He spread the bra apart and gazed down at her small, firm breasts. “Perfect,” he said, then covered them with his hands, gently kneading them, circling her nipples with his palms.

  She shivered. Her femininity tightened. Lowering his mouth, he teased one nipple while he stroked its mate to a point between his thumb and forefinger. Lifting her hips off the bed, she slid her arms around his waist and pressed herself intimately against him.

  His mouth and hands moved over her swiftly, taking a speedy inventory of every luscious inch from face to toes, as he discarded the remainder of her clothes. Blythe succumbed to her own desire to fondle him, to discover the secrets of his manhood. They explored each other with a hunger neither could deny nor restrain. The fever burning hot inside them blazed out of control.

  “I can’t wait.” He panted the words against her breast. “Next time, we’ll go slower. I promise.”

  Blythe ached with such a wild need, she made no protest when he mounted her and sought entrance into her body. She was surrounded by him. By the bulk of his massive shoulders. By the aura of masculine power he possessed. By his hot, musky smell, his hypnotizing black eyes and the mesmerizing tone of his deep voice.

  “I want you,” was all she could say.

  She was warm and moist and willing, her arms holding him close, yet her body resisted his invasion. She was tight, so very tight. And he was on the verge of exploding. He had wanted her so badly, for so long, that being inside her was his only goal in life at this precise moment.

  Lifting her hips, he thrust into her, then stopped when he realized the truth. He’d thought she was experienced, that she’d had a legion of lovers.

  A hot, searing pain pierced her. Blythe gasped, tears filling her eyes. The pain didn’t matter. Nothing matt
ered, except making love with Adam.

  He partially withdrew from her. “Why didn’t you tell me, babe?”

  She bit her bottom lip, then swallowed her tears and reached up to caress his face. “Because I wanted you, and I was afraid that if you knew, you—”

  He silenced her with a kiss, plunging his tongue into her mouth at the same moment he delved deeply into her body, taking her completely. She groaned into his mouth, wanting the discomfort to end, but not wanting him to stop.

  He coaldn’t make it last, couldn’t take the time she needed, couldn’t give her complete pleasure this time. He took her quickly, wild with the need. His climax rocketed through him like blasts of dynamite. When the last aftershock subsided, he slid to her side, wrapped her in his arms and kissed her gently.

  Cuddling against him, she felt joyous at having given Adam such intense pleasure, and yet she felt bereft, wanting to experience that same earth-shattering ecstasy.

  “The next time will be for you. All for you,” he said. “I was too hungry for you, wanted you too desperately to make it perfect.”

  He caressed her hip while they lay together in each other’s arms. He thought about all the things he was going to do to her, all the wonderful things he was going to teach her. The first time, he’d lost control. The first time, she’d been a virgin.

  Adam jerked upright in bed. Blythe laid her hand on his back. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Are you all right?”

  The realization that he hadn’t used a condom hit him square in the gut. How the hell could he have been so stubid? He always took the proper precaution. Not once since his divorce had he made love to a woman without protec tion.

  “I’m okay,” he said, lying down beside her and pulling her into his arms. “Everything’s fine.”

  When he made love to her again—and he intended to make love to her all night—he’d make sure he didn’t take any more chances.