by Rachel Lee
He took liberties with her, teaching her new things about her body, and she loved every sensation. Then he released her hands, and just as she thought she was about to become an active participant, he lifted her hips and slid into her from behind. She cried out with pleasure as his erection stretched her, filled her, answered the need that seemed to have always been there. Then his hand slipped around in front and cupped her, his fingers spreading her and teasing that hypersensitive nub of nerves.
She felt utterly possessed, utterly beautiful, utterly wild as he pumped into her from behind and lifted her higher and higher until her entire body felt as taut as a bowstring.
She hardly heard her own moans, in thrall to the roaring waterfall of feelings that was sweeping her away into unknown territory.
And then, in an instant, she arched, almost hurting as the orgasm ripped through her from head to toe.
He didn’t give her long. Didn’t allow her to collapse. Before she felt the descent to peace, he’d rolled over, bringing her with him, lifting her until she straddled his hips.
“Ride me,” he said hoarsely.
His hands gripped her hips, guiding her until he once again filled her. She threw her head back, thrilled, feeling the tension building in her all over again. His hands urged her on until the rhythm became perfect. The ache in her rose impossibly until she shattered in satisfaction.
And this time she felt him join her, felt the sheer delight of him jetting into her, pumping more strongly, then finally easing until he drew her down on his chest.
* * *
Amber couldn’t move a muscle. She rested on Wyatt feeling as if the last strength had been drained from her, but also feeling more content than she ever had in her life.
She never wanted to move again. Never before had she felt what Wyatt had just made her feel. Never. She wished it never had to end.
But finally, as the perspiration on her body began to dry, she felt chilled. Almost as if he sensed it, Wyatt lifted her easily to the side of the bed. Then he sat up and tugged her gently until she followed him to the bathroom.
Once there, he turned on the water in the shower then held her close, saying nothing, his face in her hair while she buried hers in his shoulder. After a few minutes, he reached out to test the water, then drew her into the large cubicle with him, putting her right under the comfortably hot spray.
She opened her eyes and saw him smiling at her, an almost wistful smile. Without a word, he began to soap her from her shoulders to her feet. She spared a moment to be grateful the enclosure was so big, because she wouldn’t have wanted to miss a single sensation.
Each silky sweep of his hands and the bar of soap seemed to refresh her and excite her anew. When he had done both sides of her, taking his time, he turned her to face him, and now his smile was wider. “Feel good?”
She took the bar of soap from him. “Let’s see.”
He was a magnificent man, she thought as she ran her hands all over him, admiring the strength of his arms and shoulders, the power of his chest, the narrowness of his hips. Feeling a bit wicked, she spent some extra time on his privates until finally his hands reached for her head.
“Witch,” he said. “Stop.”
She laughed and did as he asked. After all, there were still his perfectly formed legs. When he turned around to let her soap his back, she paused.
“Wyatt? This scar...”
“I was in Afghanistan for a while,” he answered. “It wasn’t the safest place on earth.”
“You never said!”
“I wasn’t allowed to.”
The thought disturbed her, driving away the growing net that desire had been casting over her. He faced her immediately. “It’s okay,” he said, then pulled their slick bodies together for a deep kiss.
It was over. He rinsed them both and then stood her on the large mat while he briskly toweled her dry. He gave her an extra towel to wrap around her wet head and grabbed one to tuck at his waist.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“For what?”
“For breaking the mood. I shouldn’t have said...”
He laid a finger over her lips. “You didn’t do anything wrong. No apologies, please. We just spent some time in heaven. Unfortunately our feet have to hit the ground again.”
She nodded, knowing he was right but hating it anyway. She wanted that heaven again, wanted to never let go of it, no matter how unreasonable she was being. Summoning a smile, she decided to keep that to herself.
She didn’t want him to feel bad, not after what he had given her.
* * *
She wrapped herself in her bathrobe, and Wyatt donned his own, a rich burgundy color that suited him. Together they went downstairs.
“I have a theory we need to try,” he said.
“Which is?”
“That maybe if you eat something before you go to bed the morning sickness won’t be so bad.”
“I’m willing.” She balanced the towel that was still wrapped around her hair.
“That’s going to make it hard to sleep tonight,” he remarked as he saw the gesture.
“I do have a blow dryer,” she said wryly.
“Then let me do it for you after we eat.”
He pulled out the toaster, suggesting they stick with toast and jam. “Who knows when morning sickness starts, but we’re getting close.”
She looked toward the digital clock on the microwave, and surprise jolted her. “Where did the time go?”
“I think we were having a good time.” He winked, enjoying it when she blushed faintly.
“A very good time,” she agreed huskily. “The best time ever.”
Man, did that make him feel good. He could identify with a conqueror of old. He busied himself making the toast, hating the interruption but hoping she’d feel better in the morning if she didn’t wake with a completely empty stomach.
At last he was able to put a stack of toast and a selection of jams on the table, along with a glass of milk for her. Instead of sitting across from her, however, he sat right beside her.
Much as he’d wanted her all those years ago, he wanted her more now. He hoped to God he hadn’t just made a big mistake that would hurt both of them.
Conversation had died away. Far from wanting to talk, it was as if the haze of desire was growing around them again, making speech difficult as thoughts ran along racier paths.
After he got a couple of pieces of toast into her, he guided her back upstairs. “Get your blow dryer,” he said. “You’ll sleep with me tonight?”
The expression on her face made his heart skip a couple of beats. “Of course,” she answered softly.
Yeehaw, he thought. Better than racing around mountain curves at high speeds on his motorcycle. Better than anything.
She brought her crackers, too, and soon he had her sitting in the rocker near the bed, running her brush through her hair as he used the dryer. She’d never worn her hair long, so the job was easy. Soon her bob was sleek and smooth again.
“That was a treat,” she said when he switched off the blow dryer. “Do you do this often?”
“I’ve never done it before for anyone.”
He came around to stand in front of her, smiling and holding out both hands. “Sleep,” he said. “You need it.”
“If we can,” she retorted, making him laugh.
Naked, they crawled under the covers together, and soon Wyatt was spooning Amber from behind. He would have made love to her again, as passion rebuilt in him throughout every cell, humming until he felt he was connected to an electrical circuit.
But it was late. The digital alarm clock warned him in red numbers, and the doctor had said she needed her rest. So he kissed her hair and the nape of her neck, murmuring, “Sleep, Amber. There’s
always tomorrow.”
It was a promise he wondered if he would be able to keep.
* * *
Curled up with her back against Wyatt, Amber allowed the good feelings to flow. It seemed like almost forever since she had last felt anything approaching this happiness and contentment. Even during the first heady days with Tom, she was quite sure she had never felt like this.
Wyatt had satisfied her at levels Tom had never even tried to reach, and then afterward, instead of bundling her on her way, he had taken care of her needs, from a shower to food.
The years collapsed, and she remembered Wyatt as he had been in law school, extremely attractive, wonderfully confident and always helpful and kind. He’d been remarkable then, and from what she’d seen, the years had only made him more so.
He was blessed with a judicial temperament, and she wondered if the people here had any idea how fortunate they were to have him on the bench. She’d seen enough judges in her day to tell a good one from a bad one.
But as he’d shown her, he was also full of passion. Wyatt cutting loose was magnificent.
She smiled into the dark and wiggled backward a little to get closer to him.
“Keep that up and there won’t be any sleep,” he mumbled.
She smiled into the dark, but a heaviness began to fill her, too. She couldn’t remain Wyatt’s dependent forever, and while he had offered marriage, she was sure he hadn’t thought it through. To be father to another man’s child? Maybe he could. But it remained, she had to build a future for herself, and there didn’t seem to be a whole lot of opportunity for lawyers around here.
She pushed the sad thoughts aside, however. There was always tomorrow, as he’d said. For now she just wanted to cherish the glow.
Chapter Ten
The instant she sat up in the morning, nausea washed over Amber.
“Oh, God,” she said and flopped back down.
Wyatt was still beside her. He raised himself immediately on an elbow, looking down at her with concern. “I take it the toast last night didn’t help.”
She swallowed hard. “’Fraid not.”
“Crackers?”
“Give me a minute.”
It had been lying in wait for the moment she moved, she thought irritably. She’d opened her eyes, seen sunlight flooding through a crack in the curtains and she had smiled as memories of last night flooded her. Then, because she needed to answer the call of nature, she had sat up.
Morning sickness had pounced on her like a cat on a mouse. Now she was afraid to move, but she still needed to get to the bathroom.
“Crap,” she muttered.
“Conflicting needs?” he asked, as if he could read her mind.
“Yeah.”
He rolled out of the other side of the bed and came to perch right beside her, reaching for the box of crackers. He passed her a single cracker. “Try this while I get you some water to wash it down.”
It felt so wrong to be eating a cracker in bed. Crumbs. But Wyatt hurried into the bathroom to get water, and she obediently nibbled the dryness, hoping it would help. She didn’t want to get sick all over his bedroom rug, but there was something even more embarrassing likely to happen if she didn’t move soon.
He was back with the water before she had finished half the cracker and perched beside her again. “When you’re ready, raise your head as far as you dare.”
She shoved the remainder of the cracker into her mouth and chewed. It seemed to stick in her throat, so she lifted her head to sip water and immediately regretted it.
Her head flopped back on the pillow.
“Wyatt...”
“I get it. Hold on a sec.”
He grabbed a wastebasket from the bathroom and returned waving it. “In case,” he said cheerfully enough. “Now let’s get you on your feet. Don’t worry about a thing.”
He helped her out of bed. Her stomach roiled so much that she hardly cared they were both naked as jaybirds. With his arm around her waist, the wastebasket in front of her, he guided her into the bathroom and helped her sit. He put the basket in front of her feet.
“I suppose,” he said, “you’d like privacy for this.”
“Yup,” she said, forcing the word out.
He closed the door, leaving her alone with her misery. God, this was awful. Was it this bad for most women? How many more weeks...
But eventually she got the cracker all the way down, with the help of the water Wyatt had left on the edge of the sink. Even just that little bit helped enough to make it possible for her to stand.
Embarrassed by her own weakness, she eased back into the bedroom. Wyatt was waiting patiently, still standing. “Okay?” he asked.
“A little better.”
“Then how about we get you wrapped up and downstairs for some dry toast or fresher crackers.”
He helped her into her robe and slippers, then pulled on his own. This time he didn’t hold her hand as they went downstairs but kept her arm tucked firmly through his as if he was afraid she might fall.
“I know I can’t help it,” she said, “but this is embarrassing anyway.”
“Why? Apparently it’s perfectly normal. I’ve even heard that it’s a good sign. Regardless, this is the last thing that should embarrass you.”
In the kitchen—which had a tile floor, thank goodness—she reviewed her own situation with something between irritation and amusement. It was bad only at the very first, she admitted. Once she got a little something in her stomach, it eased, not totally going away, but it eased enough for her to carry on. She supposed she should be grateful for that.
But the idea that she might feel like she had a borderline case of stomach virus for weeks didn’t appeal to her.
“God,” she said finally.
“What?” He was brewing coffee and making toast.
“This is disabling.”
He turned to study her. “How so?”
“Well, while this is going on, I can hardly pop into my car and move on. I’m not sure I’d interview very well, as ill as I feel most of the day. I mean, it’s not intolerable except for first thing, but I can’t ignore it. I feel sick.”
He brought some of the toast and coffee to the table. “Milk?”
“Not yet,” she answered.
“Okay.” He sat across from her. “First of all, you don’t have to hit the road. I thought I’d made that clear. You’ll get past this. Maybe it won’t be this bad after a while. Regardless, just take it easy until you feel completely fit again. Then you can make your decisions.”
Not that she was in a hurry to go anywhere. She looked at the dry toast and wondered if she could handle it. Especially since last night. But being dependent rankled. She’d never been dependent before.
She also noticed that Wyatt hadn’t mentioned his proposal again. Was he just giving her space or regretting it? After last night, she’d hate to think he wished he’d never offered marriage. As shocking as it had originally seemed, after the lovemaking they’d shared, it didn’t feel shocking at all. She wanted to play with the idea, think about it, imagine a future being married to him before she made up her mind.
But if he was no longer interested...
She sighed.
“Penny?” he said.
She put her chin in her hand, arguing with herself. If she brought up the proposal, he might feel stuck. If she didn’t mention it, she might never know. Was it so important that she know? He could always bring it up again.
“Oh, heck,” she said finally. “Your proposal. Would you like to withdraw it?”
“I thought I’d made it very clear last night. I don’t leap into the sack with just anyone. The proposal stands. Why? Are you thinking about it?”
“Of course I’m thinking about it,”
she snapped. “How could I not think about it? It’s like telling me to ignore the elephant in the room.”
“Hmm,” he said, then a twinkle came to his eyes. “The elephant? I like elephants, but I’d also like my proposal to be a bit more attractive than that.”
“Oh, hush,” she said.
“Besides, you’re feeling pretty bad this morning. Not a time for thinking about much except getting through this.”
Except she was thinking about more than her morning sickness. Last night still flooded her senses and her mind. This morning his proposal sounded almost irresistible. At the same time, she had to decide from a position of strength, not weakness. It wouldn’t be fair to Wyatt to use him as a life preserver when she felt she was drowning.
“Amber? Just put it aside for now. My offer isn’t going away, so take your time, decide what’s best for you, okay?”
She nodded, but she was honestly beginning to wonder what was best for her. She’d been pursuing one goal for so long, and last month when she’d resigned from the firm, she’d felt her life had been totally upended, her prospects now limited. Partly because she’d have a child, but partly because leaving a firm after six months, no matter how good a recommendation they’d give to make sure she didn’t cause any trouble, still looked bad. Large law firms didn’t want to hire someone who might leave so quickly. There was just too much to learn about clients, and most such firms expected a lawyer to remain for many years, if not for the rest of their lives.
She had made herself look flighty, and everyone she sent a résumé to would wonder what was wrong with her.
She’d been wrecked the whole time she’d packed up to leave. But always at the back of her mind, little as she’d wanted to think about it, was the child growing inside her. Ninety-hour weeks were now out of the question. Even if she could afford a nanny for all those hours, at some level it struck her as wrong. If she brought a child into this world, she owed it more than material support. Much more.
And some wistful little corner of her mind had been pressing her more and more with a desire to see the first steps, hear the first word, enjoy the first smile. Yes, working women had to turn to day care. She got it. But not for ninety or a hundred hours a week.