by Beverly Long
“Oh, my God,” he whispered, running his fingers across her naked body. She shivered, and he gave her a smug smile. Then he bent down, kissing first one breast then the other.
“I need you.” She arched her back, pressing her nipple into his mouth. She would beg soon.
He sucked her, sending shivers from her breast all the way to her very core. When he pulled back, he moved his strong hands under each thigh, pulling her legs wide. He moved his mouth down her stomach, coming finally to the place where she needed him most. She forgot about being embarrassed, forgot about wanting to please him, forgot about being ladylike, and she simply enjoyed. She took and took from him, the pressure building inside of her until it burst out of control, the waves of pleasure slamming through her.
He held her. He stretched out next to her and pulled her close, his arms wrapped around her. With every ounce of strength she had left, she threw one bare leg over his.
Oh, my God. She’d come apart, and he still had every stitch of his clothes on. Sensing her distress, he held her just a bit tighter. “Relax, sweetheart. It’ll be my turn soon.”
“But that’s not fair,” she protested, her voice weak.
“You don’t have any idea, do you, what it does to a man to have a woman do that for him? To know that he’s brought her pleasure?”
She realized he sounded just a bit smug.
She let him enjoy it for just a moment, then she reached up and slipped a hand underneath his T-shirt. When her fingers crossed his nipples, she rubbed the tiny nubs. Breath hissed out from between his lips. He had his eyes closed. She trailed her finger down his stomach, following the line of hair. She ran her fingers across his jeans, tracing the ridge of his erection. He arched his hips off the bed. “Oh, sweetheart. You make me feel like a sixteen-year-old again.”
His confession gave her courage. She moved quickly, straddling his hips with her legs. She rubbed against him, and he reached up, stilling her. But she wouldn’t be stopped. She pulled his T-shirt up. Then she moved down so that her knees touched his. She unsnapped his jeans and pulled his zipper down slowly. He literally groaned.
“I’m a dead man,” he said. She laughed. Then with a sure hand on each side of his hips, she pulled his jeans and briefs down.
She made love to him. Her fingers, her lips, skimmed his body, teasing, caressing. When she wrapped her hand around him, his whole body jerked, coming inches off the bed.
“I want to be inside of you,” he said.
“I want that, too,” she answered.
With one swift movement, he gently flipped her onto her back. He positioned himself above her and gently pushed himself into her. He held himself back, allowing her body to stretch, to adjust to him.
“Oh,” she said.
He kissed her face, soft, gentle brushes of his lips. “It’s okay. Just a little bit more.”
She forced herself to relax and to take him.
“Perfect,” he said, his voice a mere whisper.
And then he started to move. Within minutes, she shattered once again. Barely before she could catch her breath, he pounded into her, faster and faster, until his whole body tensed, and with one last powerful thrust, he exploded inside her.
For long minutes, there was no sound at all in the room. Then, with a sigh, he lifted his weight off her. He kissed her—a long, gentle kiss. Then he carefully pulled away from her, then fell onto his back in a clumsy movement. He threw one bent arm over his forehead. “That almost killed me,” he said.
It was hard to keep the smile off her face. Now who was feeling smug? she thought.
“I liked it,” she said. “Can we do it again?”
He opened one eye and stared at her. “You liked it? You liked it?” he repeated. “People like apple pie and long walks on the beach.”
“I like cherry pie and long walks in the woods. A lot. But trust me on this—I don’t like either one of those things as much as I liked this.”
“This almost gave me a heart attack.”
“I know CPR,” she said. She boldly wrapped her hand around him, winking at him when he immediately responded.
“Oh, baby.” He flipped her onto her back and proceeded to make her own heart race not once but several times over.
Chapter Fourteen
Sawyer woke up happy and warm. Liz slept on her side, her naked body wedged up against him, her bare back against his chest. He had an arm wrapped around her, and her breast filled his hand.
He moved just a bit. She stretched in response. He let go of her breast, pulled his arm back and gathered her long hair in his hand and moved it out of the way. Then he gently kissed the back of her neck. “Good morning,” he said.
“I’ll give you a dollar if you make coffee,” she said.
He laughed. “I’ll give you five dollars if you make breakfast.”
She rolled over and laid on her other side, facing him. “I’ll give you my last twenty if you’ll make love to me again.” She winked at him.
“Your last twenty? What happens then?”
“I’m hoping you’ll take pity on the poor. I could be your own personal charity.”
He rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him. “I’ve been known to be a very generous man in the past. Giving of my own personal assets.”
“Donate away, baby,” she said.
And he did.
And later—much later—when they finally stumbled into the kitchen, it was closer to lunch than breakfast. “Be careful,” she said.
He thought the warning probably saved him a broken leg. He’d surely have tripped over the piles of soup cans, cereal boxes, pots and pans, glasses, silverware and cleaning products scattered on the kitchen floor.
“I like to clean when I’m nervous,” she said. “I had some time to kill yesterday between when Mary left and you arrived.”
“Anything left in the cupboards?”
She shook her head. “Nope. I’m nothing if not thorough.”
“Next time you get really nervous, come to my house. My cupboards haven’t been cleaned since I moved in.”
“Yuck. Sounds gross.”
She started coffee and he started lunch. For the first time in seventeen years, he started to think about a future.
“I’m going to go take a shower,” she said.
“Okay.” Good. He needed time alone, time to sort out his thoughts.
He loved her. He loved her playfulness, her sense of humor, her dedication to her clients, her willingness to help others. He loved her body.
She had wanted commitment and marriage from another man. She didn’t expect it from him. He was, in her words, just passing through. He flipped the grilled cheese with more force than necessary, sending it flying out of the pan. It landed on the counter. He picked it up, dusted it off and returned it to the skillet.
Just maybe, he wanted a little commitment.
He opened a can of tomato soup. By the time it was hot, Liz had not only returned to the kitchen but he also had a plan.
“If you don’t have anything else to do today,” he said carefully, “I thought we might go to Navy Pier. You like Ferris wheels?”
“I love Ferris wheels. But I can’t. I have to get my office organized at OCM. I’d brought a lot of my files here. I’ll need them back at work when we reopen.”
Okay. She wasn’t saying no just to say no. She had a commitment to work. He knew how important her work was to her. That was one of the things that made this perfect.
“You really like your job, don’t you?” he asked.
“I love my job. Just like you
love yours.”
Yeah, Sawyer thought as he poured himself a second cup of coffee. Liz didn’t need all those things that he couldn’t give. She didn’t seem concerned about her biological clock like most of the women he’d met over the years. She’d mentioned wanting children, but that was before. Now she had her career. A job she loved. One that she was passionate about.
He wouldn’t get in the way. He’d make sure she understood that he didn’t intend to disrupt her work. That he valued her dedication. He’d also make sure she realized they weren’t ships passing in the night. He’d convince her that she could have both a career and a relationship with a man.
She’d wanted marriage at one time. He’d give her time to adjust to the idea again, and then once she saw that it could work between the two of them, he’d pop the question.
But for now, he’d give her space. He got up from the table, intending to put the dishes in the dishwasher.
“We didn’t use my condoms,” she said.
She spoke so matter-of-factly, as if she might be discussing the weather or what to have for dinner. He felt the world tilt, causing all the good and beautiful things that had happened last night to slide together, combining into a dark and ugly mess. He held on to his dirty plate tightly, afraid that he might drop it.
He should tell her now. He should have told her before. But now, if she had questions or concerns, it was the right thing to do.
No. He hadn’t had a chance to win her over, to convince her of his love.
“I just want you to know that I think the chances are pretty good that we’re safe. But if I’m wrong and I am pregnant, I won’t expect anything from you. I can handle it myself.”
Tell her, you fool. Tell her. “You’ll let me know?” he asked.
“Of course. I’d never hide something like that.”
Coward. “No problem. I’m sure it will be fine. I’ll call you later today.”
* * *
“HE’S NOT GOING to call,” Liz moaned, her head resting in her cupped hand. It was late afternoon, and she’d worked like a dog all day, trying to reestablish connections with all her clients.
“It’s been five hours,” she said, looking at the clock.
Jamison walked past her office. He poked his head in, looking around. “Who are you talking to?”
“Myself.”
“Fascinating. By the way, Sawyer called.”
“What?”
“You must have been on your phone. It rolled over to my line. I told him you’d call him back.”
“Oh.” She’d been waiting all day, and now that he’d finally called, she didn’t know what she was going to say to him.
“Snap out of it, girl,” Jamison said. “Just remember. Play a little hard to get. It’ll make you more interesting.”
“Really?”
“I read it in one of Renée’s magazines.”
She was about ready to try anything. She picked up the phone and dialed.
“Montgomery.”
“Hi, Sawyer. It’s Liz.”
“Hi. Thanks for calling. Is this a bad time?”
“No, it’s fine. Jamison and I were...we were just discussing a case.”
“Everything okay with Mary?”
“Yes. Thanks for asking.”
There was an awkward moment of silence. Could that be the only reason Sawyer had called? She felt the loss, the sense of disappointment spread through her body.
“I was wondering if you’d have time for a late dinner tonight. I know you’re busy and all.”
Play a little hard to get. Jamison’s advice rang in her ears. Hell. It would be hard to pull that off when she threw herself at him later. “I’d love to.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
Come naked. “I’ll be ready.” Liz hung up the phone.
When Mary walked by unexpectedly ten minutes later, Liz still stared at her blank computer screen, unable to get much past the fact that in just a few short hours, she’d have another opportunity to seduce the very serious Sawyer Montgomery.
“Hi, sweetie,” she said when the young girl dropped into the chair in front of her desk. “How are you?”
“I’m starting to waddle.”
“It always looked good on Donald and Daisy.”
“I saw the doc this morning. He thinks the baby is already over seven pounds.”
No wonder she beamed. “Good. Your due date is coming up fast.”
“I know. I’ve been a real pain about this adoption thing. I know you’ve been worried that time is going to run out. I’ve made up my mind.”
“That’s wonderful, Mary. I know it’s been difficult. What do you want to do?”
“I’m giving her up for adoption.”
“Her?”
“They did an ultrasound. The doc is ninety-nine percent sure the baby is a girl.”
“And you’re sure? About the adoption?” In her heart, she believed the decision was best for Mary and for the baby. Mary probably knew that, as well. Knowing it and acting upon it were two different things.
“Yes. I’m too young to raise a baby. I need to go back to school and get an education. I don’t want to work in some stupid job my whole life. I’m going to go to college. Maybe that’s selfish, but that’s what I want.”
“It’s not selfish, Mary. You’re young. You have hopes and dreams. College is one way to make those things a reality.”
“You know what made me decide adoption was the right thing?”
“What?”
“I was thinking about all those things, and then I realized that I wanted my baby to have all the same things. But I’d never be able to give her that. That’s what made me decide.”
Mary wiped a tear off her face. Liz hoped she could be strong for both of them. “I’ll contact our attorney. We’ll get the paperwork done immediately.”
“No.”
“But, Mary, you just said—”
“You didn’t let me finish. I’m giving her up for adoption under one condition. I want you to adopt her.”
Liz felt the floor tip. “Mary. Sweetheart. I...I’m flattered. Really. But I can’t possibly adopt your child.”
“Why not? You already have your education and you have a great job. You’re home at night and on the weekends. You live in a safe apartment. You can give her everything she’ll need.”
She could. But that wasn’t the point. “Mary,” she said, not sure where to begin. “Any number of people have the means to provide for a child. That does not mean that they would be good parents.”
“I know that. You couldn’t grow up in my house and not realize that. But with you, it would be different. You would be such a great mom.”
A mom. A single mother. A statistic. A concern.
But those were the black-and-white facts and figures. Liz knew better. While it wasn’t a perfect solution, single mothers were quite capable of raising great, well-adjusted kids. But could she do it?
She hadn’t thought about babies for herself. At least not since it had become abundantly clear that Ted never intended to marry her. While they’d been engaged, she often thought about the children she hoped to have. They’d talked about it. But when she’d finally stopped waiting for him, she’d stopped thinking about children, never considering pursuing motherhood on her own.
Why not? Why the heck not? Mary was right. She had a good job. Even if OCM wasn’t around forever, she had the background and the credentials to land another job quickly. She had a nice savings account courtesy of her previous work. She was healthy and strong. She was—
“But the most important thing,” Mary said, interrupting her thoughts, “is that you’ll love her. And she’ll love you.”
Now Liz and Mary were both crying.
“Oh, Mary. Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. More sure about this than anything. Please say you’ll do it.”
It wasn’t really much of a decision. How could she say no? She loved Mary. By default, she loved the baby that Mary carried. She had a connection to this baby that would carry her through the difficult months to come. She could do this. She wanted to do this.
What would Sawyer think? Did it matter? She knew it did. They’d never even discussed children. There’d been no need to. She hoped he’d be happy for her, that he’d understand what a gift Mary had given her.
“I’d be honored, Mary. I will love her and care for her. When she grows up, I’ll tell her about her biological mother and what a wonderful young woman she was.”
Mary wrapped her arms around Liz. “Thank you. Now I know everything will be okay.”
* * *
LIZ HAD A THREE-PAGE LIST by the time her hand cramped up, and she was forced to lay down her pen. So much to do and so little time. She had to get the spare bedroom decorated. She needed a crib, a car seat. Clothes. She needed to tell Jamison. He’d be worried about the appearance of things. After all, someone on the outside looking in would say it was unethical for a counselor to adopt the child of one of her clients. But that was the legal mumbo jumbo. On paper, it might look weird. In her heart, Liz knew it made perfect sense. She also knew that once Jamison got past his shock, he’d do everything he could to help her.
She didn’t want to wait another minute to do it. She walked up the stairs to his office. He sat at his desk, calmly reviewing the budget numbers, not having any idea that she was about to upset his world. She almost felt sorry for him.
“I just talked to Mary Thorton. She’s agreed to put her baby up for adoption.”
“That’s probably a good decision on her part.”
“Yes. Here’s the kicker, Jamison. She wants me to adopt the baby.”
He pushed his chair back from the desk. “You told her no, I assume.”