"What's up?" he said, planting his hands at his waist. He looked terrific. He'd worn jeans to the docks today. She tried to remember why, then dismissed it as unimportant. What was important was the way they looked on him, tight and worn and faded at strategic places. The sleeves of his blue work shirt were rolled back over his muscular forearms to the elbow. He looked good.
"Natalie?" He sounded as though he were choking.
"What? Oh." She dragged her gaze up to meet his. She smiled weakly. "This was my first day totally on my own. From dawn to dusk, from beginning to end. Without Mary."
He grinned. "Tough, huh?"
"That word doesn't begin to describe this day," she said with a wide gesture. She giggled. "I think I'm punch-drunk."
He sat down beside her and took her hand. "You want to order in some Chinese food?"
She closed her eyes. "Yes."
"I'll run you a bubble bath and while we wait for the food you can relax."
"Ohh," she breathed. "That would be heavenly."
"I've got a great bottle of wine upstairs."
"Yes."
"Then we could get naked and—"
Her eyes popped open. "What?"
He grinned unrepentantly. "I just wanted to see if you were paying attention." He patted her thigh and rose.
Natalie closed her eyes again. She heard him turn on the taps, heard the clink of bottles in the bathroom. She knew she should get up, but she was unable to move.
She felt herself being lifted, one arm under her knees, the other across her back. She smiled and looped her arms around his neck, but she kept her eyes closed. "This feels familiar," she said.
He laughed, a low sexy sound. "It doesn't feel at all familiar to me." He moved his fingers, and she realized they were brushing the sides of her breast. "There is a lot less of you."
She opened her eyes, and he set her on her bare feet. Her hands were on his forearms. The warm skin there was setting up edgy little feelings along her nerve ends. He was looking down at her with a small half smile on his face. His hands lingered at her waist.
Her heart accelerated as he lowered his head, angling his lips to hers. Her eyes drifted shut, savoring the sensations of his nearness. His body radiated heat that seemed to surround her, wrapping her in a warm cocoon, and his scent … his scent was virile and masculine and uniquely him.
The kiss was casual, nothing heavy and demanding. His mouth was warm and mobile, his tongue probing lightly past her parted lips.
But when she looked at him, she saw that his eyes were dark, almost black, and burned with emotion, and his breathing had grown shallow.
She held her own breath, unable to look away. He wanted her; the realization was heady.
"Do you need some help getting your clothes off?" he murmured against her lips.
She very nearly said yes. Her hunger for him was intense. But then she backed off. If this happened, it happened. But it would he better if it happened slowly.
She dropped her eyes to the second button on his shirt. "No, I can do it. I'll be out in a minute."
He waited for a minute, then he dropped his hands. "Take your time. I'll go upstairs and get the wine."
"All right. Oh!"
He was about to close the door behind him. He stopped.
"Would you leave the door open so I can listen for the baby?"
"Sure."
He had been heavy-handed with her bubble bath, she noted with a smile. She twisted her hair on top of her head and secured it with pins. Then she eased into the water. It was just the right temperature to soothe her tight muscles, and she sighed aloud with pleasure as she sank in up to her neck and relaxed.
In a few minutes she began to feel the knots loosen. She cupped her palms and lifted handfuls of bubbles, letting them slide down her arms. She piled mountains of suds on top of her bent knees and blew them off, made herself a beard and mustache as she had done when she was a child. She laughed softly.
And heard an answering laugh. "The mustache is fine, but don't you think the beard is a bit much?"
"Jake?" Embarrassed, spitting, she sank down again until the water reached her neck, although with all the bubbles he couldn't have seen anything.
He was leaning against the doorjamb, watching her make an idiot of herself. He held two glasses of wine, one of which he placed on the edge of the tub, and a rose from the garden, which he placed beside the glass.
"How charming," she said with a gentle smile. She picked up the pink rose and held it to her nose. The scent was sweet, the petals like velvet against her cheek. "Thank you, Jake."
Lifting his glass, he toasted her. "Have fun," he said and left, grinning.
Natalie sipped the wine and lay back again in the tub, but her eyes kept returning to the open door. At last she got out and dried herself off. She massaged jasmine-scented lotion into her skin, all over, and dusted herself lightly with powder.
She went to her drawer and took out a teal gown and matching peignoir, which she put on.
She looked at herself in the mirror, then took off the set and put on jeans and a big shirt. When she heard the doorbell she hurriedly pulled on a pair of socks, rejected the idea of shoes, brushed on some lips gloss and went to join Jake.
He was fishing money out of his pocket. He handed the delivery boy a wad of bills. "Here, thanks." He took the two white sacks.
"Thank you, sir."
"That smells great," said Natalie as she followed him to the kitchen. She buzzed around, clearing the infant seat off the table, gathering plates and napkins from the cabinets. "I'm starving."
"I figured you might be after your strenuous day," said Jake. "I ordered dinner for three. Did you bring your wineglass?"
"No, I'll get it. Where's yours?"
"Next to the sofa."
"This is delicious," said Natalie a short while later. The edge was off her appetite, but she was still eating. She wrinkled her brow. "You know, I'm not sure I ate any lunch."
Jake smiled and took a bite of pepper beef, wielding the chopsticks with dexterity. A bit of sauce escaped, and he caught it with his tongue.
Natalie watched, fascinated, remembering the night she had made hot chocolate.
Jake was well aware that she was watching. He was also well aware that she had scented herself with something very sexy. Obviously, though, she'd chickened out when it came to getting dressed.
However, he'd always found jeans very sexy. Particularly faded, well-worn, soft-from-washing jeans that fit as well as hers did. And that big man-tailored shirt probably didn't touch her anyplace below her shoulders. He wondered if she had on a bra. He wondered what color her nipples were—pink or rose or brown. He could imagine tracing a circle around her with his tongue…
"Want some more?"
His head jerked up. "What?"
She pointed with her chopsticks. "There's more sweet and sour."
He put a hand to his stomach, patted and rubbed it. "I'm full."
"I think I'll have some more, then. Sweet and sour is my favorite."
"Mmm," said Jake. He leaned back in his chair and picked up the glass of wine, studying her through the golden liquid.
The silence stretched as Natalie ate, and he looked on. She began to grow uncomfortable. She pushed back her plate, and dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. "That's enough for me, too." He had refilled her wineglass, and she picked it up to sip from it.
At last she sighed. "I feel human again. Thank you, Jake." She got to her feet, taking her glass with her. "I'll just straighten up in here. Why don't you go in the living room?"
He smiled, letting his lashes come down to hood his eyes. He looked completely relaxed and at ease; he looked at home. "We'll do the dishes together. Later." He set down his glass and reached out for her hand. He took her glass from her suddenly nerveless fingers and set it down, too. With this thumb he drew rings in her palm, stimulating nerves far beyond her hand—nerves in her spine, in the nape of her neck, her thighs. "Come here," he said.
His voice was deep and husky. "I've been dreaming of this for weeks."
She didn't withdraw her hand and he pulled her between his spread knees. When he covered her stomach with his big hand, she sighed. One broad hand splayed across her back, holding her in place, and the other moved around and around on the big shirt.
The crinkling sound of starchy fabric was not one which she would ever have associated with sensuality—the whisper of silk or the hum of satin were more provocative. But under his warm palm, the sound of cotton was as titillating as the rasp of a zipper. She let her forearms droop over his shoulders, and her head fall back. She sighed aloud as he reached up to scatter the pins in her hair and let it tumble down around her shoulders.
The soft sound was like a signal to him. He suddenly burrowed under the shirt with both hands. "Ahh," he said when he discovered only her soft skin beneath.
She inhaled sharply as his big hands closed around her breasts and began an ardent massage, shaping and reshaping. His fingers brushed lightly over her nipples, arousing them into buds of delight.
"I want to see you," he growled. He withdrew his hands and worked impatiently on the shirt buttons. Then he drew the sides wide apart, holding the fabric in his fists at the small of her back. "God, you're beautiful," he breathed as he drew her closer.
The first touch of his hungry mouth on her breasts provoked a small moan.
He lifted his head abruptly. "Did I hurt you?"
"No. Oh, no. It felt…" He pulled her forward again, and she couldn't go on. The sensation made her delirious. She tunneled her fingers into his dark, crisp hair, whether for support or to hold his head more firmly against her she didn't know. Probably some of each; her knees were certainly weak.
"How does it feel?" he murmured. "Tell me." His head dipped, and the brush of his mustache across her skin sent shivers across the round fullness of her breasts to her midriff.
"It—it tickles!" The word exploded on a burst of air.
At first he looked nonplussed, then he began to smile. The smile grew into a wicked, devilish, suggestive grin. "It tickles, huh?"
He dropped the tails of her shirt and reached for the snap of her jeans. The sliding zipper was cold against her bare skin. He kissed her belly, dipping his hot tongue into her navel. His mouth moved lower. She felt his breath on her acutely sensitive skin. He tugged her jeans from the back until they slid down to expose her bare bottom.
His head came up; he fixed her with a disbelieving stare. "Good God. You're not—"
"Wearing any underwear?" she answered softly.
He surged to his feet, his arms pinning her to his hard body, while his mouth came down to cover hers. The kiss was ravenous, and she clung to him, her head swimming in a misty pool of desire. "Oh, Jake," she murmured.
Jake swept her into his strong arms, leaving her jeans where they lay on the floor. With purposeful strides, he headed for her bedroom.
The light spilling from the hall was enough to illuminate his dark eyes when he set her on her feet and began removing his clothes. His hot gaze never left her, roaming restlessly from her face to her hair, to her breasts, to her thighs, to the soft brown curls at the juncture of her legs.
For a moment she felt shy and hesitant under the force of so much concentrated passion. The shirttails swung free as she sat on the edge of the bed to remove her socks. Then she folded back the spread and the blanket and the sheet, taking her time, fully aware of his eyes on her, watching every move. She finally let go of the sheet and gave him a faltering smile.
He had shed his shoes, socks and shirt. Now he paused with his hands on the waist of his open jeans and came to her beside the bed. "Natalie? Are you afraid?"
She shook her head. His face was in shadow, but she could feel his concern. "No, not afraid, just bashful. It's—it's been a long time for me."
He reached out to hold her shoulders; she looked up at him. "You haven't made love since—in over three years?" he asked gently.
"Three years and a pregnancy," she reminded him as a stain crept up her neck.
He wrapped his arms around her, and she laid her cheek on his broad chest, cherishing the feel of hard muscles beneath warm skin. She touched the black hair that swirled across the expanse, surprised that it was so soft and springy.
"We'll take it very, very slowly," Jake promised, stepping back. His lungs were burning, his arousal throbbed, he thought if he wasn't inside her soon he would explode. He struggled, fought and finally mastered his desire—and he was shaking with the effort.
He nudged the collar of the shirt she wore aside with one finger. He smiled encouragingly and she dropped the shirt off her shoulders, leaving her beautiful body bare to his gaze. He realized that she had seen his shaking hand, and he smiled, tenderly. "Although taking it slowly may kill me," he said ruefully.
She reached up to cradle his jaw. "I'm a little self-conscious, Jake, but I'm a woman, too. You don't have to handle me like a piece of crystal." She lifted herself on tiptoe and kissed him.
"Very much a woman, a warm, sensationally sexy woman." His voice resonated from deep within his chest. He took off his jeans and together they lay down on the fresh cool sheets, facing each other. His hand traced her arm from shoulder to elbow, then moved to her side where her waist dipped and rose to the flare of her hip.
Natalie gave a soft moan and moved closer, tilting her head, parting her lips in a conscious invitation. Her breasts brushed his chest.
His mouth covered hers, his tongue delving, exploring, while his hands moved slowly over her, finding all the wonderful intimate places to give her pleasure. Her blood was moving slowly, thickly through her veins, like sweet honey. She raked her nails lightly over his back and heard the satisfying growl of reaction.
Suddenly he moved above her, nudging his manhood against the wet, warm center of her yearning. She felt the passion in the tension of his body, smelled their desire, heard him call her name softly. Her hips came off the bed to meet him and he entered her with one sure thrust.
Jake froze, holding himself motionless until she adjusted to having him inside her. But it took a Herculean effort. He wanted to drive into her, impress himself on her, so that she would always remember this moment. She was tight, oh, God, so tight, so wet and hot.
She moved beneath him, demanding with her body language, her hips rotating hungrily. Here it was, the sensuality that he'd always suspected lay deep within her ladylike facade. But he couldn't—
"No, wait—baby!"
He made a fist in her hair, held his breath. And then he felt her muscles seize him, climax around her. God, he'd never felt … he threw his head back, ground his teeth, clenched his jaw and broke into a million fragmented pieces. His knees buckled and he collapsed on top of her, gasping for breath.
Natalie was still in the throes of the most passionate climax she'd ever experienced. Her body shuddered, trembled, reveling in the weight of him.
Jake rolled to his side, hauling her on top of him, his hands moving restlessly up and down her back. His chest was like a bellows beneath hers; they both were desperately dragging in air and expelling it in quaking sighs. It was long moments before either of them could speak.
He lifted his head off the mattress and dipped his chin to look at her sprawled on him. He had to clear his throat. "You are something, you know it?"
She propped her chin on her folded hands and smiled at him. Her eyes were drowsy with passion; her lips were swollen and ripe. "How so?"
He let his head fall back, rolled it from side to side. "How? So neat, so feminine, nurturing and womanly. So passionate, so exciting and earthy."
She made a satisfied little sound and rubbed her cheek against him. "Thank you."
He combed through her hair, lifting the gold and silver strands and letting them fall again. Her hands strayed over his chest, memorizing the shape and placement of his muscles. The clock on the bedside table ticked away the minutes.
"Can you reach the covers?" he asked, his voice
slow and sleepy.
"Umm." She felt around her feet and yanked the sheet and blanket up over them. They slept like exhausted children.
At 3:00 a.m., Annabelle woke up for her bottle. Natalie got up and put on the shirt she had worn earlier. She changed and fed and burped the baby, yawning all the time. Annabelle went right back to sleep.
When Natalie returned to her bedroom, however, Jake was waiting. With a grin he lifted a corner of the covers so she could climb back in beside him.
* * *
Chapter 10
« ^ »
Morning dawned too soon. Annabelle awoke again at seven.
Natalie reluctantly but carefully lifted the warm arm that curved around her waist and rolled silently out of bed. She picked up the shirt she'd discarded earlier. As she slid her arms into the sleeves, she paused for a last longing look at the large masculine form in her bed.
It had been an astonishing night. She'd been married to a man she loved very much, but Joseph had never brought her to the level of arousal she'd encountered with Jake. She hadn't known she could be swept away so completely, so totally, that she could be so eclipsed by passion and sensation.
Jake rolled to his back, twisting the sheet across his hard body. His chin was shadowed with an overnight growth of beard; his hair was rumpled. But the lines of tension on his brow, around his mouth, lines that he'd worn for months, had eased. He was sleeping soundly. And he looked altogether sexy.
She went into the second bedroom and picked up the baby, who quieted for a moment at the sound of her voice. Natalie changed her diaper, gave her another bottle, played with her for a few minutes and finally put her down in the playpen.
She planned to sneak a quick shower while the baby was happy.
She tiptoed back into her room, opened a drawer, withdrew what she needed and closed it silently. She couldn't mute the click of the closet door, though.
At the sound, Jake sat up suddenly in bed, the sheet falling around his hips. "What?" he said, tense and disoriented. When he saw her his body relaxed and he scraped a hand down his face. "God, I haven't slept like that in a long time."
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