Wife Wanted

by Christine Rimmer

  She stared at him, wide-eyed, amazed that he was putting into words the very choice she’d just been secretly pondering.

  “Everything’s been working out well, hasn’t it?” He spoke more of her own thoughts aloud, in a low, intense voice. “Everything’s been just the way you wanted it. Since we talked the other night, we’ve been getting along fine. I’ve respected your wishes. I’ve kept myself on the safe side of that invisible line you’ve drawn. But I really don’t want to stay on the safe side. I never made any secret of that.”

  She gulped.

  “Did I?”

  She shook her head.

  “You invited that kiss, just now.”

  “Um, I…”

  “Just admit it. You wanted to kiss me. And you did.”

  Slowly she nodded.

  “You crossed the line yourself. And I was the one who stopped it. Now I’m back where you put me, on the other side of the line from you. But if you give me any more encouragement, I’m not going to stay where you put me. I’m going to make love with you.” His voice had turned silky. It rubbed along her nerve endings, setting off sparks. “Do you understand?”

  She did. Perfectly. “Yes.”

  “But it’s your choice. So make it.”

  “I…”

  “Make your choice.”

  It was all so bewildering. On the one hand, she felt so comfortable with Rick, much more comfortable than she’d ever felt with Joel, or with any other man, for that matter. She and Rick seemed to approach life the same way. They agreed on so many things. And for the past couple of days, while they’d been getting along, when something needed doing, they’d both just pitched in until the task was accomplished. Life went smoothly when she was around him.

  Yet, on the other hand, Rick excited her. In frightening and overwhelming ways. Therein lay the danger. It would be so easy for him to mean too much to her.

  Joel Baines had hurt her deeply. But she feared that Rick Dalton could break her heart.

  He was through waiting for her to make up her mind. She could see it in his eyes.

  “Fine.” He set his glass on the coffee table and moved to rise. “I’ll go, then.”

  She put her hand on his arm, felt the heat and the tension. “No. Stay.” He went absolutely still. She whispered, “Please.”

  He sank back to the couch. “If I stay…”

  “I know.” She swallowed, and could hardly believe her own boldness when she said, “We’ll make love.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Yes.” The word came out not much more than a whisper. But he heard it. She knew that he did. She raised her glass. “To Grandma Kate.”

  He found his own glass, then met her gaze as he lifted it high. “To Kate.”

  They both drank.

  Eleven

  When she lowered her glass, Rick took it from her. He set it on the coffee table and set his own beside it.

  He knew she was uncertain about this. He could see it in her eyes. He should probably back off now, walk away, spare them both the possible consequences that making love could bring.

  But he wanted Natalie, had wanted her from the first, with a power and certainty that shocked the hell out of him. In a few days, she’d be leaving. Tonight might represent his only chance with her.

  And he’d be damned if he’d walk away from it.

  There was one more hurdle to get over: the problem any responsible man had to face, even though the price might be everything he’d just fought to gain.

  “I’m not prepared. I don’t have any—”

  She flushed bright red and cut in before he could finish. “It’s okay. I do. Upstairs. Joel and I, we used them. Sometimes. And I have some left.” She closed her eyes. “Oh, God.”

  He reached out, took her hand. “Don’t. It’s okay.”

  “I feel so—”

  “It’s really okay, Natalie.”

  She opened her eyes, looked down at their joined hands and then up at him. “It is?”

  He nodded. And then, very slowly, so as not to startle her, he touched her face with his free hand, traced her nose and her cheekbones, her brows and her lips. Her breath, against his fingers, was warm and a little ragged. Her lips moved under his touch. He leaned closer, breathing in the scent of her.

  And then he put his mouth where his fingers had been, over hers.

  Their second kiss was long and lazy. He explored her mouth, every inch of it, inside and out. She seemed to melt into him as he kissed her. And he gathered her close, feeling the softness of her breasts against his chest, tasting her more deeply.

  Eventually, to keep from moving too fast, he broke the kiss. He took her shoulders, held her away and made her look at him.

  Her sweet face was flushed, and her eyes were soft with a tender, bewildered desire. The sight increased his arousal, making him groan and pull her close again, hungrily reclaiming her mouth, loving the feel of her, so warm and firm and pliant to his touch.

  Her white shirt buttoned down the front. He went to work on those buttons, remembering all the nights since he’d come to her house when he’d lain alone in bed and gone crazy imagining doing just what he was doing now.

  Soon enough, he was smoothing the shirt open, revealing the necklace with the rosebud charm, as well as her lacy pink bra. He couldn’t resist. He lowered his head and kissed her, finding her nipple right through the bra.

  She moaned and arched toward him. He clutched her closer, then made himself loosen his grip a little, as he mentally counted to ten.

  “Rick…” She was looking at him, her face flushed, her eyes bright with need.

  The pink lace drew him like a magnet. He touched the small clasp between her breasts. She gasped. With a little maneuvering, he had it undone. Her soft lips were parted, and her breath came sweet and fast as he pushed the scrap of lace out of his way. He cupped her naked breast, which swelled invitingly, looking impossibly soft and round in his hand. And then he lowered his head and took it in his mouth.

  She cried aloud and surged up toward him. He laid her back along the couch, following her down, suckling her as she moaned and rubbed herself against him, and he realized he might go insane if he didn’t have her naked beneath him soon.

  His hand strayed down between them, seeking the soft, secret place between her thighs. Even through her cotton shorts, he felt the heat and wetness. He rubbed her, tauntingly, and she lifted herself to his hand. He felt for her zipper.

  And she grabbed his wrist.

  He pulled back, breathing hard, a hot stab of frustration piercing the haze of desire. If she’d changed her mind now…

  She was biting her lip. “What if Toby…?”

  And he knew she was right. They were crazy to go further here in the great room, with its bank of dark windows looking out on the night and his son just down the hall. They should find a more private place.

  “Your room?”

  She nodded. “But we should check on Toby first.”

  He agreed with that. He made himself sit back. Then he watched, aching, wanting to order her not to cover herself, as she straightened the clothes he’d undone.

  They tiptoed to Toby’s room and peeked in. He was fast asleep, facing toward the door. The sound of his breathing came to them, even and slow.

  On the floor, Bernie looked up, ears lifted, his big, wise eyes going from Rick to Natalie. And then, undoubtedly having decided that they needed nothing from him, he laid his head back on his paws and shut his eyes.

  Carefully Rick pulled the door closed. Natalie was right there at his side. The scent of her taunted him—flowers and musk.

  He pulled her to him. She came without resistance, giving him the soft length of herself, releasing one sweet, eager sigh. He put his hand at the small of her back and pressed her firmly into him, rubbing himself against her, imprinting his body on hers.

  She gave a little groan. He sipped the sound from her lips, shoving his fingers into the dark, fragrant silk of her hai
r and cupping her face, so that he could kiss her more deeply.

  For a suspended moment, she pressed herself close, and then she was grasping his wrists again, pulling back. He made a noise that could only be called a growl, and tried to pull her close again.

  She resisted. “Upstairs. Please, Rick…”

  And he let her lead him by the hand, to the stairs and up to her bedroom. She pushed the door open and pulled him inside.

  It was a big room, with a bay window that fronted the side lawn and another that looked out over the dark expanse of the lake. Through the haze of his hunger for her, he was aware of dark, expensive, old-fashioned furniture, of good silk rugs and a lace-canopied four-poster covered in a pale yellow, silky spread. She switched on a small lamp atop one of the cherrywood dressers.

  And then she fumbled in a drawer of that dresser. He knew what she was after. When she found the small packets, she closed the dresser drawer and turned to him, her eyes full of questions, enchantingly unsure.

  He approached her and took the packets from her. Then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

  She came stiffly against him at first, and then the melting began, as he covered her lips with his. Kissing her every step of the way, he took her to the bed. He set the condoms on the night stand. And then, with eager hands, he unbuttoned buttons, unhooked hooks, coaxing and cajoling until he’d taken all of her clothes away.

  Naked, she tried to cover herself. He took her hands, turned them over and kissed the soft inner swells at the base of her thumbs.

  “Oh, Rick…”

  “Just don’t hide. There’s no reason to hide. Not from me. Not ever.”

  “No man has ever made me feel like you do.”

  “Good.” He squeezed both of her hands, then stepped back. For a moment, he allowed himself to look his fill at soft, high breasts, a long sweep of waist, and the dark, shiny curls between slim legs. Then, swiftly, he began removing his own clothes.

  She watched him while he did it, her eyes wide and wondering. Once he was done, he reached for her again.

  And when the whole nude length of her touched him, he knew their first time was going to lack the finesse and tenderness he’d hoped to bring to it.

  He muttered her name, control slipping away, and then he kissed her, hard and deep. She returned the kiss eagerly, her sweet tongue mating with his.

  They fell across the bed. He touched her. She gave a mewling, needful cry and her body bowed up toward his hand.

  She was so wet, so silky and hot. And he couldn’t wait. He reached out, groping, until he found one of the condoms. By some miracle, he managed to roll it on over his straining hardness.

  And then he was settling between her soft thighs. He glanced down, into beautiful, wide, bewildered eyes. And he thrust in.

  She moaned. And she wrapped those long girl-next-door legs around him, lifting up to him like the swelling of the sweetest, most enveloping wave. And the rest was only the scent of her, the feel of her, the very center of her that, he knew as he surged in and out of her, he must somehow reach.

  After an eternity that passed in an instant, her body began rising toward climax. He felt her silky inner muscles, closing and opening around him, milking him. He heard her startled, ecstatic cry. And he was gone, lost, finished, falling into the trough of the wave, then rising to the crest on a final, triumphant shout.

  He emptied himself into her, emptied everything, pressing deep, pulsing hard, until there was nothing left but her softness all around him, cradling him, holding him close.

  For an immeasurable time after that, he lay limp and boneless on her soft, giving body. Then he asked in a whisper if he was too heavy.

  She sighed and shook her head.

  He levered upward and stroked the damp hair away from her brow. And then he couldn’t help kissing her, a kiss that was so immeasurably sweet, because her mouth gave to him, opening, letting him in.

  He slid to the side, pulling out of her, enjoying the way she clung to him, as if she didn’t want to let him go. And then he put his hand on her, partly in reassurance, and also because he wanted to make her rise to him again.

  And she did, swiftly, lifting her hips, crying out in that bewildered way that he’d already grown to love. As if she didn’t understand what was happening to her, as if, in spite of the fears that made her want to hold back from him, she couldn’t hold back—she was totally and completely his.

  Just as she hit the crest for the second time, he lowered his head and put his mouth where his hand had been, at the secret, pulsing heart of her. She shoved her fingers in his hair, holding him there and pushing herself up to him, frantic, helpless, shuddering endlessly. He wanted to kiss her like that forever, so deeply and intimately, to be lost for eternity in the sweet liquid center of her.

  She let go of his head with one final, quivering sigh. He lingered, still kissing her, until she pushed at him a little, sated, oversensitized now.

  With a final brushing caress of his lips on the pale skin of her belly, he left her just long enough to dispose of the used condom. Then he stretched out beside her, gathering her close, turning her so that she fit back against him, spoon-fashion.

  Her hair tickled his nose. He smoothed it, and pulled her closer. Then he closed his eyes. He felt the long sigh leave her body and knew she had closed her eyes, too. They drifted for a while, somewhere between dream and waking.

  But eventually, he started caressing her again, and then he reached for another condom. He slid into her smoothly, as if coming home. They rocked together, long, slow and deep. And this time, when the end came, he had no idea whether it started with him or in her.

  After a time, when their breathing had slowed, he left her once more, returning within minutes, finding her under the covers that time. He slid in beside her and pulled her against him.

  Held close in Rick’s arms, Natalie stirred.

  Rick drew her closer. “Hmm?” he asked in a heavy, sleepy voice. “Okay?”

  “Yes. I just…I have to go to the bathroom.”

  His arms loosened their hold on her. She slid from the bed, sensing that he watched her as she walked away, but not daring to look back and see whether she was right.

  In the blue-tiled bathroom, she switched on the light and relieved herself. Then, at the sink, as she washed her hands, Natalie couldn’t help looking at herself in the mirror. Her hair was all tangled around her face, which looked flushed and droopy-eyed. Her mascara had smudged under her eyes.

  She thought of the things she’d just done with Rick, in the other room. And her whole body hummed with remembered pleasure. She could hardly believe how it had been. Never in her life had she moaned and cried out like that—or had it go on and on, had it not really be over when she thought it was over. Never had a man so eagerly kissed her in such private places—and then wanted to keep on kissing her, even after it was clear that she’d achieved satisfaction.

  Really, now that she stood here in the harsh light of her own bathroom and played it over in her mind, it was all…just a little too good to be true.

  With a tiny groan that was part confusion and part embarrassment, Natalie pressed both hands to her cheeks, remembering that first day when Rick and Toby had come to stay at her house—that first day out on the boat, when Rick had almost kissed her, and she’d pulled away just in time. Had she known even then that one kiss was all it would take?

  It certainly seemed that way, because after that first kiss on the sofa in the great room, her logical mental processes had fled, leaving her pretty much brainless. All that had been left in her head was one thought: She wanted Rick, wanted to know what it would be like to lie in his arms.

  Now she knew. It was wonderful. Incredible. Better than anything she’d known before, in her admittedly limited experience of intimacy with men.

  But really, how well did she know Rick? Certainly not well enough to go to bed with him.

  She remembered what Joel had said to her, when he tol
d her it was over between them. You’re a nice woman, Natalie, and there’s no one more dependable. But I have to be frank. You’re not very exciting. And I think I deserve some excitement in my life….

  A little while ago, Rick had seemed pretty excited by her. But could she believe him?

  She and Joel hadn’t made love until they’d been dating for months and months. Rick had been in her house for mere weeks, and most of that time he’d spent treating her as if he hated her. For the past three days—count ’em, three—he’d been nice to her. And now he was lying in her bed, in the other room.

  Natalie’s cheeks felt as if they were on fire. She turned on the cold tap all the way and splashed the cool water on her face, rubbing her fingers under eyes to get rid of the smudges left by her mascara. Then, after scrubbing her face dry with a towel, she grabbed a brush from the counter and dragged it through her tangled hair.

  She was acting like a fool, she knew it. What was done was done.

  And it had been beautiful. It had. There was no reason she had to spoil it for herself with all these negative second thoughts. The thing for her to do right now was to pull herself together and go back to the other room.

  But she couldn’t quite do it. She paced back and forth across the blue tiles, approaching the door to the bedroom and then turning away from it, unable to reach out and twist the knob.

  Finally, with a long sigh, she sank to the edge of the tub and put her head in her hands.

  The knock on the door came just a few seconds later.

  “Natalie?”

  She longed to call out, “Go away!” but knew how utterly foolish that would sound.

  Slowly, the door swung inward. Rick was on the other side of it, naked as she was, a worried frown making a crease between his dark brows. His body was so fine, wide-shouldered, deep-chested, with long, strong legs and…

  Embarrassment flooded through her. She made herself look away, wondering what in the world she was doing here, in her own bathroom, with this incredibly handsome naked man. It wasn’t like her at all.

  As each moment passed, what had happened in the other room seemed more and more like a dream. Something not really real. Something from which she was now waking, to face the consequences of an act that she never should have allowed to happen.