Ashley huffed and clicked off her phone. "I'm just going to say this because I figure we're both thinking it anyway." She didn't continue until his gaze came to hers. "There's a faster way to do this."
Yes.
It was a way his body had already suggested.
And it wasn't going to happen.
Brayden ran his finger down the page to find the next number, but Ashley snatched the pages from him.
"Think this through, Brayden. It's Saturday night. Most clinics are already closed. And even if we find a clinic or a hospital and manage not to get into an accident while we're driving there, you'll still have to make another trip to the collection room."
"So?"
"So, there'll be paperwork and probably even more lab tests because they'll need to do some cover-their-butt precautions to protect themselves from a potential lawsuit. We'll be darn lucky if all of this happens before morning. By then, we've missed hours. Crucial hours that could mean the difference between a baby or no baby. I hate to be crude, or insulting to you, but we can get this done in fifteen minutes. Maybe less."
He had no idea how to answer that. None. She was right. That much he did know. They could get it done faster the old-fashioned way.
But at what cost?
Oh, man.
At an enormous cost no doubt.
And could he even do it?
Brayden had never questioned his ability to have sex, but this was way out of his realm of normal experience. Besides, it was Ashley. He couldn't—
"We could think of it as clinical sex," she added.
As if that would help.
Even clinical sex required him to become fully aroused. It required him to feel a basic lustful attraction to her.
Which he was sorry to say, he felt.
"Mercy," she mumbled, adding a few choice words of profanity after it. Ashley tossed her phone and the pages onto the nearby dryer.
She didn't stop there.
Mumbling something indistinguishable under her breath, she shoved up her oatmeal-colored sweater so she could reach the side zipper on her pants. Her movements and her mumblings were jerky and awkward.
"If it helps—don't even think of it as sex," she continued, her words rushed. Almost frantic.
Ashley kicked her shoes aside, one of them smacking against the wall, and she let her unzipped pants slide to the floor. She stepped out of them and then proceeded to peel off her pantyhose. "In fact, don't think about it at all. Think of nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just react like any man would react to being offered sex."
Brayden shook his head. Why, he didn't know. He damn sure wasn't declining her offer.
Because he knew what he had to do.
Huffing again, Ashley reached behind him, her body whispering against his, and she slapped off the light. It didn't plunge them into total darkness though, as she'd probably hoped. As he had hoped. The security lights in the backyard filtered through the thick watery blocks of glass, making it seem as if they were surrounded by shimmering candlelight.
"Don't think about it," Ashley repeated.
She reached out, ran her fingers down his arm. Rubbed softly, despite the fact her hand was trembling.
Brayden caught her trembling wrist to stop her from touching him. In the pale flickering light, their gazes collided. Held.
Neither of them looked away.
Neither moved.
The only sounds were their rushed breaths and the sleet spitting against the glass.
She stood there, bare legged. Waiting. And looking far better than he wanted her to look.
He didn't want her.
He didn't want this.
But he wanted his son to live.
And that was what he focused on.
Cursing fate, Brayden let go of the grip he had on her hand so he could pull her slightly closer to him. Not exactly a loving, intimate act, either. It was simply to establish the contact he needed to have sex with her.
Ashley went right into his arms as if she belonged there.
Funny that he'd think of that because belonging there was exactly how it felt. She fit. They fit. As if they'd been made for each other. Her body against his. Her face in the curve of his neck. Her bare right leg wedged between his.
Brayden pushed all those fit comparisons aside.
It was sex.
Just sex.
That's all it ever could be.
"Here?" she asked.
He briefly considered taking her back to the bedroom but decided against it. It would just waste time. Time where he'd be wrestling with the guilt he was already feeling. And he probably wasn't the only one. Ashley was no doubt dealing with her own demons.
"Here," he confirmed.
There were no kisses. No lovers' caresses. No foreplay. He curved his arm around her waist and hauled her tighter against him. To him. Until they were pressed against each other for only one purpose.
"What do you need me to do?" she whispered.
Brayden was positive she wasn't asking about fundamentals here. Ashley undoubtedly wanted to know what got him hot. But it was an unnecessary concern on her part. Just the feel of her in his arms was enough.
Hell.
It was enough.
He felt the blood rush through his head. And to other parts of him. The heat slammed through his body. That kick. That overwhelming rush of need. To mate.
To take.
Brayden didn't even try to slow things down because this wasn't a moment to savor. This wasn't about making love. It was sex. He only hoped he could remember that.
He lifted her off the floor, and since the washer was close that's where he put her. He didn't waste any time. He stripped off her panties. A swatch of black silk and lace. He unzipped his pants, freed himself from his boxers and moved between her legs.
He slowed only long enough to slip his fingers past her pubic hair to make sure she was ready. She was.
Somehow.
He didn't want think about why she was ready. In fact, he went with Ashley's advice and didn't think at all. That bit of wisdom just might get him through this.
Latching onto her hips to position her, Brayden positioned himself, as well. So that the slick heat of her body brushed against his erection. Another slam of need. It created a raw aching demand to take her.
So, that's what he did.
Brayden pushed into her and tried to ignore the soft feminine sound she made. A rich moan that came from deep within her throat. He tried to ignore her scent. Tried to ignore the way she took him into her body.
All of him.
Every inch of him.
Until her firm muscles gripped him. And gave him exactly what he needed.
Ashley wrapped her legs around his waist and rocked against him. Moving with him. Slowly at first. Then faster. Much faster. Matching his strokes, shoving her body against his until they found a frantic necessary rhythm.
Now, his body demanded.
Take her now.
So that's what he did. Brayden continued to push into her. Hard. Stroke after stroke. Thrusting into that heat and moisture.
The need to take her rose, surged, propelled him to another place. To a place where guilt and feelings slipped away, where instincts and primal needs seized control of every part of him. That primal need drove him. Consumed him. So that he pushed deeper.
Harder.
Faster.
Until that one word pounded in his head. Pounded in cadence with own heartbeat. With his breath. With hers. Pounded with each thrust.
Now.
Until it pounded through his entire body. Until it became his only thought. His only…everything.
Now.
Now.
Now.
Brayden gathered Ashley close and did exactly what he needed to do. He gave in to that demand for now.
And he surrendered.
Chapter Seven
Ashley figured if she looked up the word awkward in the dictionary, there'd be a picture of her dressi
ng in the laundry room while Brayden zipped his pants.
Not that she was watching him do that, of course. He wasn't watching her, either. In fact, they were doing everything humanly possible not to look at each other. However, she heard the rasp of the metal from his zipper, the metaphorical punctuation mark, for what had just happened.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him move to the doorway. With his back to her. He bracketed his hands on the jamb and waited.
Ashley hurried, locating her panties and pants on the floor. She pulled them both on.
"The doctor told me I'm supposed to lie down for twenty minutes or so," she let him know.
Not easily. But she got out the words without stuttering. She wouldn't mention the part about elevating her hips. It seemed too personal. Ironic, since they'd just had some very personal contact.
Which Brayden had somehow managed to keep impersonal.
Well, what had she expected? Brayden had done exactly as she'd asked him to do. He hadn't thought about it. He'd simply done what was required of him as the male contributor in this baby-making venture.
He glanced over his shoulder at her. The briefest glance possible. Then he turned, and, without saying a word, he scooped her up in his arms. It was definitely not a romantic gesture, though. It was a simple follow-up procedure to minimize the effects of gravity and thereby improve their chances of a conception.
Brayden took her up the hall to her bedroom and laid her on the bed. Gently. Carefully. As if she might break. He stepped away and went to the window. Ashley waited until she was sure he wasn't looking at her before she slid a pillow beneath the backs of her thighs.
"Do you need anything?" he asked. "Is there something I can get you?"
"I'm okay," she lied.
Ashley didn't have to see Brayden's face to know what he was feeling. She could hear it in the stoic undertones of his voice.
He felt guilty.
An emotion she totally understood. She felt guilty, too. Seriously guilty. And she hadn't even had an orgasm.
In fact, she'd worked hard not to have one.
Probably one for the record. But then, she'd experienced a lot of firsts tonight.
And to think, they were supposed to repeat this procedure in twenty-four hours. A way of further increasing their chances of success. With the clinic damaged and the doctor injured, did that mean Brayden and she would have to have sex the old-fashioned way again?
Perhaps.
Twenty-four hours wasn't a lot of time to put something like this together. No. It would be faster for them to just, well, do it.
She felt her pulse flutter in her throat.
Oh, mercy.
Ashley firmly reminded her pulse that none of this was for fun. This was for procreation purposes only. And in only six days they might know one way or another if their procreation attempt had succeeded.
Of course, she'd be back in Virginia when she got the verdict on that. She had already purchased the airline tickets and confirmed the flight. Day after tomorrow, she'd be out of there and would already be trying to put her life back in order.
Temporarily anyway.
That order would have to shift no matter what the results of the pregnancy test. If it was negative, Brayden and she would have to go through this all over again. For heaven knows how long. It could take months. And if the test was positive. Well, that would take months of shifting and adjusting, as well.
Brayden lifted his hands slightly, palms up, but immediately drew them back down. "I feel as if I should say I'm sorry."
"For what?" Ashley asked, not sure she really wanted to hear this.
"I was rough. I'm not usually rough." He didn't end that comment the way a comment would normally end. There was a questioning inflection.
"You didn't hurt me—if that's what you're concerned about."
Sheez.
She wanted to hit herself. Why had she just given him carte blanche to discuss this? It was obvious Brayden didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to talk about it, either.
And she was almost certain she believed that.
"It was sex, clinical sex, as you put it," he said slowly as if he were carefully choosing his words, which he no doubt was. This conversation was like clog dancing through a minefield. "But I could have…I mean, for you, I should have—"
"I didn't expect you to," Ashley interrupted.
Even though he almost had.
And probably would have.
If she hadn't held back. Thank goodness for guilt. It'd served her well tonight.
Brayden glanced at her. A puzzling glance, maybe? Hopefully not a puzzling glance. Okay, she should have just kept quiet.
"Open mouth, insert foot," Ashley mumbled under her breath. Maybe he wasn't talking about her orgasm—or the lack of—after all. Maybe he'd meant something else, and by her addressing it, it opened the subject for discussion.
Great. Just great.
"Still," Brayden commented. And that was all he said for several moments. "I should have…well, I just should have."
So, he had been talking about an orgasm. "Don't worry about it. We were both in that whole speed-counts mode."
She hoped that would let him off the hook so he'd drop the subject.
He didn't.
"It just feels as if I used you. I did use you." No slow, calculated speech that time. The words just rushed out. "And I don't like feeling like this, Ashley. I don't like doing what we had to do."
Okay. That clarified things. In addition to his obvious overwhelming guilt, sex with her hadn't even been marginally enjoyable. But that made sense, of course.
It couldn't have been enjoyable.
Because if it had been, then it would have been like betraying Dana.
Ashley was thankful that Brayden's phone rang and even more thankful when he stepped out in the hall to take the call. It not only put an end to the excruciating conversation, it also gave her some much-needed time alone.
Figuring she'd met her timed elevation requirement, Ashley got up from the bed and went to the adjoining bathroom so she could freshen up. Except one glance in the mirror, and she realized she didn't look as if she needed much freshening. Heck, her makeup wasn't even mussed.
The only thing in disarray was her heart.
Oh, and her nerves.
Definitely those.
She felt raw. That feeling didn't improve when she glanced in the mirror again and saw the reflection of something on the edge of the claw-footed tub.
A blood-red candle.
Clutching her hand to her chest, Ashley whirled around, her gaze slashing to each corner of the room. To make sure no one else was in there. To make sure she was indeed alone.
No one was in the corners, but that left the tub. Specifically what might be in the tub, behind the opaque shower curtain that completely encircled it.
Why would the cleaning crew have left out a candle?
And for that matter, why shut the shower curtain?
No one had used that tub or shower in well over two years.
She stilled. And listened for any small sound that would confirm or deny her worst suspicions. And that was worst in just about every sense of the word. Because if this was the stalker, the person who'd killed Dana, then not only was she in danger, but Brayden was, as well.
Ashley almost called out for him. But she forced herself to think. Maybe it was just a candle. And it wasn't unusual for her to burn them while she was bathing. In fact, it was common. She could have left one there, and maybe the maid had thought it was decoration. That would explain why it hadn't been moved for cleaning.
"Just a candle," Ashley repeated.
But that didn't mean she wasn't going to take precautions. While keeping her attention nailed to the shower curtain, she reached beneath the sink, trying not to make a sound, and she fumbled around until she located a plunger. Not an ideal weapon, but one bit of movement, one shadow, one thing out of place, and she'd use it as a weapon.
&n
bsp; She reached out, latched onto the curtain and gave it a hard jerk to the left. The metal hooks rattled and the sheet of silky cloth slithered around the circular bar that supported it.
No stalker.
It took Ashley a moment just to catch her breath, but the breath was short-lived. Because while the tub didn't hold a stalker, it wasn't empty.
Inside the tub, sitting on the pale ivory porcelain was yet another candle. Tipped over. Soot covered the wick as if it'd been recently lit. And next to it was a carefully arranged bouquet of dried flowers.
Like the flowers that had caught fire at her rental house in Virginia.
Gasping, Ashley jumped back. She banged into the sink and knocked off a porcelain toothbrush holder in the process. It crashed to the tile floor, shattering, and the noise echoed through the room.
Brayden's racing footsteps quickly followed that noise. Within seconds, he rounded the corner. "Are you all right?"
Ashley didn't answer him. Instead, she pointed to the candle and the dried flowers.
He pushed past her. Actually placing himself between the tub and her, he examined what had sent her heart into a tailspin.
"You didn't leave that?" he asked.
She shook her head. "No."
"Don't panic. It could be nothing. I'll have them checked for prints. Hell, I'll have the whole place checked. First, though, I'm getting you out of here. We'll go back to my house and I'll call in some officers."
He took out his phone, presumably to arrange for that, when Ashley remembered her own phone. The one next to her bed. How in the name of heaven had she forgotten about that?
Avoiding the shards of porcelain, she stepped around him, made a beeline for the nightstand and picked her coat up off of the phone. The light was still on.
Still blinking.
She was aware of Brayden moving behind her. Of him watching her. Pulling in her breath, Ashley reached out and pressed the "play message" button on her answering machine.
"You have one message," the perky female mechanical voice announced.
There was a slight jolt of static. Followed by yet another voice.
Not mechanical, perky, or female.
But it did have an artificial sound to it, as if it'd been recorded and then spliced together to form the sentence.
Santa Assignment Page 6