Not Quite Married

by Christine Rimmer

  Now both of them were naked, which suited him just fine.

  He said, “Come here.”

  She actually obeyed him without question for once, rising and bending toward him, the dark cloud of her hair swaying forward. He backed away, swinging his legs up onto the mattress, making room for her.

  And then she was with him, there on the bed. He reached to embrace her and she melted against him, all that sweet-smelling softness right there, wrapped in his arms.

  He needed to kiss her. And he did. He kissed all the best parts of her—which meant he kissed her everywhere. Her lush mouth, her cute nose, the tender, velvety lobe of her left ear. He laid a row of kisses down the silky side of her throat and lower. To her pretty breasts. He kissed them, but lightly. With care.

  And then he moved on. He kissed that little mole on the crest of her hipbone. He rolled her over and pressed his lips to the bumps of her spine, to the full, tempting curves of her bottom. He kissed the backs of her thighs and the delicate, nerve-rich flesh behind her knees.

  She moaned a soft “Please” as he turned her back over to nuzzle the dark hair where her thighs met.

  She moaned some more—and opened for him. For the first time in too many months, he tasted her. So sweet, so musky and already very wet. He was cautious, at first, trying to judge her receptiveness for this, her first time after Kiera. But she pushed her hips toward him, her body moving eagerly in response to his caresses.

  So he made her wetter, lifting her legs, settling her smooth pale thighs over his shoulders. That put him where he could watch her face as he stroked her with his tongue, with his fingers, as he teased her a little with his teeth...

  “Come up here,” she pleaded, urging him to claim her.

  But he stayed where he was and kept on kissing her long and deep and slow. He wanted her to give in, let him take her there with kisses first.

  And she did give in. She surrendered. He tasted greater wetness, and kept on kissing her. And she went over the edge, clutching his shoulders, whimpering his name. Still, he kissed her, feeling the pulse of her climax on his tongue, loving the taste of her, reluctant to let go.

  When she finally sighed and settled, he realized he didn’t want to wait any longer, either. He couldn’t wait.

  Wouldn’t wait...

  He stuck out an arm toward the nightstand. Reaching, fumbling, he almost knocked the strip of condoms to the floor. But he caught them before they fell. And by some minor miracle, he even managed to get one torn off the strip and out of the packaging.

  She chuckled softly. “Here.” And she took it from him. “Come closer...”

  He rose to his knees. She gazed up at him, her lips slightly parted, heat and trust in those impossibly fine dark eyes. Her fingers closed around him. A low, hungry sound escaped him as she rolled the condom down over his aching length.

  When she looked up at him again, he bent close and took her mouth, kissing her as she tugged at his shoulders, pulling him down to her, along the soft, welcoming length of her body. With a groan of pure need, he nudged her thighs wide and settled between them.

  He sank into her slowly, sure he would die of pleasure as her body surrounded him.

  She wrapped her slim arms and strong legs around him. And he was gone, lost in the scent of her, in her softness and strength and complete willingness to have him. She held him close to her, stroking his back, his shoulders, the side of his face, fingers sliding up to thread into his hair. He kissed her and she returned his kisses, her tongue mating with his as she moved in rhythm with him.

  It went on forever. He didn’t want it to end. And he wasn’t sure he could last long enough.

  But somehow he held on. He managed to wait for her to go over again. And when she did, when he felt her inner walls contracting so tight and hot around him, he let his own climax have him, let it roll up from the core of him, spreading outward along his arms and legs, rippling down every nerve ending, opening him up, making his head spin and turning him inside out, leaving him completely satisfied—and Clara still with him, wrapped in his arms.

  * * *

  Clara couldn’t remember when she’d ever been so completely happy as she was that night.

  And they got lucky. They had two more hours before Kiera woke up again. They showered together in the guest bath, taking their time about it, making use of another condom before they got out and dried off.

  “I realize I’m suddenly starving,” she said when they were back in the bedroom.

  She found a couple of old robes in the closet up there. They put them on and went down and raided the refrigerator. And then, with his head in her lap where she could bend down and kiss him whenever the mood struck, they watched television for a while.

  Finally, Kiera needed attention. They took care of her and went back to bed—in the master bedroom that time. Clara fell asleep with Dalton spooned around her. It was the perfect ending to the perfect night of lovemaking.

  Kiera only woke once more that night. Clara fed her and then Dalton changed her and held her until she slept again.

  The next time Clara woke, she was alone in the bed and dawn was breaking. She sat up, shoved her tangled hair out of her eyes—and saw Dalton, bare-chested in a pair of workout pants, sitting in the rocker with Kiera in his arms.

  She bent over the side of the bed and grabbed one of the robes they’d tossed on the rug last night. As she stuck her arms in the sleeves, Dalton rose carefully from the rocker. He only got one step before Kiera started crying. So Clara pulled the robe around her, tied the sash and went and got the baby from him.

  He gave her his warmest, sexiest smile as he passed the warm bundle into her arms.

  She settled back into the rocker. As always, Kiera latched right on, resting her little pink fist on Clara’s breast as she gobbled her breakfast. Dalton disappeared through the door to the bath and dressing room, emerging a few minutes later dressed in khakis and a T-shirt. He bent over the rocker and pressed a kiss to Clara’s forehead.

  “I’ll make breakfast,” he whispered, and left them alone.

  Half an hour later, when she had Kiera back down, she followed her nose to the kitchen. He had bacon and eggs and toast waiting.

  “I think you might just be the perfect man,” she said as they sat down to eat.

  “Hold that thought.”

  She dug in. The food was so good and she was so hungry she hardly glanced up from her plate until it was empty.

  When she did, she found Dalton watching her, his eyes the magical blue of the Caribbean.

  Love you, she thought. So very much. She opened her mouth to say it at last.

  But her courage faltered and she ended up whispering, “Thank you. For breakfast. For last night. For the island and the past two months when you’ve been here with me every step of the way, taking care of me when I couldn’t even admit that I needed it, needed you. Thank you for—”

  With zero warning, he shoved back his chair and stood.

  She gasped at the suddenness of the move. His eyes were electric now. What was going on? “Dalton. What...?”

  “Marry me.”

  Her heart stuttered to a stop—and then recommenced beating like a trip-hammer. She put her hands against her suddenly burning cheeks. “Oh, Dalton, I—”

  He came to her, held down his hand. All nerves now, she took it. He pulled her up out of the chair.

  “We’re good together.” He captured her face between his palms. “It’s working, you know it is. And I’m willing to sell the Denver house, to move here, to your town, to make it work for me so that it will work for you.”

  She gazed up into his beautiful eyes. Oh, she did want to say yes.

  But wasn’t it too soon? It seemed too soon. Didn’t it?

  “Say yes,” he demanded. And he kissed her, a quick, hard press of his warm lips to hers. “Say yes.”

  “I... It seems too soon, don’t you think? I just want us to be absolutely sure.”

  “I am sure.” No
doubt in his voice. None at all. “Marry me.”

  The thing was, she wanted to. She really did. To say yes, to move ahead with him, to commit to being with him forever. Together. To build the life their baby needed, the life she’d always dreamed of.

  But forever was a long, long time. She needed to know she could trust him with that, with all the days to come. She needed to know he would never decide that she wasn’t quite enough for him, that he needed something more.

  Oh, dear God. What if it all went wrong somehow? How could she be sure that it wouldn’t?

  More time. Definitely. They needed more time.

  He was watching her. He was waiting. For her answer.

  And she knew he wasn’t going to like what she said.

  So she stalled—by blurting out what was in her heart for him. “Oh, Dalton. I love you. I love you so much. You’re everything to me.”

  “Good. I love you, too.” He said it really fast and not all that sincerely. “Marry me, Clara.”

  She just stared up at him, speechless now.

  And then he dropped his warm hands away from her face. He fell back a step. And he insisted, way too stiffly, “Clara. Say yes. Marriage is important. You know it is. Marriage is the foundation of the family. And Kiera needs us to build a strong foundation for her. This living together, this being not quite married, it’s not enough, Clara. Our daughter deserves a family bonded in the sight of God and the law.”

  She stared into his handsome, beloved face and she couldn’t help picturing the lonely little boy he must have been once, with parents who didn’t like noise or giving hugs.

  She should say yes, she knew it. He needed her to say yes. And she loved him so much. She wanted him to have what he needed.

  But then again...

  No.

  Hell, no.

  She wanted more. She wanted... “Oh, Dalton. I want it all, you know?”

  His eyes changed as she watched. From electric blue—to ice. “No, Clara. I don’t know.”

  She tried to make him see. “I want your heart, given openly as I’m giving you mine. I don’t want you to marry me just because of Kiera.”

  “But I’m not. I—”

  “Yes. Yes, you are. And you have to see. I watched my mother suffer for years, because she didn’t have all of my father.”

  “I’ve told you, I’m not going to cheat—”

  “I know. You’ll be true. I believe that you will. I do. But I...well, I almost made a huge mistake and married Ryan for all the wrong reasons. I won’t do that again. And I refuse to end up like Astrid, having to accept that the man I love is never going to love me back.”

  “Didn’t I just say that I love you?”

  “Yes. You said it really fast and not the least convincingly.”

  “But I did say it. And I mean it. And, damn it, Clara. You are not Astrid. She’s a wonderful woman, but she’s not you. It’s...different with you. It was different from the first. Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you trust me?”

  “I do trust you. I just don’t think we’re ready for marriage yet.”

  His lip curled in a snarl. “Ready? What do you mean, ready? We have a child, for God’s sake. How much more ready can two people get?”

  “Kiera does not automatically make us ready for marriage. Come on, Dalton. You have to know that.”

  He didn’t answer. The look on his face said it all, though. He most definitely did not know that. In his careful, guarded heart, he still believed that Kiera should be more than reason enough for her to say yes.

  And she simply didn’t agree with him. “Dalton, please. It’s just...not right. Not yet. It’s not the right time.”

  “Wait a minute.” He backed off another step. “What exactly are you saying? Is this your way of telling me you want me to move out?”

  “What? Where did that come from? Move out? Dalton—”

  “Answer the damn question.”

  “I... No. I don’t want you to move out. Did I say that I wanted you to move out?”

  “Who knows what you said, what you meant? I can’t tell what you’re working up to. So I asked you, all right? I just asked you directly. Are you trying to get me to go?”

  Oh, dear Lord. How had this all gone so wrong, so fast?

  She took a step toward him. He eyed her with fury and suspicion. “Stay,” she said softly, coaxingly. “I do not want you to go. I love what we have, love living with you.” She took another step. And another. And finally, she was close enough to reach for him. “I love—”

  “Don’t.” He shifted back, jerking away from her touch.

  She dropped her reaching hand, but she couldn’t stop herself from trying—again—to make him see. “Please, Dalton. I love you and I love having you here.”

  There was a moment. Endless and awful. It was painfully clear to her that her refusal had wounded him. She hadn’t meant to do that. The last thing she ever wanted was to hurt him. She only wanted to love him. She only needed more time.

  Finally, he spoke in a low voice with careful, tightly held control. “I’m going out.”

  She cast about madly for a way to hold him there, a way to get him to stick with this, stick with her, until they somehow came out on the same page. But she had nothing. She ended up mumbling miserably, “Well, okay.”

  “If you need me...” He seemed not to know how to finish.

  Perfect. He didn’t know how to finish. She didn’t know where to start. “Look. It’s okay. Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. I’ll just...” The words ran out as he took her by the shoulders.

  Hope flared and her heart started galloping. Oh, if he would only pull her close, kiss her, say something wry and patient—something to reassure her that he understood her need to wait, to be absolutely certain the time was right before they went ahead with such a life-altering step as marriage.

  But of course, he didn’t understand. And he didn’t pull her close. He only guided her gently to the side, clearing his path so that he could leave.

  Clara turned to watch him go, pressing her lips together to keep herself from begging him to stay. A sad little moan of frustration escaped her. But if he heard it, he pretended not to. He walked away and he kept going.

  She stood there, staring at the spot where he’d been, until she heard the front door open and then close behind him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dalton left the house with fury in his heart and a vague plan to head for Prime Fitness. He would punch a bag until his hands bled and the muscles in his shoulders gave out.

  But somehow he found himself stopping in front of McKellan’s, of all places.

  The windows were dark. The bar wasn’t even open yet. And he certainly had no interest in meeting Ryan.

  Still, Dalton stood there on the sidewalk, first staring at the Closed sign inside the front door, then slowly tipping his head back until he was looking at the top floor of the building and the big windows up there.

  What do you know? Ryan stood in of those windows, wearing a CU T-shirt and sweatpants, holding a mug of coffee, looking down while Dalton looked up. Several seconds ticked by. And then Ryan raised an index finger.

  Dalton nodded. The other man disappeared from sight.

  Two minutes later, the door of the bar swung open. “Want some coffee?”

  “Coffee would be good,” Dalton heard himself say.

  “Come on up.”

  Dalton went in. Ryan locked the door again and then led the way through the empty bar and up some stairs in back.

  The apartment was a large one, with good views of the mountains all around. At the counter in the roomy, chef-worthy kitchen, Dalton took the seat Ryan offered. A cup of really good coffee from a pod machine was ready in no time.

  Ryan leaned on the counter across from him. “You’ve got that look.”

  “What look?”

  “Pissed off. Dumped.”

  “Pissed off, yes. Dumped, no—well, not exactly.” He glanced around vacantly, noted the high
-end stove and fridge, and the splendid view of the mountains framed by the wide window over the nearby butcher block table. “I can’t believe I came here.”

  Ryan gave a short laugh. “Why wouldn’t you come here? Who knows what goes on with her better than me?”

  Dalton sipped more coffee. “I’ve got this delusion that you might be on my side now.”

  Ryan shrugged. “I might be.”

  “Will you give it to me straight? You are, or you aren’t.”

  Ryan refilled his own mug and came around the counter to take the stool next to Dalton’s. “She’s had a baby with you. She wants to be with you. I want her to have what she wants.”

  “So, then, what you’re telling me is you’re on my side.”

  The other man finally gave it up. “Yeah. I’m on your side. I think she’s in love with you.”

  “Right. She told me that this morning.”

  One of Ryan’s eyebrows inched toward his hairline. “She said she’s in love with you and that pissed you off? You are seriously weird, dude.”

  “Before she told me she loved me, I asked her to marry me—for the second time.”

  “The light dawns. She said no again.”

  “Not no. Just not right now.”

  “And that pissed you off.”

  “Oh, yes, it did. I asked her to marry me for the second time. I said I was willing to live here, where she wants to be. I essentially said I’d do anything. Which is true. I would. Anything. If she would just marry me.” He drained the mug. “Apparently, for Clara, anything and everything isn’t enough.”

  Ryan got up and made more coffee. This time, he pulled a bottle of Crown Black from the cupboard and added a double shot to both of their mugs.

  It was too early for liquor, but Dalton didn’t refuse. He took his mug back and sipped. It went down hot and smooth.

  Ryan said, “She’s afraid to get married.”

  “I know.”