by Jamie Denton
White-hot jealousy surged through his body at the thought of Peyton with Atwood. Here, in this very cottage where he and Peyton had made love, had once shared an intimacy only lovers so in tune with each other could have. The thought of those images being repeated with another man had his gut twisting, hard.
Ironically, the reminder that she was engaged to another man did zilch to reduce the pain in his jeans. He’d never been into encroaching on another guy’s territory, but when it came to Peyton, he had a bad feeling the rules didn’t apply. Laying the blame at the feet of unresolved issues wouldn’t fly, and he knew it.
She pulled her hand from beneath his. “I’ve never brought Leland here.”
Jared found that as hard to believe as the hope he felt that she was telling him the truth. “How long have you been engaged?”
She cleared her throat and focused her attention on the fireplace. “Three days.”
“Three days?” Impossible. She couldn’t have just gotten engaged. Not with the way she’d been looking at him all day. There was also the issue of that kiss when she’d plastered herself all over him, making it damned hard for him to keep his hands to himself. “You mean to tell me you’re newly engaged?”
“Sort of.” She pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them. “It took me a while to accept his proposal.”
“How long?” He knew from experience that Peyton was not the type to leap first without knowing what was on the other side.
“About two months.”
Two months? A couple of weeks, maybe. But two months to figure out if she wanted to marry the guy? Jared’s own ego climbed a notch and he grinned. “Tough decision, huh?”
She let out another sigh. “You know I don’t make snap decisions.”
“God, Peyton, you always could worry a situation to death.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Waiting for you to decide on something is like being nibbled to death by a duck. Slow and agonizing.”
She glanced up at him and gave him a scathing look. “Not always,” she said as she stood abruptly.
“True.” His grin widened when she turned her head to look at him. “When I asked you to marry me it took you less than two seconds to accept.”
A barely perceptible shrug lifted her shoulders. “I was a different person then. And there’s nothing wrong with needing to be sure I was making the right decision.”
She spun around abruptly. “Good night, Jared.”
He wasn’t about to let her out of his sight, especially not now when he’d been handed such a startling revelation. He followed her into the bedroom.
“Either you love the guy or you don’t,” he said, flipping on the switch to light the bedside lamp. All bets that she wasn’t in love with Atwood were a sure thing, at least in his mind. A thought that had his grin widening. It certainly would explain her reaction when he’d kissed her. In fact, he should have realized it sooner. A woman did not kiss another man the way she’d done if she was in love with someone else. Especially not Peyton.
Her frown deepened as she moved to the side of the bed and tugged down the covers. “I suggest we change the subject before one of us gets angry.”
He considered her suggestion, for about two seconds. “So do you?” Maybe he should follow her advice and let the subject drop, but there was no way he was letting go of something he considered important. Why he felt that way was a subject he didn’t care to discuss, because doing so would bring up matters they’d never resolve. In particular, her reasons for turning him in to the bureau. She had already explained why she’d done it, and while logically he understood her reasoning, emotionally he couldn’t get past playing the part of the injured party.
She pulled off her socks, then scooted beneath the covers, bringing them up to her waist. “You’re not going to let this rest, are you?” She gave him a level stare filled with frustration. “I might overanalyze things, but did anyone ever tell you how relentless you can be? Or how irritating?”
He circled the bed. “It’s all part of my charm.”
She issued a very ladylike snort of disgust. “I don’t find you the least bit charming right now, Jared.”
“You used to.”
“That was…different.”
He didn’t think so. Especially since she was doing her best to avoid answering his question. “Are you in love with Atwood?” The mattress dipped as he sat beside her. His hip nudged hers, but she shifted to the side until they were no longer touching.
She pulled the covers, but under his weight, they refused to budge. “You’re being ridiculous.” She sounded miffed. And adorable as hell.
He rolled on top of her and braced his arms on either side of her hips, trapping her between his body and the pine headboard. “Am I?” He made the mistake of looking at her mouth just as her tongue moistened her lips again. His erection started to pulse. “Then why won’t you give me a straight answer? I’ve never known you to hide from the truth.”
“I’m not hiding from anything. The past couple of days have been miserable and I’m exhausted. Would you please leave? And turn off the light on your way out.”
He wasn’t buying it, and he sure as hell wasn’t leaving her alone until he had the answer he longed to hear. Besides, the slight note of panic in her voice gave her away.
“My feelings for Leland are irrelevant,” she added.
Jared leaned forward and breathed in her scent. She smelled of soap and arousal. “You’re not in love with him.” Arrogant or not, he knew in his gut he spoke the truth.
When she didn’t deny it, he cupped her cheek in his palm and smoothed his thumb along the satiny softness. Her breath caught. A heartbeat later, she turned her face to press against his hand.
“Don’t do this, Jared.” Her whispered words were more invitation than rejection. Her hand landed on his chest, but she didn’t push him away. Instead, her fingers curled into his shirt.
“Why?” He leaned in and brushed his mouth gently over hers. He slid his hand along her jaw to cup her neck, his fingers gently stroking her skin. “What are you afraid of? That I’m right?”
She shook her head, the silky strands of her damp, honey-blond hair tickling his knuckles. “No,” she whispered. “It’s just…”
“Just what?” He nibbled her earlobe and she trembled before turning her head to the side. He accepted the invitation, tasting his way down her throat, to the ruffled edge of her pajama top. With agonizing slowness, he nipped and kissed her collarbone, teased her jaw with the tip of his tongue. He stopped just below her lips. “Just that you won’t stop me if I do this?”
Her soft moan of pleasure when his mouth caught hers in a hot openmouthed kiss was all the answer he needed. When she wrapped her arms around his neck and arched her body into his, his breathing faltered. The past, along with the dangers of the present, slipped away faster than his control, which he held on to by a tenuous thread.
Logic and reason be damned. He had to have her.
He pulled her to him. Her pajama top joined her socks on the floor before he captured her lips again. He made love to her mouth with his tongue, dipping and swirling, teasing and coaxing her to open to him without reservation.
She showed him none as she clung to him. The heat of her body seared him through his shirt. He needed to feel her breasts against his chest, to cup the full mounds in his hand, to taste and lave her nipples until she was writhing beneath him as the passion burned through her body.
He started to remove his shirt, but she pushed his hands away and did the honors herself. With each delicious brush of her fingers on his skin, his cock pulsed and throbbed against the restrictive denim of his jeans. The need to make her his again, to reclaim what rightfully belonged to him, was too strong to deny or ignore. The truth failed to shock him. He knew the driving need to make love to her made little sense, but he was beyond caring. Peyton was his. She’d always be his.
She kissed his chest, her breath warm across his skin. Her fingers explored, her mouth c
aressed until he thought he’d go insane with wanting her.
Unable to bear her sweet brand of torture another second, he eased her back against the pillows, then held himself above her as he moved his mouth and tongue over the slope of her breasts, taking first one, then the other nipple in his mouth, gently tugging and suckling until she moaned with pleasure deep in her throat. Her hips rocked forward as her body sought the ultimate culmination, but he was nowhere near finished with his sexual exploration of her body. A body he’d craved for too many long and lonely nights.
He shifted and eased down the length of her slender curves, enjoying every inch of her skin with his tongue. He tasted her belly button just above the elastic of her pajama bottoms, then slowly pushed the fabric over her hips and down her legs.
Ever so gently, he pressed her thighs open before placing her legs over his shoulders. The musky scent of her femininity rose in the air around him. He knew from experience she’d taste as sweet as fresh cream, and she’d come hard in his mouth as he coaxed and teased an orgasm from her.
“Jared.” Her whispered plea ripped through him and settled right in his groin, making his erection blissfully painful.
“I know, baby. I know.” He wasn’t about to rush this, not when it’d been three long years since he’d experienced her desire. Since he’d heard her moans of pleasure and her fierce cries of release.
Using the fingers of both hands, he opened the moist folds, exposing the very heart of her to him. In the soft light from the bedside lamp, her skin glistened. The need to taste her, to slip his tongue inside in an erotic simulation of making love, gripped him hard. But Peyton liked it slow and hot. A buildup of pleasure that would have her begging him to take her, would have the heat pouring from her body in a generous gift of delicious surrender. A gift that would be his to treasure.
Using a finger from each hand, he slipped them into her hot core, moving them alternately inside her, reaching, teasing, and massaging deep within her body. She opened her thighs wider, giving herself to him completely. Her hands gripped the soft flannel sheets, and he watched as she flung her head back against the pillows, her mouth parted and her eyes closed. The image of her mouth slipping around the head of his cock teased him. The imagined feel of her tongue and throat as she suckled him and pulled him in deep, the glide of her lips easing down the length of him until he came in a rush that would be pure perfection, heated his blood.
He tasted the wild, heady flavor of her desire again, gently probing, licking and driving her to the brink of ultimate fulfillment. She cried out in pleasure when he lightly grazed his teeth over her swollen clitoris, her hips arching as she reached for him and silently begged for more. Slipping another finger inside her, he urged her to ride his hand while his tongue teased and probed. His mouth slipped over that swollen flesh and he sucked hard, bringing her more pleasure. Her body bowed, and she cried his name on the crest of a wave of desire that had her trembling.
The sweet agony of his own need for release tore through him, but he held back while pushing her harder over the edge, into another orgasm that had her calling his name over and over again. Gentle aftershocks wracked her body while her moist center contracted around his fingers. Carefully, he carried her back to earth, kissing the sweat dampened skin of her tummy, her thighs, his hands gently massaging her hips until their breathing returned to a somewhat normal state.
He placed a kiss above the line of her curls. Instead of soft skin, he felt a tiny ridge. On closer inspection, he found a scar, about six inches in length, ropelike and thin, marring the perfection of her flesh. She stiffened when he traced his finger along the length of the scar.
“What happened?” he asked.
He looked up in time to see her bite her lip and turn away. The clenching of his stomach had nothing to do with desire, but the heavy weight of dread. An appendectomy scar wouldn’t cause that kind of reaction.
“Sweetheart?” He moved to sit on the bed beside her, but she moved away from him as if she couldn’t stand to be near him. A chill gripped his heart. “How’d you get the scar?”
She shot off the bed, found the bottoms of her pajamas, then quickly pulled on her top. Her gaze caught and held his a fraction too long for her to hide the sudden moisture making her eyes glisten.
She looked up at the ceiling, rapidly blinking against the tears, then back at him. He sat on the edge of the bed wearing only his jeans, waiting, his heart pounding.
“It’s from an emergency cesarean section.” Her voice cracked as she held back a sob. “About six months after you disappeared.”
10
PAIN AND LOSS WERE NOT new emotions to Jared. Neither was the desire to stay alive. He’d experienced them all throughout his life, several times over. When he was eighteen, the death of his parents had left him to raise his sixteen-year-old sister alone, using his wits to keep a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. He’d felt the loneliness of the long years of separation from his sister during his stint in the navy, followed by the long hours and deep-cover assignments of his job with the bureau. During the months he’d been on the run, he’d discovered the heartache of leaving behind yet another person he loved. There was the grief and guilt that plagued him over Beth’s murder. Yet as difficult as his life had been, nothing could have prepared him for the tearing of his soul upon hearing Peyton’s words.
Images clouded his mind as the dark side of his imagination took hold. He shook his head, as if such an innocuous action alone held the power for him to deny the truth or clear the visions crowding his mind. There was only one truth—Peyton had been pregnant when their world had been ripped out from under them.
Had she lost the child, or given it up for adoption? Automatically, he assumed the former. With Peyton’s history, he didn’t believe for a second she’d be able to allow another person to raise her child. Even if he had given her cause to hate him with every cell in her body, she’d never give a child up for adoption.
Still, he’d been to her home. There were no signs a child lived with her. There’d been no car seat in her car. No small toys left behind in the back seat or cluttering the yard. Nothing.
Which could only mean…
He looked up at her. The pain in his own heart was mirrored in her blue eyes. He had the answer. “What happened?” he asked, but he knew. God, he knew, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t think he’d be able to stop the emotions from drowning him completely.
“My pregnancy was difficult. I went into premature labor, but they couldn’t stop the contractions. When the baby started to show signs of distress, they performed an emergency C-section.” Her breath hitched and her eyes shone with tears. “He only survived two days.”
The ache in Jared’s chest grew to epic proportions, making breathing difficult. His mind wouldn’t allow him to close the door against the anguish. He’d been raised to suffer in silence, so shutting out the feelings ripping through his heart should have been as easy as breathing. Being the son of the great neurosurgeon David Romine and self-help guru Ellen Romine had taught him never to make a scene or allow anyone to see weakness. The lessons were second nature to him. So why was keeping them in check now so damned difficult?
He and Peyton had created a child, conceived from the love they’d once held for each other. The most beautiful of life’s gifts, but it had been tragically taken away from them. He didn’t believe in divine punishment or any other mystical force with the power to alter lives, but for the first time he couldn’t help wondering if he was receiving payback for his sins.
God, hadn’t he suffered enough? Hadn’t they all suffered enough?
“This isn’t how I imagined telling you about our son.” With the heel of her hand, she wiped away the tears pooling in her eyes.
She could’ve lied to him, and for the flash of an instant, he almost wished she had, saving them both the heartache of a past they were powerless to change. Considering what they’d just done, and knowing Peyton as he did, he gu
essed she figured her own sins were piling up, and didn’t relish the idea of adding to them by lying about something so important.
“When were you going to tell me?” The method of discovery didn’t leave him feeling angry, or even hurt. It wasn’t as though she’d tried to hide it from him. However, his chest felt as if a fifty-ton weight rested on it. He felt terrible that she’d had to suffer through it alone. Pregnancy. Birth. The painful loss of their son.
The vision of a tiny infant fighting for his life only added to Jared’s already insurmountable guilt. Nothing could change the fact that he hadn’t been there. Logically, he understood his presence would not have altered the outcome. Emotionally, he had other ideas, and he blamed the bastards that had kept him running for his life. He blamed them, and dammit, he would make them pay.
“When the timing was right.” She walked to the bed and sat beside him, lifting his hand and cradling it in her smaller, delicate one. “I’m sorry you found out this way. I know it has to be a shock.”
True, she’d dealt him a harsh blow. She’d had time to come to terms with the loss, and while losing a child was something he doubted any mother ever fully recovered from, for him the wound was fresh and raw.
He looked down at their joined hands. Had she ever been able to hold their son? he wondered miserably. Had he at least known his mother’s gentle touch as he struggled to hold on to life? “I don’t know if the timing would ever be right to hear news like this.”
“When you left, I didn’t even know I was pregnant.” She let out a quick puff of breath that did little to stop the tears from welling up in her eyes again. “Even when all the signs were there, I still didn’t realize I was going to have a baby. Maybe it was denial,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t know, but I convinced myself the fatigue I was feeling was from the strain of being hounded by the men looking for you.”