Ali. A sense of relief washed through him as her bare arms slid around his waist and he felt the heat of her body against his back. Relief quickly turned to something else as he realized she was, like him, naked.
“Feeling better?” he asked, searching her face in the mirror. There were still shadows in her eyes and she was a little pale, but she gave him a half smile. “You had me worried there,” he continued.
“Nothing to worry about,” she said simply.
“You missed dinner.”
She pressed a kiss to the center of his spine that sent a bolt of longing straight to his groin. “I’m not hungry. Not for food, anyway.”
She kissed a trail from between his shoulder blades to the small of his back. He turned around and pulled her up against him.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“How about a bath?” she asked, avoiding his question. “I could do with a good soak.”
He watched, slightly puzzled by her avoidance, as she sauntered to the raised steps that led to the marble spa bathtub he rarely used. Puzzlement fled as she bent over to turn on the faucet, adjusting the mixer until the water was at the right temperature. His body grew tight, his mind feeding his arousal with thoughts of how she’d look, slick with soap and lying in the warm water. Of how she’d feel beneath his hands.
He crossed the short distance between them and reached out to touch her, to cup the shape of her sweet buttocks and to run his hands down over her thighs as he pulled her back against his arousal.
“In a hurry?” she teased as she squirmed against him.
“For you, always,” he replied, skimming his hands over her hips and her belly, and filling his palms with her breasts.
He rubbed his thumbs over her nipples, felt them shrink and grow tight under his touch. The bath filled with water and she reached for his wrists, gently easing his hands from her body and pulling him behind her up the steps to the bath. She let go of him as she entered, enticing him once again with the curve of her buttocks as she reached for a dish of bath salts and sprinkled them liberally through the water.
A spicy scent rose on the steam, which curled lazily in the air around them. Ali sat down at one end of the bath and motioned for him to sit down in front of her. Game for whatever she suggested, he did exactly that.
Ali reached for the faucet and turned the water off, then pumped some liquid soap into her hands and began to wash his shoulders and his back. Her fingers slid over him. The touch felt exquisite, as always, but it wasn’t nearly what he wanted. She reached around him with soapy hands and drew circles on his chest, drawing closer and closer to his nipples, pinching them gently between thumb and forefinger before sliding her hands deeper into the water.
Ronin’s eyes slid shut as she closed her hand around his length, as she let her fingers clench and release as they worked their way to his tip and then back down again. He shuddered with the effort it took to hold back, to not give himself over to what she was doing, but he was determined to make sure she joined him on the same journey.
“Enough,” he growled, mimicking her earlier action and grasping her gently by her wrists and pulling her hands away.
He was so hard, so ready, that it hurt. All he wanted to do was give in to his body’s demand, but something still niggled at the back of his mind. Something that told him things weren’t quite right.
“My turn,” he said, shifting in the bath until he’d turned around and faced her.
Ronin pulled her forward, adjusting her legs so they bracketed his hips. Ali gripped the sides of the bath as he lathered up his hands and starting with her hands, began to work his way slowly up her arms. He took his time working the soap over her shoulders, along her collarbones, then down to her breasts, which rose, proud and full, just above the water line. He loved the feel of his hands on her skin, loved the sight of the contrast between his dark tan and her more golden hue. Again and again he circled his fingers closer to her nipples, and again and again he retreated.
A small frown appeared between her brows and her eyes narrowed as she looked at him.
“I never took you as a man who liked to torture a person,” she said.
Despite the accusing words, her voice was thick with desire, music to his ears.
“I understand patience is a virtue,” he teased, scooping up handfuls of warm water and allowing it to drizzle down over her chest, washing the bubbles away.
A tiny smile pulled at her lips. “So they say,” she answered, her voice growing tight as he pumped more soap in his hands and began to wash her stomach. “I guess I’ll just have to wait and find out.”
“That you will,” he promised, letting his hands drift lower, over the gentle swell of her belly to her hips, and then along the inside curve of her upper thighs.
She gasped as he stroked the tender skin on the inside of her legs, her body stiffening, waiting for his touch to become even more intimate. Ronin smiled and kept his eyes firmly on hers, locking her with his gaze, daring her to break it. He kept his touch light and teasing, watching as her pupils dilated, as her cheeks flushed pink with desire.
Seeing her response played havoc with his body. His erection strained between them, aching to be buried in that special place where his fingers tantalized and tangled. Ali’s breaths grew shorter, her eyes now glazing, but still she held that connection between their gazes. When he firmed his touch, sliding first one, then a second finger inside her while stroking her clitoris with his thumb, her lips parted in a frantic pant. Still she looked into his eyes.
He’d never shared this depth of bond with another person. To have them laid open to him like this, trusting him implicitly. He curled his fingers and stroked her again, driving a deep moan from her. Encouraged, he repeated the action, and again and again until he saw the rise of color spread across her body, felt the contraction of her inner muscles against his fingers, saw her eyes slide shut. And watched as she dropped her head back and gave herself over to sensation.
Ronin gently withdrew his hand and rose in the water, reaching to scoop her up into his arms. Carefully he stepped from the bath and crossed to his bedroom, uncaring that they dripped water across the carpet as he put her, soaking wet, on the bedcovers. He quickly found a condom and tore it from its packet, covering himself with swift efficiency before positioning himself between her legs.
Ali lifted her hips to welcome him, her arms reaching for him and closing around his neck to hold him tight. He guided his erection inside her slowly, relishing the miracle of her slick and swollen flesh. This, he thought, giving himself over to the now primal demand of his body, is where I want to be. Where I belong. With her. Forever. When his climax hit, it hit hard and felt as if it would have no end.
Thirteen
Ali woke an hour before dawn. She was curled up in Ronin’s arms, sheltered by his strength. She inhaled, wanting to lock this moment, this memory, the very scent of his skin, in her heart forever.
Sometime during the night, Ronin had discarded the damp bedcovers and pulled the sheet and some extra blankets over them, but not before they’d made love again. In the darkness their joining had been so poignant it had brought tears to her eyes, and she’d been thankful for the mantle of shadows that night had given her, letting her hide her emotions from Ronin’s sharp scrutiny.
She was afraid to move, to even draw a deep breath, in case it broke the spell that currently bound her. The spell that made her want to believe this could last forever. But she knew that, soon, any thought of forever would be gone, just as the darkness would fade into light as the sun rose on the new day.
He’d be leaving before her this morning. The helicopter was due to collect him at seven thirty to take him to a site near Rotorua for the day. She’d be packed and gone before his return.
A knife twisted in her chest. It was cowardly to sneak away withou
t actually saying goodbye—but she hardened her heart against the shame. She’d leave a note—clichéd, true, but necessary in this case, because if she had to talk to him face-to-face she’d cave and tell him everything. The thought of having to explain her imperfections made her feel sick. No, she’d let herself take the coward’s way out this time. She’d save her energy and her determination to face the days ahead. It was time to gather what was left of her strength around her like a carapace. To go on as she’d gone on before. Although this time she knew it would be more difficult than anything she’d ever done.
Ronin’s alarm discreetly buzzed, and he flung out an arm to turn it off. Ali feigned sleep as he eased from their embrace and left the bed. She sensed him looking at her, but she focused on keeping her breathing even, her limbs relaxed. Words were useless to her right now, and the last thing she wanted to do was to meet his gaze. People always said that eyes were the window to the soul—if he looked into hers right now she doubted she could hide the sorrow and regret that lingered there.
When he left the room, she felt his absence like a physical pain. Get used to it, she told herself, burrowing her face into her pillow. It’s going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better. If it gets better.
Twenty minutes later, a whiff of his cologne mingled with the fresh scent of mint as he leaned over her and pressed his lips to her shoulder. She mumbled something indistinct and felt him pull away. In the distance she could hear the whup-whup-whup of the helicopter rotors as it approached the house.
Please go, she chanted silently. Please go so I don’t have to say goodbye out loud.
She heard a faint sigh, and felt the briefest touch on her back. Then he was gone. Only minutes later the helicopter departed.
Ali forced herself from the bed and to the wardrobe, where she’d stored her suitcase and her things. Packing didn’t take long. She took a quick shower, dressed in a suit for work and automatically applied her makeup. Her hair was a tangled chaotic mess that she lacked the energy to fix, so she twisted it into a chignon of sorts and viciously pinned it into place.
Taking her case downstairs and putting it in her car only took a couple of minutes, which left just one more thing for Ali to do before she left the house. No, she corrected herself, two things. She had to say goodbye to Joshua and she had to write Ronin a note of farewell.
Right now she didn’t know which was the lesser of two evils, and it wasn’t like she could rock/paper/ scissors with herself. What the hell, she thought, she was downstairs already. She’d write the note in Ronin’s office and leave it on the kitchen table for when he returned. Then she’d find the courage she needed to say goodbye to the tiny human who had completely captured her heart and now held it hostage in his perfect little hands.
Choosing the right words to say to Ronin was more difficult than she’d expected, even though she’d had several hours to think about it. In the end, she kept the note short and sweet, thanking him for giving her the opportunity to create Joshua’s nursery and for opening his home to her. She finished by saying she’d never forget him, but that in the long term she felt it was better if they parted. No reason. No excessive explanation. Before she could change her mind she shoved it into an envelope, sealed it and wrote his name across the front.
Once she’d put it on the kitchen table, she made herself return up the stairs to the nursery. She could hear Joshua already, his cries mingling with the nanny’s soothing tones.
“Good morning,” Ali said, forcing a smile to her face as she entered the nursery. “Someone sounds grumpy this morning.”
“Nothing his morning bottle won’t fix,” the nanny said serenely as she changed Joshua’s diaper and then lifted him from the changing table. “Would you like to hold him while I get his bottle?”
“I’d love to, and if you don’t mind, I’ll give him his bottle, too.”
It would be the last time, she told herself. The very last.
“No problem. I’ll be back in a moment.” The nanny smiled, handing the baby into Ali’s willing arms and leaving the nursery.
Ali cuddled Joshua close, but instead of settling as he usually did, he continued to cry. She studied his wrinkled face and tried to soothe him, but to no avail. Did he sense her unhappiness? she wondered, feeling her own tears prickling near the surface as his wails picked up in volume.
She tried to find any sign of her ex-husband in the baby’s features—any reason, no matter how inane, not to feel this overwhelming love for the infant in her arms. She failed completely. Whether he’d grow to look like Richard, or his wife, or whether he’d be his own little person, it didn’t matter. She loved him wholly from top to toe. Even so, she had to walk away.
“Hush, little man. Hush,” she whispered, lifting him to her shoulder and rocking from side to side. “How can I say goodbye when you won’t let me get a word in?”
She kissed the top of his little head and inhaled his sweet baby scent, knowing this had been a bad idea. She should simply have left. Why had she been determined to prolong the agony? Joshie was more than well cared for. He didn’t need her anymore. And he certainly wouldn’t know one way or another if she said goodbye.
The nanny came back into the room, bottle in hand.
“Here you are,” she said, offering the bottle to Ali.
“I’ve just remembered I have an early appointment at the office. Do you mind terribly if I leave you to it?”
It was the coward’s way out again, she knew, but right now it was the only thing she could manage to do. If she didn’t leave this minute, she might never find the courage to go—at least until, maybe, she was forced to. And she couldn’t bear that again. Far better to preempt it now than to open herself up for an even greater world of hurt.
“Not at all,” the nanny said, with one of her calming smiles.
Ali gave Joshie one last kiss and passed him back to the nanny, then compelled her lips into a smile.
“I’ve left a note downstairs for Mr. Marshall. Could you see that he gets it?”
“Sure. I’m going off shift shortly but I’ll make sure the new nanny coming on lets him know.”
“That’s great, thanks. Well, I’d better be off.”
Despite her undeniable need to leave, to get away and put some distance between here and getting her life back together, she found herself reluctant to go.
“Have a nice day, Ms. Carter,” the nanny said, offering the bottle to her charge and turning away.
She couldn’t bring herself to answer. Nice days would be a thing of the past for quite a while. Possibly even forever. She waved a hand in response, and ignoring the crushing weight that built in her chest, went down the stairs and to her car. Her hand shook uncontrollably as she tried to put her key in the ignition and she forced herself to take several deep breaths before trying again.
“You can do this,” she said out loud. “It’s not the end of the world.”
No, it might not be the end of the world, her inner voice reminded her. But it was the end of hope as she knew it.
As she headed down the long driveway she didn’t look back. She had a busy day ahead, with no time to dwell on “might have beens” or “if onlys.” She’d already had a bellyful of them the first time around. And she’d learned her lesson this time, at least. It didn’t pay to fall in love. It only set you up for immeasurable loss.
* * *
Storming through the front entrance of Best for Baby felt more than a little like déjà vu, Ronin thought, and he had just about the same head of steam built up this time, too. A problem at the project yesterday, followed by a delay with the helicopter that had eventually seen him hire a car to drive home from Rotorua, had made him very late home last night. Too late to do anything about the ridiculous note he’d found waiting for him on the kitchen table when he’d finally gotten home, or the empty bed he’d been forced
to toss and turn in.
Yesterday had been a crock from start to finish. He rubbed a hand across eyes that still felt scratchy from lack of sleep and looked around the reception area. Just like the last time, there was no one in attendance. He reached for the bell on the countertop just as Deb came through from what he assumed was a kitchenette, judging by the tray of coffee cups she carried.
“Oh!” she cried when she saw him, the cups rattling a little as she startled.
“Is Ali in? I need to see her.”
“She’s not expecting you,” Deb stated firmly, as if that would be enough to make him turn tail and leave.
Ronin studied the other woman carefully. Did she really think she could stop him from seeing Ali if that’s what he wanted to do? Something of his determination must have shown on his face, because she put the tray down on her desk and stepped in front of him, barring his access to Ali’s door.
“Is she in her office?” he asked.
Deb’s body language gave him all the response he needed.
“She’s with clients and can’t be disturbed,” Deb replied implacably. “Look, now really isn’t a good time.”
Ronin cast a look at the tray Deb had been carrying. Yes, there were three cups and saucers there and a small plate of bite-sized servings of what looked like chocolate-and-caramel slice.
“I’ll wait,” he replied, settling himself on one of the two-seater sofas in the waiting area.
“Mr. Marsh—” Deb started, but he cut her off.
“I said, I’ll wait.”
He reached for the morning paper, still folded neatly on the coffee table in front of him, and, crossing his legs, began to read. Deb threw him a fulminating look. Clearly she knew that Ali had left him, and had been prepared to run interference, but she was no match for his purpose. He watched from behind the paper as she sniffed in his direction then picked up the tray and knocked on Ali’s office door before going in. As she closed the door carefully behind her, he caught a glimpse of a couple seated opposite Ali’s desk.
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