by BETH KERY
“I disagree,” he murmured. His lips moved now just inches from her own. He stepped forward with his right foot, so that his inner thigh touched the outside of her hip. He leaned into her and she was wedged between Ryan and the counter. “It was sweet of you. You’re incredibly sweet, Faith.”
His hands tightened around her waist. He paused, his face just inches from her own. She met his stare, wide-eyed, and saw he was watching her like a hawk. Her lips parted.
He swooped down, seizing her mouth with his own.
Chapter Nine
His mouth moved over hers, a sensual drug that left her consciousness hazed by pleasure. He pressed closer, nudging her middle. Her eyes popped open, even though she kept avidly participating in the kiss. He wasn’t wearing anything beneath the thin fabric of the pajama bottoms.
His obvious arousal made something squeeze tight deep inside her, made her recall all too well how he’d filled her on Christmas Eve, how he’d pulsed high and hard and alive deep inside her. Desire sluiced through her, so sharp she cried out softly into his hot, marauding mouth.
She touched his back with her hands, relishing the sensation of smooth skin gloving muscle and bone so tightly. Her fingertips moved eagerly, detailing the line of his spine. Her palms swept over the expanse of his back, pushing him closer.
He came up for air, making a hissing sound.
“I know you think we shouldn’t give in to this, Faith, but for the life of me, how can I forget what you felt like that night?” he whispered roughly next to her lips. “You were so small...” He plucked at her upturned lips. “So sweet. I can’t sleep at night, remembering how good it felt,” he muttered as he reined feverish kisses on her lips, her cheek, her ear. His hands moved at her waist, stroking her back, lowering to cup her hips possessively. He brought her closer, shifting his pelvis, rubbing their flesh together, stoking the fire.
Faith found herself sinking into heat.
“Please let me make love to you again,” he said hoarsely, covering her ear with his mouth. The suction that came from his kiss caused prickles of excitement to reverberate down her spine. “I’ve thought about it since Christmas. How could something that feels this good be wrong?” His hand rose over her ribs, finding a breast. He covered her, nestling her flesh in his palm. She whimpered as he began to knead her gently. Her nipple grew hard against him. He gave a low growl of male approval. His body tensed and hardened next to hers.
She gasped in pleasure.
“You think so, too,” he rasped.
“Yes,” she whispered, her mouth seeking out his. “Yes,” she breathed next to his lips before she pushed his head down to hers. They fastened together in another ravenous kiss. Sensual pleasure suffused every pore in her being. She said nothing when she felt him lift her off her feet. He strode out of the kitchen and through the living room, his stare scorching her. The bedroom was shadowed and dim, the only source of light the one in the distant kitchen and a glowing bedside clock.
He laid her on the bed and came down over her, immediately fusing their mouths again. His body covered hers, with plenty to spare. He felt so hard, so wonderful. Her mind went blank. Only pleasure existed...and Ryan.
His hands moved over her, conferring delight and heat wherever he touched. Faith was far from passive, however, touching him back just as heatedly, relishing the opportunity to feel what she’d barely allowed herself to look at earlier. His hands found their way to the belt of her robe, loosening it, and then moved to her thighs. He raised the fabric of her nightshirt to her waist, pausing to caress and enliven her tingling nerves with every stroke.
“So soft,” he rasped, breaking their kiss. He lowered his head. She made a choking sound at the sensation of his mouth pressing between her rib cage. His lips nibbled at her tenderly, making her shiver. He tasted her, his tongue leaving damp spots on her pebbling skin. He pushed up her nightshirt. She gasped at the sensation of his mouth on her breast, moaning as he drew on her. Pleasure tore through her body. Her breasts had never felt so sensitive. He continued to use his mouth and tongue on one nipple, and used his fingertips to gently manipulate the other.
“Ryan,” she said helplessly.
“I’ve never tasted anything as good you,” he muttered thickly. He rose over her, his erection between her thighs. Faith’s eyes sprang wide at the sensation. She twisted her head on the pillow. Her cheek brushed against the soft fabric of the pillowcase...
...the same pillowcase she’d just put on last evening. In Ryan’s bedroom. The room where he was going to live while they shared a marriage of convenience for the benefit of their child.
She cried out in distress, moving her chin when Ryan bent again to ravish her mouth. He paused, his lips just inches from her averted jaw. She clamped her eyes shut when she felt a whole new type of tension enter his sleek muscles.
“We can’t,” she said shakily. “This isn’t how this was supposed to go, Ryan.”
“I thought things were going pretty damn great,” he said grimly.
“Ryan...”
He cursed under his breath and rolled off her. She came up on her elbows, staring at his shadowed figure anxiously.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have agreed to this. This whole moving in together...the marriage idea. It was a mistake.”
He lowered his arm. “No. You weren’t at fault,” he said, his voice hard. She heard him inhale slowly. When he resumed speaking, he sounded calmer. “It was my fault. I’m to blame. I agreed to respect your boundaries under this arrangement. I didn’t.”
“I was hardly complaining,” she said miserably, moving to the side of the bed. He caught her hand and she paused.
“It won’t happen again. Not unless you change your mind.”
Her mouth fell open. Guilt surged through her. He was making it sound like he’d taken advantage of her, when goodness knows she’d been every bit as eager for him as he was her.
Not unless you change your mind.
She reluctantly pulled her hand from his and stood at the side of the bed.
The problem was, Faith couldn’t trust herself. She couldn’t tell Ryan that what she wanted was him.
What she didn’t want was all the heartache she might receive if she opened herself up to him too far.
* * *
All was quiet in his bedroom when she crept out of the house on Friday morning. When she returned home that night, a heavy pregnancy-exhaustion weighting her muscles, she found a note in the kitchen from Ryan. It said he’d taken a flight to San Francisco, and that he’d just spend the night in his still-unsold condo before returning on Saturday.
Check the fridge, she read the last line few lines of his note. A peace offering. I’m sorry about last night. I’m not sure how it is I’m always screwing things up when all I really want is to get it right with you.
Tears burned her eyelids. She opened the refrigerator.
The first thing she saw was a luscious-looking dessert nestled in a paper cup with thick shavings of white chocolate nestled in frosting. She recognized it as her favorite guilty pleasure from the bakery downtown—a brownie with white chocolate chunks and Macadamia nuts. She pictured a smiling Georgiana at the bakery telling Ryan about Faith’s preferred dessert.
Beneath the confection was a plastic-covered plate. She grabbed it and the brownie and set them on the counter. When she peeled back the plastic on the plate, she saw that he’d grilled the steak she’d prepared for his thwarted welcome dinner. He’d placed a helping of her green bean, grape and pasta salad next to it.
She stared blankly at the meal he’d made for a full minute, her throat feeling tight. She’d treated him unfairly last night. Her guilt mounted over the fact that he kept apologizing for a sin she’d participated in every bit as enthusiastically as he had. There was a singular, powerful attraction betw
een them. Ryan was just a man; one who was undoubtedly unused to having his sexual advances denied.
Faith knew firsthand how difficult it was to deny him.
How fair was it for her to agree to this arrangement between them, knowing full well that she was making him uncomfortable?
Miserable?
What if, even now, he was finding the gratification she’d denied him last night in the arms of another woman?
“Don’t be stupid,” she snapped at herself out loud. She picked up the plate and cupcake and set them on the breakfast nook table.
She’d drive herself absolutely mad by having thoughts like that every time Ryan took off in a plane.
* * *
She arose the next morning to a pristine, sunny spring day. As she was preparing some breakfast, she heard her cell phone ringing. She answered it when she saw it was Mari calling.
“Good morning,” she greeted, setting her steaming bowl of oatmeal on the table.
“Good morning!” Mari returned cheerfully. “How are you feeling?”
“Wonderful,” Faith said honestly. “I’m always energized in the mornings.”
“And wiped out by two o’clock, right?” Mari said knowingly. “The fatigue is supposed to go away for a lot of women during the second trimester and come back for the last, but I know for me, I’m affected the whole time.”
“Unfortunately, I think we might have that in common,” Faith said dryly, touching her abdomen. “I’m not complaining, though. Luckily, I can go into my office if it gets too bad and close my eyes for fifteen minutes.”
“Those catnaps make a world of difference. I just wanted to tell you that Marc and I are spending the night with Brigit tonight in Harbor Town. I can drive over this afternoon if there are any last-minute details you’d like me to see to for the wedding. Ryan called last night, and said he would be in San Francisco until later today. He thought you might need some help.”
Warmth rushed through her at the mention of Ryan’s concern for her. “Oh, no. I’m fine. There really isn’t much to plan, it’s going to be such a simple ceremony. Ryan has gotten the license, and you helped me with the dress and Ryan’s ring. Clarisse is going to make the four of us a nice lunch on the terrace after the ceremony. I hear the weather is supposed to be wonderful. Everything is all taken care of.”
“So you don’t have any errands you need run today?”
“No, I’m actually seeing some patients at the office this morning, I got so backed up this week. But I really appreciate you asking, Mari,” she said sincerely.
“Well, call me if you change your mind. Oh...I spoke with Deidre on the phone earlier. She wants me to tell you congratulations. Ryan told her and Nick about you and the baby and his plans to headquarter Eagle Air out of Michigan. Nick thinks it’s a good thing, as so many DuBois employees have to regularly go coast-to-coast, and Ryan will be more centrally located.”
“Tell Deidre thank you. And as for Eagle Air, I’m happy to hear it’s going to work for everybody.”
They reaffirmed the time they would meet at the orchard tomorrow and said goodbye.
As Mari had predicted, Faith was exhausted by the time she returned home at a little past three that afternoon. She fed the cats and let Topsy into the yard. After she let the puppy back inside, she kicked off her pumps and flopped down on the couch in the living room. The sun shone through the large picture window next to the couch, warming her. After a minute Topsy came up to the couch, whining plaintively.
“Hi you,” Faith murmured, leaning down to scoop up the fluffy puppy in her arms. She curled on her left side, Topsy snuggling between her body and the back of the couch. She closed her eyes and drifted into a contented sleep.
* * *
Ryan pulled into the driveway, his eyes feeling gritty with fatigue. He hadn’t slept well last night, tossing and turning, recalling in vivid detail what had occurred with Faith the night before, wishing it hadn’t happened...
...wanting like hell for it to happen again.
He had to rise early to fly a DuBois executive from San Francisco to Houston. He’d been forced to wait two hours before being cleared for takeoff in Houston, chomping at the bit the whole time for his return to Michigan.
To Faith.
The interior of the house was bright and warm when he entered. “Faith?” he called, his voice trailing off at the utter silence of the house. He walked out of the foyer and immediately saw her curled up on the couch. He approached her cautiously, a smile tugging at his mouth when he noticed Topsy tucked next to her body, both of them taking the even, shallow breaths of sleep.
He sat down at the end of the couch, careful that his movements wouldn’t wake her. He sank into the cushion with a restrained sigh, his tired muscles relaxing at last. Faith hadn’t changed since she’d returned home from the office. He’d noticed that she tended to only wear the tailored, knee-length skirts for work. Her bare legs looked smooth, pale and shapely next to the taupe fabric of the couch. The bottoms of her feet looked feminine and pink and...extremely touchable.
He’d promised not to touch her, though, he recalled with a stab of grim disappointment. Instead he grabbed the decorative pillow wedged behind his back and the couch and wrapped his arms around it. It was nowhere near as warm as Faith, or as soft, or as shapely.
But it’d have to do.
* * *
Faith felt Topsy’s warm body moving and shifted, stretching her legs. Her feet were chilly. She sunk almost immediately back into sleep.
When she finally pried open her eyelids a while later, the light outside the window had dimmed. It was early evening. Her intended catnap had turned into a two-hour deep sleep. She felt so warm and cozy, she was tempted to get up and go back to her bed.
She lifted her head off the pillow and started. She blinked, bringing her sleepy eyes into focus, assuring herself she saw what she thought she was seeing. Ryan came into clearer view. He sat at the end of the couch, his long, jean-covered legs sprawled before him. Topsy had abandoned her only to relocate next to him. The puppy snuggled against his hip, her nose pressed next to his thigh. Faith’s feet were in his lap, his hand draped over her toes in a relaxed grip. Her eyes widened when she saw—and felt—just how intimately her feet were pressed against the fly of his jeans.
She started to extricate her feet from the compromising position, but paused when Ryan’s head moved on the back of the couch. She froze. She vaguely recalled stretching her feet earlier and finding a warm crevice in which to snuggle them.
To her rising horror, she saw Ryan open his eyes.
For a few tense seconds they just stared at each other, unmoving. His heat seemed to amplify beneath her, resonating into her feet. His hand tightened as if convulsively over her toes, then loosened.
Faith jerked her feet out of his lap.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice sounding sleep-roughened and sexy. He blinked, as if clearing his vision. “I drifted off when I got home. Didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Neither did I,” Faith said, smoothing her skirt over her thighs. She swung her feet to the floor and sat up, avoiding his gaze. “How long...I mean...when did you get home?” she asked awkwardly, running her fingers through her hair.
“About an hour ago, I think.”
Topsy made a sound between a grunt and a whine. Faith turned. Topsy was blinking sleepily. Ryan was watching her face with a narrow-eyed stare.
“I didn’t...” He glanced down toward his lap, clearly uncomfortable. “It was... Your feet were just there when I woke up.”
“I know,” she said, standing, suddenly wishing she were anywhere but there. “I know you didn’t do it. I think I did. Sleeping...feet cold,” she mumbled stupidly before she grabbed her pumps and rushed out of the living room to the safety of her bedroom.
&n
bsp; * * *
She felt so discombobulated by the experience, so vulnerable, that she closed her bedroom door and drew a hot bath. She took her time bathing, trying to piece together her discordant feelings about Ryan...her attraction to him, her uncontrollable desire...her fear of getting hurt.
An hour later she stood at the mirror in her bathroom, brushing her hair. A soft knock came at her door. She glanced around, her eyes going wide and her heartbeat escalating. She stood there for several seconds, undecided about whether or not she should answer. If she remained quiet, Ryan might assume she was sleeping and go away.
She grabbed her robe and hurriedly shoved her arms into the sleeves, then opened the door. He stood in the dim hallway, still dressed as he had been when they’d awakened on the couch. He looked at her from below a lowered brow.
“I got you a salad from the deli. It’s in the fridge,” he said quietly.
“Oh, thank you. But I’m not very hungry.”
“You should eat.”
“Maybe later,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded, his gaze flickering over her. “I think I’ll go for a jog and try to get to bed early. Big day tomorrow.”
She attempted a smile and nodded. Awkwardness flooded her. They were getting married tomorrow, and here they stood, talking to each other like acquaintances through a crack in the door.
“We’re still leaving at eleven tomorrow, right?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Did he exhale, as if relieved? Had he been thinking she’d changed her mind about tomorrow?
“Well, good night, then,” he said.
“Good night. Ryan?” she called impulsively when he turned to walk away. He paused, looking back at her.
“Thank you for making dinner for me last night. And the brownie was delicious.”
He smiled. “You made the dinner. I just cooked it.”
“Well, thank you anyway,” she said emphatically.
He nodded once, his expression tight, his gaze searching. He turned. Faith opened her mouth to halt him again, but uncertainty tightened her throat, silencing her.