Accidental Baby

by Kim Lawrence

  ‘Why are you scared of enjoying yourself?’

  ‘I. . . I’m not,’ she stammered.

  ‘Not enjoying yourself, or not scared?’ The warmth in his face almost made it hard to remember why she mustn’t let her guard drop.

  ‘Both. . . neither.’

  ‘Marry me, Jo,’ he said, his voice deep with sudden urgency. His fingers moved to cup her face. ‘I know it’s not what either of us planned, but it makes sense. We could have fun.’

  ‘Fun?’ she echoed. She didn’t want sense, she wanted glorious, irrational love! She ought to be glad he couldn’t see this but his ignorance of her true feelings made her angry and resentful.

  ‘Sure, why not? Haven’t we always? You’re the only female I know I could contemplate living with and staying sane.’

  ‘Then it’s just coincidence you’re only proposing now when I’m pregnant. It was your plan all along.’ Her lips twisted in a bitter, ironic little smile as she tried to shake her head, but Liam’s grip held her immobile. He wouldn’t let her look away. It was as if he felt he could convince her of the truth of his claims by the sheer intensity of his conviction.

  ‘You didn’t plan to get pregnant, I didn’t plan to get married.’ His wide shoulders lifted fractionally. ‘So what? You are and I can.’

  He could, but that didn’t mean he wanted to—not deep down. ‘You make it sound so simple.’

  ‘It is, Jo.’ His eyes drilled into her.

  ‘We’d be getting married for all the wrong reasons.’ She could tell from the brief flare of satisfaction in his eyes—and was there some relief there too?—that Liam sensed her struggles were weakening.

  ‘The divorce courts are filled with people who got married for the right reasons. We’ve got a lot going for us.’

  ‘If people in love fail, what chance do we stand?’ She felt her eyes fill with tears. The image of his dark, dear familiar face grew misty.

  ‘In love,’ he repeated derisively. ‘What the hell does that mean? You laugh at my jokes, that’s a lot more important than some generic term to cover animal attraction. Love has been hyped out of all recognition by popular fiction and teenage girls’ magazines. Your old granny couldn’t say she was getting married because that was the only way she could respectably have sex—it was much more proper to say she was in love.’

  His cynicism shocked her. When had he grown so jaundiced in his outlook? Or had he always been that way and she hadn’t noticed?

  ‘I think we should leave my granny out of this, Liam. Say for the sake of argument what you say is true. Why, in an age when virginity is no longer rated so highly, do people still get married?’

  ‘Probably for the same reasons we are, even if they don’t realise it. To form a secure family unit. Also it gives both partners an often erroneous belief that they have exclusive rights over their partner.’

  She couldn’t help but notice that Liam wasn’t offering her even an illusion of exclusivity and he wasn’t asking for it either.

  ‘I thought you found security boring?’ Her words grew blurred as his thumb traced the outline of her full lips.

  ‘I don’t find the idea of us sharing a bed boring, any more than you do.’

  An incredulous gasp escaped her lips. ‘If I do marry you it’ll be your touching modesty that swings it.’

  The little nip at his thumb was meant to be by the way of playful punishment. Unfortunately it was immediately obvious from the scorching expression in his eyes that Liam didn’t recognise the whimsical nature of the assault—the mundane abruptly became erotic. Jo jerked her head back, but the faintly salty taste of his skin lingered on her tongue. Her body throbbed with awareness and she felt the tension in his hard body hike up several notches.

  ‘Let’s not waste any more time, Jo.’ The coaxing tone of reason had been replaced by something much more authoritative and urgent. ‘Most people think we’ve been sleeping together for years anyway.’

  ‘They don’t!’ Eyelids that had been succumbing to the heavy warmth that suffused her body flickered open.

  ‘Of course they do.’

  For some reason the idea horrified her. ‘I don’t suppose you did anything to disabuse them. . . ’ she began indignantly.

  ‘What do you take me for?’ he snarled, his voice harsh with disgust. A light which was almost reckless entered his eyes as he looked down into her pale, delicate features. ‘Do you think I’m so desperate to bolster my macho image? Mind you, if I’d known. . . ’ His hoarse words trailed suggestively away and Jo saw the muscles in his throat work hard as he swallowed.

  ‘Known what?’ she whispered. Her whole body was bathed in an aching tension that heightened all her responses, yet conversely dulled her brain until it was functioning at its most basic level. A level that was concerned with taste and touch and smell; a level filled with shocking appetites and needs.

  ‘How incredible it would be.’

  The scornful laugh had metamorphosed into a strangled croak by the time it emerged from her lips. ‘So incredible you couldn’t wait to forget it had ever happened.’ There was bitter accusation in her voice. She couldn’t forget that in all the letters they’d exchanged he hadn’t referred to that night once! He’d appeared to have wiped out the experience.

  ‘You wanted it that way. Didn’t you?’

  She shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. ‘I still do.’ She was stubborn in her defiance.

  ‘I might not have mentioned it, but I certainly thought about it.’

  His words slid neatly under her crumbling guard. ‘Oh!’ Any inclination she had to dismiss his words as a useful fabrication died as she searched his face.

  ‘Did you?’ His blunt question tore away the last shreds of her crumbling composure.

  A simple admission would be too revealing. ‘I had plenty to remind me,’ she reminded him, looking downwards and placing her hand on the slight swell of her belly. When his big hand covered her own she froze. He had beautiful hands, strong and shapely with long, tapering fingers. She looked at the one that covered her own almost greedily.

  ‘You may not be in love with me, Jo, but you love me.’ He paused long enough for her to deny it before continuing. ‘As I love you.’

  ‘It’s not enough.’

  ‘It’s a good place to start from.’ Her words glanced off his steely determination. ‘It’s crazy to feel guilty because we’re sexually attracted to one another.’

  ‘I’m not guilty!’

  ‘No?’ he drawled. ‘Then why are you trying to pretend you want me to stop touching you? You don’t—’

  ‘Says you.’ The scornful put-down came out as a breathy whisper.

  ‘I do say,’ he asserted confidently. ‘Under the circumstances we should be celebrating the fact we lust after each other. It gives our marriage a much better chance of surviving; sex is important. And later when the lust has faded we’ll still be friends.’

  ‘I can hardly wait.’ For a bright man he could be extraordinarily stupid sometimes. He’d chosen the one argument that guaranteed her continued lack of co-operation, the one argument that broke her heart. ‘I can see I’m going to have to be blunt.’

  ‘Just for a change.’

  His sarcastic mutter drew a narrow-eyed glare. ‘Why don’t you give up, Liam? I’m not marrying you. You’re wasting your time. How does that saying go? You can take a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink. . . ? The same goes for a girl and the altar.’

  ‘But I can take you to bed and make you agree to anything. I might not be word perfect but I think that was the general gist?’

  Jo’s eyes widened with dismay. She knew it had been over optimistic to think he’d missed that colossal slip. His expression was one of obstinate confidence as he moved abruptly. She gave a shriek as he swung her up into his arms.

  ‘Put me down this instant!’ The angle he held her at made the wild swings of her legs beat uselessly at fresh air. ‘Did you hear what I said?’ she panted. ‘Are you mad?’
she demanded, using the ice in her voice to disguise her rising panic. Excitement, no matter how furtive, she chastised herself firmly, had no place in this situation.

  ‘So, I’m in your bed.’ It wasn’t easy to convey icy disdain when you were struggling inelegantly to sit upright, but she did quite well. ‘What does that prove? Other than the obvious fact the evolutionary leap from Neanderthal has passed you by completely. I had no idea your success in the bedroom relied so heavily on beating your conquests into submission.’

  Liam was sitting on the edge of the bed facing her. Before he turned his back on her and rested his face in his hands she had a chance to see the dull colour run up under his tan.

  ‘I’d cut off my hand before I’d hurt you, Jo, and well you know it.’ As he straightened up he rolled his neck from side to side as if to ease the tension in his well-developed muscles.

  His voice, thick with anguished emotion, should have gone straight to her heart, but it went to a much more vulnerable area first—her stomach, where the muscular spasms were like tightening fists. With a cry she scrabbled to her knees on top of the quilt.

  ‘I know that, Liam,’ she cried huskily as she wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head against his back. She hugged hard as regret and love overwhelmed her. What was she doing, punishing him because she loved him? Whatever her motivation each thrust that hit home was inevitably an own goal; she felt his pain as if it were her own.

  The warmth of her slim, supple and femminely soft body penetrated through the thin knitted fabric of the shirt Liam wore. The anger and guilt he felt rolled away miraculously as she pressed so close he could feel the heat of her breath as it dampened a small patch of his shirt. As he registered the softness of her breasts pressed against his back she shifted a little to ease the pressure The tiny gesture reminded him of the changes in her body, changes he had helped bring about.

  Abruptly he twisted sideways and his fingers brought her face up to meet his. With his free hand he pulled her across the angle of his hip and onto his lap He could only feel compliance in her body and nothing she did told him he was reading her body language wrong. She didn’t speak at all, just looked at him. Her marvellous green eyes appeared slightly unfocused. He didn’t speak either, his vocal cords felt as if an invisible hand had his throat in a stranglehold. A strangle hold almost as strong as the desire that coursed through the rest of his body.

  He positioned a pillow under her head as he very carefully laid her back onto the mattress.

  Jo’s lips felt full and tender. The kiss had been controlled but thorough. She had had plenty of time to appreciate the firm texture of his lips and the flavour of his warm mouth. Time to realise how empty her world would be if she never felt his kiss again.

  ‘I can’t think of any reason in the world we shouldn’t do this.’ The distinctive gravelly edge of his deep voice was more pronounced than she’d ever heard it.

  His hands rested either side of her face as, straight-armed, his upper body curved over her. I love you, she reflected, would have been a pretty drastic reply.

  ‘Things will just get more convoluted and complicated,’ she warned him huskily. Inside she wanted him to ignore her warning, she prayed for him to ignore her warning. If his expression was anything to go by she was pretty confident he would do exactly that.

  ‘Not if we’re upfront and honest with each other. This isn’t happening just because I want to persuade you to marry me, if that’s what you’re bothered about.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ She couldn’t resist touching, ever so softly, the tensed sinews of his forearms. A tiny guttural sound of pleasure escaped her lips before she guiltily withdrew her hand.

  ‘No,’ he replied firmly. ‘But that’s not to say I won’t use it to corroborate my case.’

  His scrupulous honesty made her smile weakly. She was feeling weak—weak and needy.

  ‘Why is this happening, then, Liam?’ she asked languidly.

  ‘This is happening, Jo, because we want it to. My God.’ His voice cracked and an expression close to incredulity crossed his contorted features. ‘I don’t just want, Jo. . . !’ His chest lifted as he gulped to fill his depleted lungs with air. ‘I need. I need you and this. Tell me you do too.’

  His shirt came adrift from the waistband of his jeans as she roughly grabbed two handfuls of the fabric and tugged—hard. ‘Of course I do, you idiot!’ she hissed as his head came towards her.

  ‘I’m hellish glad you said that,’ he breathed as his long, rangy frame came to rest beside her.

  The sensuous subtlety with which he unbuttoned her blouse was only heightened by the slight tremor in his long fingers. It made her dizzy looking up at his dark face so Jo closed her eyes. Her breasts strained against the pale pink satin material of her bra, overflowing from the cups. She gave a voluptuous sigh of pleasure as he unclipped the front fastening.

  ‘Will it hurt if I. . . ?’

  Jo forced her heavy eyelids open. His expression was as raw as his tone. ‘Only in the nicest possible way, Liam.’

  He stared in fascination at the way her breasts quivered slightly as a shudder ran quite visibly over her entire body. The pinkness he could recall, quite vividly as it happened, had deepened to a deep coral defining the areola clearly against the creamy pallor of her magnolia skin. The flat of his palms against the outer slopes of her breasts, he pressed gently against her taut, firm skin. With a hoarse cry he suddenly buried his face between the twin mounds and breathed deeply to absorb the sweet feminine scent of her skin.

  When he lifted his head her fingers were still pressed against his scalp. ‘I could get drunk on the smell of you. I think I am drunk on the smell of you,’ he reflected thickly. The band of dark colour across the angle of his cheek-bones darkened and beads of perspiration emerged along his upper lip.

  Such details were lost on Jo; desire hot and urgent made her incoherent and clumsy. It was as if a great dam had disintegrated at his touch. All the emotions she’d hidden and refused to examine over the past lonely weeks engulfed her.

  ‘Drunk but not incapable, I hope.’ Her words sounded more like a plea than a joke. Liam’s eyes deepened by several shades when he realised that that was exactly what it was.

  ‘I’ll let you be the judge.’ Her small hands were cold against his heated skin. Supporting his weight on one hand, he ripped impatiently at the buttons of his shirt and, rolling briefly onto one side, pulled it over his head. ‘I can’t believe we’ve wasted so much time.’ He was deeply shocked and excited when something as simple as skin-to-skin contact robbed him momentarily of breath.

  Jo felt him shudder and she wrapped her arms tightly across his back, enjoying the leashed power in his big body. She didn’t know whether his words referred to the recent or more distant past and at that moment it didn’t matter. He was here, now, and he was hers!

  ‘I’m afraid I’ll . . . ’ She heard him mutter against her neck.

  ‘You won’t hurt me—us.’ She instinctively knew what was holding him back.

  He raised his head and Jo couldn’t focus—he was too close, his face was a dark blur. She closed her eyes as, weight supported on his elbows, he held her face in his hands. He wasn’t holding back when his tongue plunged into her mouth; there was no refined seduction in the gesture, it was raw, unrefined need. A kiss was too tame a term to describe the intimacy of the invasion.

  She fought to prolong the intimacy, her body twisting beneath his. Their clothes were shed in a frenzied haste, the process made more difficult by the fact that neither could bear to break the contact that melded their bodies together. The air was filled with soft murmurs of pleasure and hoarse cries of need.

  When his fingers slid into the damp, tangled patch between her slim thighs she cried his name in desperation. The piercing need was too great to bear. Liam’s voice soothed and coaxed, his touch was delicate and sensuous.

  The heel of his hand came to rest on the soft mound at the apex of her legs and his fingers spread
out over her lower abdomen. ‘It’s just incredible,’ he breathed. ‘You’re incredible.’

  It wasn’t just his words that cut through the sensual fog that clouded her mind, it was his strange tone. Her eyes, which had been running compulsively over the lean lines of his beautiful body, focused on his face.

  Jo saw his eyes were fixed on the gentle slope of her lower belly. They moved upwards to her face. His jaw clenched and a nerve leapt spasmodically in his lean cheek.

  ‘It doesn’t get in the way yet.’ She lowered her eyes to hide her intense response to his words and carefully placed her fingertips on top of his. Did he notice the slight tremor in her hands?

  ‘There are ways around these things.’

  ‘There are?’

  ‘Trust me.’ His mobile mouth lifted at one corner.

  ‘I do.’ The reply was swift and instinctive. She couldn’t disguise the tell-tale throb in her voice. She didn’t know what interpretation Liam placed on it, but the wicked gleam of humour in his eyes faded quite dramatically.

  ‘That’s a pretty good place to start,’ he said cryptically after a long, thoughtful pause that stretched Jo’s nerves to snapping-point.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be thinking about finishing?’ she remarked boldly. ‘I know they say you can’t have too much of a good thing, but my sanity is a fragile thing.’ Desperation left little room for subtlety and from the way his body stirred and his eyes glittered he enjoyed her candour.

  The intimacy of his caresses had brought Jo to the tantalising brink of fulfilment several times already. Her throat was so dry she couldn’t swallow, her skin burned and the heavy, hot sensation pooled in her lower body screamed out for release.

  ‘You want this?’

  As he slid into her receptive body she let out a low cry. The sense of completion seared her nerve-endings. Her head thrashed from side to side on the pillow. ‘Oh, yes, Liam!’ she cried brokenly. ‘Please!’

  ‘You need me?’ he persisted throatily as he pushed deeper inside her, giving her more, but not quite everything. His lips moved against the vulnerable pale column of her neck. ‘You want this?’ His restraint drove her slightly crazy.