Just a Little Misgiving (Shades of Deception, Book 3)

by Mallory Rush

  "I look at your bottom lip a lot."

  "You..." She couldn't seem to quit looking at his mouth. "You... do?"

  The mouth in question curled into a pleased smile.

  "You just did it again. Does that mean it's me who's making you nervous and not the doctor?"

  The examining room door yawned open, and Faith looked from Myles to the table covered by a sheet of white paper. A shapeless blue gown was draped over it. The nurse was busy dragging out a cup, a monitor, and a tape measure.

  "Both," she said in a strangled voice. She turned to him then with a plea in her eyes. "Myles, please, I don't want—"

  "Enough said. I'll wait out here until you're ready." He touched her cheek with his fingertips, then tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "I'd really like to hear what the doctor has to say, and ask a few questions. If she needs to do anything that's too personal, I'll leave the room. How's that?"

  "That's... fair," she agreed.

  Ten minutes later she decided it wasn't fair in the least when Myles entered the examining room with an expectant smile and covertly gave her a once-over. She felt at a distinct disadvantage sitting on the end of the examining table with the unflattering gown gracing her less-than-perfect body. Her legs dangled over the sides, and a quick glance assured her they were turning a mottled shade of blue. At least they were shaved, she thought miserably.

  "You don't have to look so amused," she muttered. "How'd you like to trade places?"

  "I think the doctor might have a problem with that." His sudden cough was very suspicious. "Diane said we had about a twenty-minute wait, by the way."

  Great! Twenty minutes stranded here afraid to move because she could feel the paper sticking to her bare bottom and didn't want to rip it. This situation was definitely bad for her blood pressure. A bead of sweat trickled between her breasts. She hated this. She wanted Myles, who appeared to be strangling a laugh and was still dressed in his impeccable suit, to share in her growing discomfort.

  "What's so funny anyway?" she demanded.

  "I'm sorry, it's just that..."He shook his head, and his mirth dissipated. He leaned close and murmured confidentially, "Can you keep a secret?"

  "What a question, for you of all people to ask," she observed, knowing he couldn't possibly guess he was the deepest secret of all.

  "Touché." He let his gaze drift from her bottom lip to her breasts.

  She felt a quickening there. Then lower... lower.

  "My secret is that this afternoon I looked at nursing gowns. I thought most of them were plain, but compared to this thing they were pretty darn sexy."

  "You went shopping? For nursing gowns? You're not serious."

  "Never more so."

  "But why?"

  "You said you planned to nurse." His gaze lifted slowly from her breasts. His eyes, as dark and somber as a midnight sky, were more piercing than she could ever remember. The quickening intensified to a quiver.

  "Since you said that," he murmured, "I keep imagining my baby suckling you." He touched his finger to her mouth. "I'm also envious as hell."

  Her first instinct was to bite her bottom lip. His finger caught between her teeth.

  "I was hoping you'd do that." There was a gritty edge to his voice that matched the narrowing of his eyes. "But, please, don't feel compelled to stop there."

  Her tongue seemed to have a curious will of its own, and her voice was reduced to a small whimper. She tasted a trace of soap, which mingled with the faint saltiness of skin.

  She probed the contour and taste and texture of his fingertip. He made a noise deep in his throat that was between a groan and a growl.

  Without thought she responded, closing her lips around his finger. She suckled his finger with the hunger of a babe at the breast, with the sensual eroticism of two lovers in the heat of passion. Then there was the feel of his other hand working through her hair and moving against her scalp.

  "I think you'd better stop," he said in a low, rough voice. "Because as it is, I'm burning to find out if the other things you do with your mouth are half as good as what you're doing to me now."

  With reluctance, with a thrill of sensual confidence she'd never experienced before, she complied.

  "Just what is it that I'm doing to you, Myles?" Her voice wavered slightly, but it was throaty, deep, aroused.

  "Too much and not enough. Making me want to live so that I can endure more of this torture. Making me feel until I ache." He tasted his finger where the moisture of her mouth lingered. "Making me want to forget about being polite and subtle and worried about how you'd react if I did what I've been dying to do to you."

  "Why don't you do what it is you've been dying to do, and find out?"

  Her heart was pounding so hard she wondered if he could hear it. This wasn't the man who broke an embrace when his body called to hers or who solicitously inquired how she'd slept and insisted she eat the meal he'd prepared; and she wasn't the woman who yearned in silence and doubted her ability to make him long too.

  "It might start with a kiss, Faith, but believe me, it won't end there."

  He pinned her with a gaze that reflected the starkness of his need.

  She felt as though she were seeing him for the first time. She clung to his desire, exulted in it. She couldn't let it go, not after waiting year after barren year.

  "Where would it end, Myles?"

  "Don't you know? Here." He placed her hand over his heart. It beat heavy and quick. He slid her palm down the crisp white shirt covering his hard, broad chest, then over his belt of thin leather and the smooth, chilled texture of the buckle, and then lower... lower still...

  "And here."

  She uttered a short, muffled cry. The shock, the thrill, the utter disbelief of where he had led her to touch him were almost enough to make her beg him to take her right there.

  She knew they had somehow cut through the insurmountable obstacles of who they were and what had brought them there and were now confronting the bare truth of what they could be.

  He pressed her hand over the straining thickness hidden within his tailored dark trousers, then curled her fingers into his groin. His breath left him in a low, guttural moan, and then quickly he pried her hand away.

  "And here. Faith," he whispered, this time touching her. His voice rough with emotion, he laid his hand over her belly, and she could feel him shake. "Here."

  "Myles." She laid her hand over his and made no effort to restrain the tears. Where he touched her she felt a fluttering.

  His face was transformed with shades of desire, and the torment of unsatisfied need. His eyes met hers in wonder, and a slow smile spread in understanding.

  "Did you feel that?" he asked. The fluttering sensation again. "Faith—"

  "The baby," she breathed, feeling it move within her for the first time. She'd always known it was there, but the movement, telling her it was truly alive and that it was growing inside, left her in awe and strangely humbled. "My baby," she said, feeling laughter and tears mingle in her throat.

  "No, Faith," Myles said, beaming. "Our baby."

  Moments later the doctor knocked on the door and found them in a joyful embrace, both of them laughing, with tears rolling freely down Faith's cheeks and Myles's hand resting protectively, possessively over the blue gown covering her belly.

  "That's what I love about my job," Dr. Laurentz said after explanations were made. "There's nothing more wonderful than the birth of a baby. It makes up for the down sides of my profession."

  Faith and Myles exchanged a look that said they knew firsthand of those down sides, but even the memory of tragedy and loss couldn't dim the rapture of what they'd shared.

  The doctor went over Faith's file and asked a few routine questions, then picked up the monitor. She instructed Faith to lie down. Myles quickly moved to her side, helping her to lean back.

  A sudden, irrational fear gripped her. What if something was wrong? What if the doctor couldn't get the heartbeat?

  My
les took her hand and squeezed it. "It's okay. Remember, we felt the baby move." His eyes shone with lingering delight and a silent understanding.

  "How did you know what I was thinking?"

  "Because you went straight for the bottom lip, sweetheart."

  Sweetheart! The endearment sang through her veins, making her forget her discomfort and the self-consciousness she had expected to feel with him standing there as the nurse pushed the gown up to her waist and tucked the sheet around her hips.

  As the doctor applied the cold gel to Faith's exposed abdomen, Myles held her hand tight, and she could feel the encouragement and support he willed to her.

  "Can I look?" he asked, and because he had cared enough to ask first, she found that she didn't mind.

  "Only if you don't laugh." She caught her breath when the monitor made contact with the gel and began to glide over her stomach. "My tummy's not what it used to be."

  "Unfortunately I wouldn't know any different," Myles whispered next to her ear before he shifted his attention to her slightly rounded middle.

  She watched anxiously for any sign that he found her unappealing to look at and breathed a sigh of relief when he smiled warmly before sending her a glance that shone with paternal pride. He focused on the monitor as the doctor rolled it first this way, then that, but leaned down long enough to murmur, "I don't know how you were shaped before, but I can't imagine a prettier sight than this."

  She was still glowing when Dr. Laurentz suddenly said, "I've got it!" and turned up the sound until a swishing noise filled the room. Underlying that was a quick, hollow beat.

  "Hear that? It's your baby. And he's got a strong, steady heartbeat."

  Faith clutched Myles's hand tight and a sense of such joy, of reaching beyond herself and touching heaven, caused a sob to catch in her throat. She didn't care if she cried, it was so wonderful, so perfect, she didn't care if the whole world saw.

  Myles returned the pressure of her grip, then lifted her hand to his mouth. He pressed a soft kiss on it before impulsively brushing his lips over hers.

  "Thank you," he whispered, his own eyes brimming with unspoken emotion.

  Before long, Dr. Laurentz was putting away the monitor while Diane efficiently wiped off the slippery gel before Myles gently lifted her up.

  "Now, let's see, you plan to breast-feed, right?" Dr. Laurentz asked.

  "Yes," Myles and Faith answered in unison. They looked at each other, and a sensual spark arced between them.

  "You need to toughen your nipples of course," stated Dr. Laurentz, matter-of-factly. "I imagine they're fairly sensitive."

  "Um... yes, they are."

  Myles quirked a brow; his smile broadened. "What do you suggest for that, Dr. Laurentz? Is there anything we can do to... work on getting them ready?"

  "Oh, sure. She can go braless and let the material brush against her for a few minutes each day or use a rough towel and rub them until they're not so sensitive. Be sure to keep them conditioned. Lanolin is good for that. Of course you've got a while yet, Faith, so if you want to wait, you can."

  Myles bit his tongue to keep from commenting. Faith's cheeks were a very attractive shade of pink and getting pinker by the minute.

  "But I do want you to keep up a routine of regular exercise," she added. "Nothing too strenuous, but walking, even swimming is good. And of course, you need to watch your diet. Twelve pounds isn't too bad considering you were a little underweight to begin with, but you've got a long way to go, and in those last few months the pounds can add up."

  "Don't worry, Dr. Laurentz," Myles assured her. "I'm watching Faith's diet. Well be sure she eats properly."

  "Good. Now, have you discussed delivery? You can change your minds along the way, but I always recommend Lamaze classes in the last trimester. If you're interested, I have all the pertinent information." She nodded to Myles. "A lot of husbands coach their wives."

  "But he's not—"

  "I've already got my stopwatch," Myles cut in. He narrowed his eyes on Faith, silently daring her to say more. She didn't know it yet, but he was going to be her husband before their baby was born. It was a deeply personal cause, to ensure his child was legitimate.

  But his personal cause had taken unexpected turns. How could he convince Faith and himself they could be married in name only if he kept having this gut-wrenching, heart-pounding reaction to her? He couldn't. Whatever rational ideas he'd come up with in Denver had bit the dust once Faith was in his blood.

  "Now," Dr. Laurentz said, "any concerns or questions about sex?"

  "Yes," Myles said as he looked straight at Faith, who fidgeted nervously on the table. "Sex is definitely a concern."

  "Faith's in excellent health and shows no signs of risk. Medically I see no reason to curb a healthy sexual relationship. Be as intimate as you want, as frequently as you like, until the last few weeks or so—just as long as no complications arise. Only, once the baby begins to grow... well, most couples manage to work around that."

  "Considering what we've been working around, I don't think that'll seem like much of a problem."

  Myles chuckled while Faith made a strangled noise and gripped the sheet at her hips. The doctor looked from one to the other, then gave a small shrug.

  "I'm here if you need me. Call if you have any abdominal cramping or vaginal bleeding. Otherwise I'll see you in a month."

  "We'll be here," Myles assured her. Alone again, he braced both hands on either side of Faith's hips. "So, how did I do?"

  "You did fine," she retorted. "Better than fine, coach. Even after I told her about... about the IUI, you led her to believe... to believe—"

  "That we're, umm, intimate?"

  "Yes! And not only that, you didn't let me get a word in edgewise. I just kept sitting here while the two of you discussed me like I didn't have a tongue to speak for myself."

  "But, Faith, you and I both know you do indeed have a tongue." He reached around and untied the top ribbon of the gown. "A very talented tongue, I might add. Though even an expert like yourself can always use some extra practice."

  "Myles!" she gasped, capturing his hand when he began to undo the second tie.

  "And I think you should know that I can be a real taskmaster. As your coach I'll expect you to limit your practice to me. Especially since—"

  "Myles, what are you doing? For heaven's sake... Myles! Stop that! That's the last—"

  "Especially since I consider it my solemn duty to help you work on things such as breast-feeding." He pulled her gown slightly away from her neck.

  Just far enough to press a kiss to her throat and feel the giveaway leap of her pulse.

  "I, for one, think we should give that top priority," he murmured seductively. "Rubbing and massaging your... sensitive areas sounds like very serious business to me. Certainly not to be neglected."

  "Myles." Her neck arched back, giving him access.

  "And as for your diet..."

  She moaned as he tongued the warm hollow of her throat. The eyes that met his were glazed, aroused.

  "My diet?" she said in a distant voice.

  "Mmm, yes. I definitely plan to monitor your diet. The main course today is a triple hot fudge sundae. A scoop for you and baby and me."

  "And... dessert?"

  He trailed his fingers up her bare back, then speared them through her hair. He fixed her with a purposeful stare.

  "For dessert, my dear, you get me and only me."

  Chapter 6

  "White," she insisted. "I have my heart set on all white."

  "Pastels," he countered. "Or maybe something like that cute little thing we saw in the store with red and blue teddy bears dangling around it."

  "That was a mobile, Myles." She smiled at the musical nursery lamp he'd allowed her to carry up to her bedroom. He was busy situating a huge stuffed giraffe and fussing with the layette they had selected together after feasting on the hot fudge sundae he'd promised.

  "At least we agreed on the baby bed."
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  Bed. Her gaze automatically turned to the big four-poster in the middle of the room and she tried hard not to think about what might or might not happen now that the evening was drawing to an end. Her stomach twisted tight with nerves, and her gaze skittered away.

  "I think the baby should feel like royalty with a brass bed and a canopy," she added, while her anxiety climbed a notch.

  "The baby is royalty." His brow furrowed. "You're sure he won't bang his head on that thing?"

  "Not with bumpers. White bumpers."

  "I can see you're going to be stubborn about this." He took the lamp and hooked it up beside the bed. "Turn off the lights and we'll make sure it works. By the way, I like those pastel bulbs you found." He switched on the lamp and sent her a simmering look that didn't coincide with the tinkling lullaby. "They're very soft. Romantic."

  She watched Myles sit on the edge of the bed. He held his hand out to her. She took it.

  "Stand there," he said, urging her between his parted thighs, then whispered something against her stomach. She could feel his breath through her clothes. She swallowed hard and exhaled on a shallow gasp.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Talking to the baby," he said, then placed a soft kiss where he'd whispered. "Why are you shaking, Faith?"

  "I—I don't know. I think I'm scared."

  "Of me?"

  "Of... us." She let him pull her onto his lap; she could feel the tautness of his muscles beneath. Was he shaking too? Was that what she felt as he urged her arms around his neck? "I'm afraid of what's happening here."

  "And what's happening? Say it, Faith. Let's get this out in the open where it belongs. Starting with how it feels when I do this." He threaded his fingers through her hair and exposed her neck. His lips were soft, moist. She felt the flick of his tongue against the erratic pulse of her throat. "Does it feel good?"

  "Good," she breathed. "So... good."

  "Then why are you pulling away?"

  "Because... because... Myles, I don't know." The last word caught on a sob. What was wrong with her? She'd waited for this forever, and now that it was happening she was a total mess. What if it didn't work out? What if she did something wrong? What if... what if after it was over, Myles realized it was only the heat of the moment and he was sorry for or felt guilty about what they'd done. What if...?