Caught Up in You

by Andrews, Beth

  He hadn’t romanced her. Hadn’t sent her flowers or cards or candy. He wasn’t good at any of that. He preferred the direct route. He was attracted to her and she to him so why bother with a bunch of stuff that didn’t matter. Except it did matter to some women. He hadn’t given her romance, but it wasn’t too late for him to seduce her.

  He flipped on the lamp on the dresser. It wasn’t the flickering of candlelight but it did cast the room in a soft, warm glow. Harper smiled at him almost shyly, certainly with nerves but also, he hoped, anticipation.

  He kissed her again, long, slow drugging kisses. Their mouths clinging then parting, their tongues touching then retreating. He cupped her head, let his other hand rest above her breast, just over her heart. It beat, strong and a bit unsteady against his palm. He kissed her again and again until they were both breathless and then he shifted, moved his mouth across her cheek up to her closed eyes, down the bridge of her nose.

  She was perfect. Lovely and sweet, and she deserved to be worshipped. He’d enjoy worshipping her. He trailed his mouth across her jaw and her head fell back, granting him access to the long line of her throat. He flicked his tongue out, tasted the saltiness of her skin.

  Straightening, he undid the top button of the silky blouse she’d changed into before they’d gone out, keeping his eyes on hers. Her hands were at her sides, her fingers curled into fists. He slid his gaze down, watched as he revealed inch after inch of delicate, pale skin. Another button and he caught sight of the lace of her bra. He made quick work of the rest of them until the material fell open slightly, revealing the curve of her breasts, her belly button, hints and glimpses as tantalizing as Harper herself.

  Eddie shoved the material aside, pushed it down her arms where it bunched. He took her hands, rubbed them gently until she relaxed, letting her fingers open so that the shirt fell to the floor. He undid the button of her jeans and she inhaled sharply. He tugged down the zipper, pulled the sides of her jeans down her legs, let her put her trembling hands on his shoulders while she stepped out of them. He kicked them aside. Blew out a ragged breath.

  She stood before him in nothing more than a white bra and light blue panties, the lamp casting her skin in a golden glow. He swept his gaze up from her bare feet with the bright pink polish, up her curvy legs and hips, over the slight roundness of her belly to her full breasts. Her nipples were tight buds pressing against the thin material of her bra.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  And saying that to her was the easiest, the most natural thing in the world.

  Now he’d show her how beautiful he found her. He kept his touch light as he skimmed her neck, her shoulders, traced the edge of her bra with his fingertip. He couldn’t get enough of her, the feel of her under his hands, under his mouth. He placed hot, openmouthed kisses along her clavicle bones, dipped lower to brush across the swell of her breasts. He inhaled her fragrance, that scent he’d become so familiar with, the one that drove him mad, that would always remind him of her.

  Reaching behind her, he undid her bra, tugged it off. Heat suffused him. She was perfect. He touched her breasts, lowered his head and sucked one taut peak into his mouth. Feasted on her, on her sweetness and fire. She combed her fingers through his hair, held his head still with one hand, the other clutching his shoulder as if he was her only touchstone, the only thing keeping her upright and balanced.

  He flicked his tongue over her nipple then moved his head to the other breast, slid his hands between her hips and her panties, his palms cupping the curve of her waist. Shoved her underwear down, trapping her legs together as they caught at her knees. He kissed his way over the slight ridges of her ribs, across the slope of her belly. She was all lush curves, like a goddess come to life, her skin warm and so soft he couldn’t stop touching her. Couldn’t stop making sure she was real, that for tonight, she was his.

  He fell to his knees, slid her underwear off, then trailed his hands up the backs of her legs. She shuddered. He pressed his face against her mound, inhaled her unique scent.

  She stiffened.

  Though he wanted nothing more than to taste her, to bring her pleasure with his mouth and tongue, he wouldn’t push her into something she wasn’t ready for. He kissed her there, allowed himself one quick flick of his tongue, then straightened, kissing her voraciously. She returned his hunger as he walked her back toward the bed. Her gaze locked with his as she crawled, backward, onto the middle of the mattress, the movements doing some really interesting things to her breasts, the roundness of her belly.

  He stripped off his shirt and threw it aside, made quick work of his jeans and underwear, remembering at the last minute to grab a condom from his wallet before he joined her on the bed. He kissed her, touching her breasts, her stomach, her legs, until she writhed beneath him, her skin hot and damp with sweat. He slid his hand lower, brushed her curls. She lifted her hips and he grinned against her mouth.

  Yeah, for tonight, she was all his.

  17

  HARPER COULDN’T BREATHE, could barely think. Maybe that was for the best when thinking would only take her out of this moment, this surreal, wonderful moment in time. She didn’t want the guilt to seep in, didn’t want to hear that little voice in her head telling her it was too soon, that she shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t want Eddie as much as she did.

  But how could she not when he touched her so gently, so reverently? When his mouth and hands were on her, bringing her body to life? Making her want him so urgently?

  Still kissing her, those mind-melting kisses that made her crazy, he slid his hand lower. And lower until he cupped her. She squirmed, her hips lifting in supplication, her hands reaching for him, grabbing him for purchase, as a sign that he should keep going, to please, please keep going. As if hearing her silent plea, he flicked the pad of his finger over the sensitive bud at her core. Again. Then again.

  It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, but it felt so good she couldn’t complain that he was teasing her, bringing her to the brink this way. He settled his hand on her, rubbed harder. Faster. Her breathing quickened, her pulse sped. Pleasure coursed through her, spiraling higher and higher.

  And when he slid one finger inside of her, that pleasure spun out of control, zipping through her with enough force to have her back arching, her hands clenching on Eddie’s arms. A long, low moan ripped from her throat as her orgasm crashed through her, leaving her body sated, her muscles lax.

  Eddie rolled away long enough to cover himself and then he was back, kissing her again, settling his warm, solid body on top of hers. The tip of his erection nudged her inner thigh. Hot. Hard. He gripped her butt, pulled her down and entered her smoothly, slowly. As if knowing this was a big moment for her, a huge moment, he stilled, deeply embedded inside of her, letting her body adjust to his size.

  He raised up onto his arms, his hands flat on the bed by her head. “Okay?” he asked, his arms shaking with the effort to contain himself, his mouth tight, his eyes dark with want.

  Tears pricked her eyes but this wasn’t the time for crying. Even if those tears had been caused by him being so sweet, so concerned.

  She smiled up at him, touched his cheek with the back of her hand. “Much better than okay,” she whispered.

  He smiled and it took her breath away. Then he was kissing her again, moving inside of her, and breathing became unimportant. All that mattered was the man on top of her, inside of her. The feel of his body, the way his muscles bunched and flexed with his movements, his scent. They were what was important to think about. To try and remember. Eddie Montesano was making love to her.

  And she didn’t want to ever forget a single thing about this, about their first time together. Not when she knew, better than most, how fleeting these perfect, life-altering moments could be.

  She had to remember as much as possible, the rasp of his tongue against hers, the light scratch of his whiskers on her skin, the taste of him. But he quickened his pace, his fingers digging into her hips, his ches
t rubbing against her overly sensitized nipples causing them to peak and tighten. She wanted to embed his every move into her memory but how could she when every move had desire building again, had her satisfied body craving more?

  Time seemed to splinter into pieces of movement—the brush of the hair on his legs against hers, the sound of his breathing by her ear, the feel of his breath on her neck. He shifted, pulling her down on the bed even farther. She wrapped her legs around his waist, the move bringing them even closer, letting him go deeper. He pumped into her again and again. Pleasure built inside of her and she came once more, this time riding the wave of her orgasm as it washed through her.

  “Eddie,” she gasped, and he looked at her, startled, questioning, already slowing, but she shook her head, pumped her own hips to encourage him to keep going. She’d just wanted to say his name. For him to know he was the only man she was thinking about, that she knew who she was with and that she wasn’t wishing he was anyone else. She held his gaze. “Eddie.”

  Emotion swam in his eyes and he kissed her, his body milking her own pleasure until he followed her over the edge with a rough groan.

  Minutes later, Harper’s body was cooling, her breathing returning to normal. Eddie padded into the attached bathroom, returning a moment later, not the least bit self-conscious about his nudity. Then again, why should he be? He was beautiful, his shoulders wide, the muscles of his arms, chest and abs defined. Dark hair covered his chest, trailed down his flat stomach.

  She, unfortunately, didn’t have his confidence and ducked under the covers, pulling them up to her chin. He climbed in next to her, gathered her in his arms and pulled her against his side. He brushed her hair back, kissed her temple. He tucked her head under his chin and sighed, a sound of complete satisfaction.

  Well, she had been rather amazing, if she did say so herself.

  The whole experience had been wonderful. Special and romantic and perfect.

  Really, really perfect.

  She pressed her face against the crook of his neck and burst into tears.

  * * *

  SHIT.

  Panicked, Eddie sat up and Harper’s head fell back with a dull thud against the headboard.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, frantic, as he tried to figure out what was going on. He’d just been drifting off to sleep, thinking that if round two was going to be anything like round one had been, he was one extremely lucky— and quite possibly spoiled and overindulged—man, when Harper had started crying.

  He could handle crying, he assured himself. He had a younger sister, and while Maddie wasn’t one for waterworks very often, she’d had her moments. He’d also been married, and Lena had used tears as a way to manipulate him into doing what she wanted—it had usually worked.

  So, yeah, he had experience with women crying. He hadn’t lived in a cave his entire life.

  But he’d never, not once, had a woman he’d just made love to—and had thought he’d done a damned good job—cry while still in bed with him.

  “Hey,” he said gruffly, wanting to sound compassionate and caring, wishing like hell he knew the right thing to say. “You okay?” He winced because obviously she wasn’t okay. Idiot. He laid his hand on her shoulder, relieved when she didn’t turn or pull away. “Did I...did I hurt you?”

  Had he been too rough? He’d thought she was right there with him but what if she hadn’t been? What if she regretted what had happened between them? What if she hadn’t wanted it as much as he had?

  He quickly thought through everything that had happened from the moment he’d stepped into the hall and found her there waiting for him. No, he hadn’t pushed her, had tried not to even rush her. He’d given her plenty of opportunities to stop him.

  Still, he’d done something wrong. He’d made her cry.

  Feeling inept and useless, he climbed out of bed and yanked on a pair of sweatpants lying on the chair, went into the bathroom and grabbed a box of tissues and a glass of water. When he returned, she was sitting up, his comforter clutched to her chest, her hair wild from his hands, from their lovemaking, the delicate skin along her chest and around her mouth pink from his whiskers. Her makeup smudged.

  She made his heart stop, made him want to hold on to her and never let go. He practically shoved the water at her. “Here.”

  She took it, her hands unsteady, and drank deeply, set the empty glass aside then plucked three tissues from the box and mopped her face, gently blew her nose. “I’m sorry. God, what a mess. Maybe it’d be better if I just went home—”

  “I can’t let you drive home when you’re upset,” he said. “Let me get Max and I’ll take you.”

  And for some reason he’d never understand, that made her tear up again.

  “Sorry,” she said, covering her face with a tissue. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

  “I think you do,” he said softly. He waited until she met his gaze before continuing, “Tell me.”

  She swallowed, lowered her hands to her lap. “I’m not sure I even understand. I’m afraid if I try to explain, I’ll get it all mixed up.”

  “You won’t.”

  She knew how to use words, how to tell what was in her heart, what her thoughts were.

  But she wouldn’t even look at him now, was staring at her hands as she picked apart the tissue.

  “Do you regret what just happened?” he asked, half afraid to hear her answer. Realizing he needed to know the truth even if it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

  Her gaze flew to his. “No. No,” she repeated firmly. “That’s the problem,” she said barely above a whisper.

  “I don’t get it.”

  “That’s because it’s crazy. Why am I crying? I mean, being with you was...well...it was great. And I don’t regret it, not one bit. Because I don’t, it’s like I’m really ready to say goodbye to Beau and it’s like I’m...”

  “Losing him all over again?”

  She nodded. “It’s stupid. He’s gone. He’s not coming back and he wouldn’t want me to be alone. I just can’t help feeling a bit emotional, you know?”

  “And guilty?”

  She exhaled heavily, her shoulders falling. “Maybe a little. But it’s not your fault,” she assured him quickly. “I don’t want you to think I’m comparing you to him or vice versa or that I was thinking of him while we...when you were...”

  “I don’t. I’m not.” He couldn’t be jealous of a dead man. Not when Harper was here with him. But he’d known she’d been truly with him, she’d said his name, had wanted him to know she knew exactly who was making love to her, and he appreciated that.

  “Good. That’s good.”

  “I’m not jealous that you loved your husband,” he told her. “We’ll take it slow. Maybe tonight was too much, too soon—”

  “It wasn’t,” she said, scrambling onto her knees, grabbing the comforter at the last moment before it could slide off. She took a hold of his hand. “I thought it was perfect.”

  So had he. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. She was so giving, so open, and he took that openness, took all she had to give without giving much back. She’d shared her body and her thoughts with him. She trusted him.

  The least he could do was trust her in return.

  “Lena didn’t want any kids,” he heard himself say.

  Harper frowned. “Excuse me?”

  “On Halloween, when we were walking home you told me Beau wanted four kids. Lena hadn’t wanted any.”

  “So Max was unplanned?”

  “Not quite.” He knew he’d have to start at the beginning, would have to share the story of his marriage, his greatest mistakes and failures. “Lena and I dated for only six months before we decided to get married. I wanted to settle down, and we loved each other and couldn’t figure out any reason to wait.”

  “You can know a lot about a person in six months,” Harper said.

  “We were okay for a while. The first year was great but by the second we were arguin
g more and more. Lena started bringing up divorce but I didn’t want that failure. I figured if we both tried harder, we could force it to work.”

  “Sometimes that’s what it takes,” Harper said, as always compassionate and trying to see all sides of an issue. “I hadn’t realized how hard it was to live with another human being until I got married. Sharing every part of your life, compromising on so many things...it takes a lot of work each and every day.”

  “I was willing to work at it. Lena went along with it. Things still didn’t get better, and even though I knew at that point I didn’t love her anymore, that maybe I never had, I brought up the idea of having a baby, a way to bring us closer. I thought if we had a child together, that bond would strengthen our marriage and we’d be this instant family and everything would be okay. I’m still not sure why Lena went along with it but two years into our marriage, we had Max. Lena tried, but she didn’t know much about kids. She missed her family, her friends in Chicago, and wanted the opportunities for her career she could have there. When she told me she was leaving, that she wasn’t cut out for marriage or motherhood, that she wanted to focus on her career, I was relieved she was leaving but I still felt like I’d failed my son because I hadn’t been able to keep my family together.”

  “That is such bull,” Harper said with enough venom, Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Max’s family is intact and right here. You are his family. Your parents and your grandfather and your brothers and sister. That little boy has more family than he knows what to do with. He’s lucky. Lena is the one who’s missing out.”

  He was grateful she thought so. “I’d like to believe Lena realizes what she gave up, but I’m afraid something else pushed her into wanting to spend more time with Max. At the beginning of the year, she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer.”

  “That’s horrible. But she’s okay now?”

  He nodded. “Max doesn’t know. Lena didn’t want to worry him and I...I don’t want him to know it took a life-threatening illness to make her realize she wants to be a bigger part of his life. I just can’t bring myself to ask her how big of a part. I’m afraid she’ll want shared or even full custody.”