The You I Want For Life (A Mother's Love Book 2)

by Alison Kent

  She’d rock them to sleep at night, and... and...

  She didn’t have a rocking chair. Oh, God, she didn’t have a rocking chair. How could she not... of all things...

  Oh, God, she needed a rocking chair.

  With her fingers pressed to her lips, she took a deep breath. Her sense of calm returned, along with a new sense of purpose. She knew the rocking chair she wanted.

  The rocking chair she needed.

  Now.

  Chapter Seventeen

  CHELSEA MET HER AT the door of the barn and padded silently alongside as Eden walked through the dimly lighted woodshop. The rocker sat where she remembered and, though tempted to sink down and rock her suddenly exhausted body to sleep, Eden headed for the staircase in the far corner of the shop, still wondering what foolishness had driven her here.

  Her sense of desperation had no logical basis. She knew that. Logically. But knowing she was running on high-octane emotion gave her need to put her house in order an acute edge.

  She stood at the bottom of the staircase feeling stupid, almost nauseous and totally tongue-tied. What was she going to say to explain away her impromptu visit? Why hadn’t she called?

  It was eleven thirty p.m., for Chrissake.

  At least Jace appeared to be up, judging from the bass beat booming down and the sliver of light shining from beneath his door. She screwed up her courage and moved onto the first step.

  Chelsea exploded, a blinding flash of silver fur, a rapid-fire fit of barking and a low-throated feral growl. Again. And again. Eden froze and plastered herself against the wall.

  A spotlight from above flooded the staircase. The door shot open. Jace stood in silhouette.

  “Eden, what the hell? Chelsea. Cool it!” Jace bounded down the stairs. Chelsea dropped at Eden’s feet, tail wagging, an apologetic smile on her doggy face.

  An hysterical giggle babbled from Eden’s throat. “Chelsea, cool it? What kind of obedience school did you send her to, Morgan?”

  Reaching her side, Jace grasped her wrist. Her pulse fluttered erratically beneath his touch. He glanced at her face.

  “You okay? Is it the babies?”

  She shook her head. “It’s stupid. Really. I’ll just go back home. Forget I was ever here.”

  She tried to back away, but he cupped her elbow and guided her up the stairs.

  “You come out here at near midnight, your pulse beating like a wild thing, and you think I’m gonna let you go? Think again.”

  “I owe the pulse to your dog. Guess you’re glad to know your Alaskan security system’s in perfect working order.”

  She stepped over his threshold; he closed the door behind her. Slowly, she turned.

  A towel hung around his neck. His hair trailed in wet clumps to his shoulders. He smelled of sweat. The Houston Astros T-shirt stretched across his chest was sizes too small. His baggy gray jersey shorts hid nothing of what he was. And his bare legs were as gorgeous as the rest of him.

  She swallowed hard and dropped her gaze to the floor, and the baggy white crew socks sagging at his ankles.

  Jace released her and headed for the black lacquer entertainment center stretching the width of one wall. He lowered the volume on what sounded like heavy metal and returned to her side.

  “Look, Eden, I just finished working out. I’ll run take a shower and we can talk.”

  It was then that she saw the huge work-out setup in the middle of the floor. It seemed to be his only furniture, but for the futon folded out in the corner.

  “I really only came for the rocking chair.”

  He dragged his hands down his face in weary confusion. “The rocking chair?”

  “I know. It’s stupid.” She gestured expansively with her hands and began to pace. “But after you took me home I started cleaning up in the shop, and in the house, and got to the nursery and realized I don’t have a rocking chair.”

  Silence settled, a thick tension into which they did no more than breathe. Jace blinked. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple to his throat, and Eden measured his visible pulse against her own.

  Finally, he blew out a weighty sigh and placed both hands on her shoulders. The imprints of his fingers warmed her back.

  “Eden, you could’ve called if you needed the rocking chair.” He backed her up until her knees hit the weight bench. “Sit here while I shower. I’ll be back in ten minutes and we’ll talk.”

  She nodded and watched him walk away. It was all she could manage amid her confusion. Once he’d gone, she glanced around, grounding herself. Jace’s words shattered any self-delusion of why she was here.

  The loft was one huge low-ceilinged room. In a far corner alcove, copper-bottom pots hung suspended over a butcher block. A single bar stool kept sentinel beside it. Off to the right, a shuttered folding screen shielded a second recessed area. The sound of running water flowed from behind.

  She turned. A brass floor lamp cast a circle of light over the black-covered futon, leaving the rest of the room in shadow. The pale, cream-colored walls softened the stark severity of the room.

  Eden leaned back against the inclined headrest and propped her arms on the butterfly extensions. With her legs crossed at the ankle, she stretched out the length of the bench.

  And that’s when she noticed the pictures. Eighteen black-on-cream mattes and ebony frames boldly displayed pieces of Jace’s past. Framed pencil sketches of impossible buildings, black-and-white drawings of fantasy homes, skylines without end.

  His talent balanced Chloe’s in a structured sort of way, but his imagination was her equal. And he’d suppressed this incredible gift, along with so much else of himself because he’d allowed his success to destroy him.

  But God, he still dreamed. He denied it all, but he still dreamed. Keen-edged compassion stung Eden’s eyes, constricting the band of tension pressing down on her chest.

  She exhaled long and forever, knowing she’d come here seeking solace. But now she couldn’t leave without giving Jace the same.

  She drew up her legs as far as pregnancy allowed, tucked her skirt under the toes of her ballet flats and leaned her forehead on her knees. The water stopped running.

  She waited.

  A door opened.

  She waited.

  The scent of soap and dampness drifted into the room.

  And the waiting grew taut.

  Without looking up, she knew he was there. Her heart pattered sharply in her chest. She curled her toes and ran damp palms down her shins, smoothing the cotton jumper along with her nerves.

  Wearing nothing but red jersey knee-shorts, Jace straddled the bench. Eden closed her eyes as his weight settled at her feet.

  With the barest pressure of one finger, he lifted her chin. “Look at me, Eden.”

  Oh, God, she couldn’t. Not with so much bare skin and so few clothes between them.

  “Eden. Look at me.” He leaned forward; his breath fanned her temple. His hair smelled like the deep woods, dark and green and earthy, a place she wanted to get lost in, to escape from the beginnings of arousal trailing through her.

  She opened her eyes. Jace’s sizzled, and the steamy burn heated her blood. Was she ready for this? What a question. This was exactly why she’d come.

  She rubbed the toes of her shoes in a nervous gesture; her fingers brushed his inner thigh. She left them there, and he didn’t move back, just lifted his leg, brushing rough hair along the tips of her nails.

  She shivered and patted the side of the bench. “You work out on this thing every night?”

  “Some nights longer than others.”

  “Tonight?”

  “About the longest. Pretty much maxed myself out.”

  “Then I should go,” she said, though she made no move to do so. “You’re probably tired.”

  “No.” He inched closer, spread his legs wider.

  Desire rose in Eden’s throat, then dropped to her chest where she couldn’t breathe anyway.

  “I’m not tired,” Jace
went on. “Just trying to work off some excess energy. I don’t think it helped.”

  Not a bit, judging from the taut lines of his body.

  “I know how you feel. I went home thinking how nice it would be to crash after this Spring Fest week. Instead, I spent three hours cleaning my house.”

  “And you’re not tired either.”

  “No.” She took a sighing breath. “I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever get a full night’s sleep again.”

  “So what’s this about the rocking chair?” he asked, fingering the edge of her hem where it brushed her toes.

  “It sounds so ridiculous now. But I was upstairs in the nursery picturing how it will look once everything comes together and I realized I don’t have a rocking chair.”

  “And you needed it tonight.”

  She lifted one shoulder. “Just one more thing I needed to settle.”

  “So here you are.”

  He’d moved up her leg now, his fingers running the scale from her ankle to her knee.

  “Yeah. Here I am.”

  He reached her thigh, spread his fingers wide and squeezed. “Did you come for the rocker? Or did you come to settle things with me?”

  She wasn’t used to demands for honesty from anyone but herself. And this type of honesty was the hardest of all, for it could change her life. “What do we have to settle?”

  His gaze charred a hole through her resolve. “What don’t we have to settle? There’s so much business unfinished between us, we could be here all night. If I’m the real reason you’ve come.”

  His words scared her and rightfully so. “I’m frightened, Jace.”

  He made a sound then, a laugh that held no humor, or a ripping apart of his soul. She couldn’t tell. He took her hands, splayed them on his chest. “You think I forgot to dry off here? No, baby, this is absolute terror.”

  Her hands lingered, testing the slickness of his skin, feeling his heart thunder through her fingers. “What do you have to be afraid of?”

  “You. Me. Me hurting you.” His finger trailed along the edge of her scooped neckline, dipping beneath, running the swells of her breasts.

  He flicked open her jumper’s top button with his finger, flicked the second with his thumb. “Taking chances. Not taking chances. Reaching out. Holding back. The same things that frighten you.”

  A third button opened, a fourth popped free. The heat welling from his skin seared her flesh. With trembling fingers, she gripped his hand, holding on while he loosened the next four buttons to her waist.

  Short and shallow, her breath rushed from her lungs. “Then we’re in no better position than we were three hours ago.”

  “The physical we can work around. The emotional, well... one thing at a time.” Another button. Another, and he reached her knees.

  Glimpses of her serviceable cotton panties and her sturdy maternity bra peeked through the widening gap. She wished for nothing more right now than to be decked out in satin and lace.

  For Jace to see her this way the first time brought unexplainable tears to her eyes. “So what are you doing? Making a move or taking a chance?”

  He released the final button, the one at her hem, then sat back and braced his palms on his thighs. “Both.”

  She choked back a sob, caught her lower lip between her teeth. Her body ached; her fat, ugly, traitorous body ached, wanting to give him pleasure, to hold him close, to take him inside and show him her love without speaking the words.

  But how could she, when she couldn’t even see her own damn feet?

  “Are those tears, Eden? Do you want me to take you home?”

  What she wanted she couldn’t put into words, and a big hole in the floor right about now would save her from having to try.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She sniffed back a wad of misery, huddled in on herself to hide her glaring imperfections. “What I want is to please you, but how can I when I’m so fat and—”

  “Oh, baby.” He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her upright, making sure her gaze was trained on his. “You’re not fat. You’re pregnant. And you please me just by being here. If you don’t want to take this any further—”

  “I do,” she interrupted, shocked at her own temerity. “I just don’t see how—”

  He stopped her words with a quick, hot kiss. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

  He rose then and crossed the room, easing up the music’s volume until the bass beat low in the pit of her stomach, intensifying the throb nesting there.

  Clutching the parted edges of her jumper in tight fists, Eden licked her lips. Anticipation coiled madly; a steady stream of sensation tightened the ball of writhing nerves burning like hot coals at her center.

  Jace lowered the light, sending the room into shadows, images, dark shapes and darker fantasies. A rustle of cloth and Jace returned.

  Naked.

  Eden’s imagination shut down, faced with such riveting reality. Light brushed him intimately, shading and contouring with free will. His muscled chest and flat belly she’d caressed. His buttocks she’d molded with her palms. And his powerfully built legs she’d glimpsed for the first time tonight.

  But the other part of him nestled so proudly between his legs took her breath away. The beauty of his living flesh rendered her tactile memory vain.

  She’d touched him and stroked him and made him come, but she’d never imagined the naked picture as a whole and found herself in awe.

  “God, you’re beautiful.” Her whisper drifted into the darkness.

  He spread his shorts on the padded bench, straddled the cloth and sat, settling himself at her feet. He removed her shoes and dropped them to the floor. His thick length rested on the top of her feet, the softness below on her toes.

  “No, Eden. You’re beautiful.” He reached up, pulled the barrette from her hair; his hand lingered along the shell of her ear, the slope of her jaw, her neck.

  His gaze never wavered, his eyes a blue flame of seduction. With sure fingers, he parted her jumper, slipped it from her arms, sending it into a heap behind her.

  “So beautiful,” he whispered, then leaned over and touched trembling lips to hers.

  Both palms against his jaw, she caressed his face, her fingers shaking, the stubble of his beard an erotic marking of their differences.

  He gripped her shoulders, deepening the kiss, claiming her mouth with a fierce sweep of his tongue. Her hands slid to his biceps to hold on. He scooted closer. She felt him pulse and lengthen and grow harder still.

  Her feminine response started deep inside, seeping down to ease his entry. He groaned, a tortured sound, released her shoulders and palmed the backs of her knees as he lifted her legs over his. Her thighs tingled, her smooth skin scraped by his coarse hair. He moved in closer, pressing against her, his erection full between them.

  He feasted at her mouth, tiny strokes of his tongue on her lips, long minutes spent learning the limits of a kiss. There were none, she discovered, only the agony of waiting and wanting more. Slick tongue rode slick tongue, a thrusting setup for the most intimate act yet to come.

  She gripped his legs, her anchor in his storm, and rode the swells of ebb and tide... first avid hunger, then a sated lull before passion lured them back to the fiercely wild, open-mouthed kiss.

  Hooking her feet in the small of his back, she pulled him closer, feeling his heat through panties grown damp.

  He let go of her legs and reached back for the clasp of her bra. Eden shrugged it off, watched his eyes heat and flare, and responded to his gaze with a hard clench of her sex. Then she leaned back, offering Jace her swollen breasts.

  His eyes misted and glazed. Chest forward, head back, she arched her neck, gripped the bars overhead for support and held on. Jace leaned forward, trailing gentle kisses over the upper swells, the plump undersides. Her engorged nipples peaked at the touch of his tongue.

  He suckled hard, pulling her deep into the warmth of his mouth. A whimper crawled from her throat and
she dug her heels into his buttocks. Deep below her womb, bones shifted and stirred.

  His hands moved to her cotton-covered belly and stroked, moving lower, as if taking measure of how they would fit. He lifted his head, returned his mouth to hers and moved both hands to the waistband of her panties.

  “You got more of these at home?”

  She only nodded. She couldn’t speak.

  The sound of tearing fabric ripped through the air. First one side, then the other, and her panties no longer proved any obstacle, or barrier, or safety net. She was vulnerable now, spread wide open with no going back. It was a trip she was eager to travel.

  He strung kisses over the mound of her belly, her navel, the stretch marks at her sides. And Eden died a little more with each touch of his lips, each sexy foray of his tongue.

  She was ready to explode by the time his knuckles grazed her thighs, from one leg to the other. Through the thatch of curls between her legs. Back and forth. Over and over. The barest touch of a butterfly’s wings, the sweet brush of promised heaven.

  “God, Eden. You smell like apricots. Like long, hot, sexy summers. Like warmth.” He lifted his head then, moved his lips to her mouth. “I’ve been cold so long. Eden, baby, please make me warm.”

  She tilted her hips up in answer. The tip of his erection, full and ripe, pressed against her. She gripped the padded bars of the butterfly extensions, and Jace settled his hands beneath her hips, pulling her forward until she sat on her spine.

  The muscles of his thighs flexed beneath the back of hers and he eased inside, a slow, steady entry that went on forever. Eden prayed like she’d never prayed before. That they were doing the right thing, that regrets wouldn’t destroy this new beginning.

  But then Jace moved, wiping all concerns from her mind, her only conscious thought the velvet stroke of his body in hers. He loomed above her like some pagan god, his skin burnished gold, a fine sheen of sweat and lamplight turned low, his wet hair a crown of jet adorning his head.