Hartley tugged her toward the sofa again and sat down, tumbling her onto his lap. “I want you, Fee. To a degree that’s damn scary. What do you say to that?” Brown eyes stared into hers. The humor was gone now. In its place was pure male hunger. Or maybe not so pure. His expression promised all sorts of mischief. All sorts of pleasure.
Her body responded instantly, softening, yearning. She couldn’t even barter for a short-lived fling, because she was growing a baby. A baby who was his. How was she going to tell him? For all her big speeches about the danger of secrets, she was scared spitless to expose hers.
“I want you, too,” she said, no longer able to pretend that she didn’t. There was no reason to dissemble. Soon enough he would find out that her body was fully prepared to welcome his. Damp heat at her core yearned for his rigid length to fill her and drive her mad.
That’s what it was. Madness. She should tell him he didn’t need a condom. Explain what happened on that night three months ago. Ask what they were going to do about it.
All the reasons not to make love to him tonight were valid, but she shoved them aside in the pursuit of happiness. Carpe diem. Worry about tomorrow another day.
He twisted one of her curls around his finger. “I care about you, Fiona. This isn’t casual for me.”
His sober promise should have made her heart sing. At any other moment in her life, that declaration would have been exciting and perfect. As it was, her anxiety ratcheted higher.
“There’s nothing wrong with casual. We’re both young and unattached. I’m not expecting any commitment at this point.”
Her words seemed to bother him. He frowned. “Have you been with a lot of men, Fee? For some reason, I got the impression you were a bit more fastidious about your sexual partners. Am I wrong?”
Now she was caught in the crosshairs. If she said yes, he might ultimately wonder if the baby was his. But a negative response—an admission that he’d been her only sexual partner in the last three years—might reveal more than she was willing for him to know.
She reached up to stroke his masculine jawline. The shadow of a late-day beard gave him a rakish air. “What we stumbled into at the wedding last year and then again three months ago was definitely special. We have chemistry. I’m not denying that. But I have a life and a career that don’t really intersect well with yours. Our goals are different.” I have a baby on the way, and I’m thrilled about creating a family.
“Meaning what?”
“You and I are friends. Temporary lovers. I like plain speaking. I don’t need flowery compliments or promises about the future.”
“Is this because I’m homeless and unemployed?” His wry grin was boyish and charming and totally unfair.
She rolled her eyes. “You’re a wealthy man. I can ignore your money as long as we’re playing at this relationship.”
“Hell, Fiona. I’ve never had this level of negotiation before sex. Then again, sex with you is worth a little extra trouble. So what you’re saying is that your art and your career are more important than flesh and blood relationships?”
“Of course not. Don’t twist my words.”
“Then you explain it.”
How could she? All Fiona wanted was a family and a home of her own. Hartley, on the other hand, was going to be furious when he found out about the baby. If he wanted the unvarnished truth, he could have it. “We had great sex, but that’s all it was.”
His face darkened with displeasure. “If a man had said that, he’d be pilloried. What are you so afraid of, Fiona? I won’t ask for anything you aren’t willing to give. We’re good together. Admit it.”
“I’ve already admitted it, Hartley.”
“If we sleep together right now, are you going to let me spend the night?” His pointed question caught her off guard. Guilt turned her stomach queasy and her face red. He couldn’t be here when morning came. Not the way things were with her right now.
She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze calmly. “No. I like my privacy and my personal space. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Okay then.” Before she could do more than gasp and flail in his arms, he flipped her onto her back and started unbuttoning her pajama top. She was paralyzed by her need for him. When she was bare from the waist up, he paused and sucked in a breath. “You are so damned beautiful.”
He stroked one nipple with a fingertip. His touch made her skin burn. “Hartley...”
“What?” He sprawled beside her, partly reclining beside the low sofa. When he leaned over her, took that same nipple in his teeth and tugged gently, she groaned.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered. Heat rolled through her body, making her shift restlessly. Had she closed the curtains? Rational thought fled when he dragged her pajama bottoms down her legs along with her plain cotton undies. Now she lay there completely naked, like a not-so-virgin sacrifice.
The look on his face threatened to incinerate her. His words were ragged. “Each time I leave you I think I might have exaggerated this in my mind. And then we’re together again, and I know it’s all true. My hands are shaking, and I can barely breathe. That’s not normal for a guy my age. I don’t know what happens when I touch you...when we touch each other.”
The trace of bewilderment in the midst of his arousal reflected her own conflicted emotions. Only now, she had the added bonus of worrying about whether she had a baby bump that would tip him off.
“Enough talking,” she muttered.
He chuckled, but stood and ripped off his clothes. His sex was stiff and eager. Had he always been so...big? Maybe it was because the lights were on or because he loomed over her.
“Let’s go the the bedroom,” she pleaded.
A dark flush rode high on his cheeks. The skin stretched taut over the planes of his face. He was the conquering hero...the ravaging marauder. The intensity of his focus on her made her shiver.
“No,” he said bluntly. “Can’t wait.”
He moved her like a rag doll, sitting down on the sofa and spreading her legs across his body. Before she could do more than gasp, he entered her with a forceful push. His back arched. He cursed softly. And then he captured her mouth in a frantic, hungry kiss.
This position made her feel deliciously vulnerable. Her hormones went wild, plunging her into a quick, sharp climax that didn’t last nearly long enough. “More,” she demanded.
“Whatever the lady wants.”
Seconds later he tumbled them both to the floor. Her simple rug might never look the same to her again. He lifted one of her ankles onto his shoulder and thrust hard, all the way to her womb. The pleasure was a sharp-edged jolt, so searing, she wondered for a moment if they should be doing this. What did she know about being pregnant?
It was all theoretical until it happened to you.
Then he bit the inside of her thigh and she forgot to worry about anything but the magic they were creating together.
Hartley braced himself on his arms, slowing his movements until both of them were panting.
“Did you lose your way?” she asked, the words undeniably petulant.
Her pique made his masculine grin broaden. “It’s called building the tension.”
“Did you read this in some manual?”
“Are you criticizing my technique?”
She reached up and brushed the lock of hair from his damp forehead. It fell immediately back over his eyebrow. “This isn’t casual for me either,” she whispered, admitting defeat.
Her words stunned him visibly. She saw the shift in his gaze. The flare of heat. The exultation.
Gently, he disengaged their bodies and picked her up in his arms, a feat which took considerable strength considering she was on the floor.
“I wasn’t done,” she complained.
“Patience, Fee.” In her narrow hallway, he bumped the bedroom door open with hi
s hip and carried her to the bed. “I need soft sheets for the finale.”
“Since when?”
He kissed her nose. “Since I decided to impress you with my romantic prowess.”
It wasn’t even funny, because it was true. Somehow he had managed to inject tenderness into their sexual insanity. That scared her so very badly. Because he was not going to be able to give her what she wanted and needed. He’d already told her that.
Sex, he could do. Family and forever, not so much.
She’d never had much luck with forevers. Even worse, this particular situation was snakebit from the beginning.
“Come here,” she said, holding out her arms.
He settled on top of her with a groan, resting his forehead against hers. There wasn’t room between them for a sheet of paper, much less a secret of the enormity of hers.
What was she going to do?
“You’re amazing, Fee,” he said, filling her again, igniting the flame that had been banked for a time. “Wrap your legs around my waist.”
When she did, he slid his hands under her ass and lifted her into his thrusts, giving both of them that extra measure of perfection they craved. She was close, so close.
Hartley shuddered and found his release, his breath warm on her cheek. His scent surrounded her, marking her sheets, making it impossible to pretend he didn’t belong here. He was everywhere, filling her feminine bedroom with the force of his personality.
Rolling to one side, he stroked her sex, drawing a quick ragged sigh from her parched throat...sending her over the edge into warm, drowsy completion. “I love how you do that,” she said.
“Do what?” he asked, the words slurred as his eyes drifted shut.
“You know exactly how to touch me.”
He yawned, turning her and spooning her from behind. “It’s my superpower, Fee.”
Ten
Fiona woke up some time before dawn. Three things became clear in an instant. A very large, warm man had her wrapped in the pure bliss of his muscular arms. She had to pee. And her stomach had begun its morning calisthenics.
Her choices were limited. She could wake him up and physically shove him out of her house. That seemed mean and cold. She knew he hadn’t meant to stay in defiance of her wishes. The two of them had been exhausted, Fiona from being pregnant, and Hartley from working at his new property.
So, if she wasn’t willing to kick him out, she had to somehow make it to the bathroom and conceal the fact that morning sickness was about to take its toll. Again.
It was still dark, though the clock on her bedside table told her dawn wasn’t far off. Slowly, she began easing out of Hartley’s embrace. Even those small movements made her forehead break out in a cold sweat. The timing didn’t make sense. Most people were sick during the first twelve weeks and finally got better in the second trimester...or so she had heard.
Then again, she’d known women who struggled with nausea the entire nine months, so who knew? Surely that wouldn’t happen to her. She had to work. No work meant no pay. She certainly didn’t want to get a reputation for being late on commissioned pieces. That wasn’t who she was at all.
How was Hartley going to react? She wanted him to be happy, but that wasn’t going to happen. Would he stay away from the child entirely? Or would he want even a minor role?
She had to tell him soon, so they could make plans for the future. Or so she could.
How could she keep from breaking her heart again and again if she and Hartley were always connected by this unexpected baby?
Thankfully, Hartley never stirred as she extracted herself from her predicament. Because her house was old, the bathroom was in the hall, not attached to her bedroom. She was able to throw up—twice—wash her face and tiptoe to the kitchen without disturbing her guest.
She didn’t turn on the lights. Instead, she heated a mug of water in the microwave, added a tea bag and sat at the table, cradling the cup in her hands. Though it wasn’t cold in the house, her shivers came from the inside out. Getting sick so violently left her feeling weak and shaky.
How did women stand this?
Gradually, she sipped her drink and her mood stabilized. Females had been handling this situation since the dawn of time. Fiona, herself, was more resilient that most. She’d had to be. This pregnancy was a curve she hadn’t seen coming, but she would deal with it. Somehow.
Hartley startled her when he appeared in the doorway. There was enough light filtering through the window now for her to see that he had pulled on his pants and nothing else. Broad naked chest. Big bare man feet. He was an alien presence in her neatly feminine environment.
He raked a hand through his disheveled hair. “Sorry, Fee. I didn’t stay on purpose.” His voice was gruff and low, roughened by sleep.
She shrugged. “I know. We were both beat.”
“I’ll let myself out in a minute. I wanted to say goodbye.”
Suddenly, she was teary and emotional. Stupid pregnancy hormones. She patted the table. “Come sit. Make coffee if you want to. Everything is there on the counter.”
He glanced at the empty coffeepot. “What are you drinking?”
“Hot tea.”
He put a hand on her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. “You doing okay, darlin’?”
His concern made her want to sob. She had to get a grip. “I’ve been pushing myself too hard lately. Not eating well. Feeling a little rotten today.”
Once the coffeepot was burbling, he sat down beside her, rubbing her back. “Poor baby. What can I do to make it better?”
Rewrite the past. Tell me you’d love to have a dozen kids. Go away and never come back.
That last one was a huge, wretched lie. She wanted Hartley, and she wanted Hartley’s child growing inside her. The kicker was, she didn’t see a way for all of that to happen at the same time. Or ever.
“I’ll be fine.” She finished her tea, wishing she had a second cup.
“Why don’t you take a day off?” he said. “You’re the boss...right?”
“Yes. But being self-employed isn’t for sissies. I have to think about things like quarterly taxes and health insurance premiums and mortgage payments.”
“Ah.” He stood and poured his coffee.
Fiona had been afraid the aroma might provoke her nausea, but thankfully, the smell was more comforting than anything else.
When Hartley sat down again, he studied her face. “I have a proposition for you,” he said.
“It’s too early in the morning for propositions.”
He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, sending tingles all over her body. “I’ve noticed a few things on the outside of your house...maintenance issues.”
She interrupted him, feeling defensive about her beloved bungalow. “I know. I have a gutter that needs repairing. The roof lost a few shingles in that last storm. And the eaves need painting. It’s a question of time and money, Hartley. I’ll get to it.” Somehow.
“Hear me out,” he said. “I was thinking you might take in a boarder.”
“A boarder? I only have one bedroom.”
“True. But you have a very nice sofa. My new place is three streets away. It would be damned convenient for me to be close during the renovation. I could pay you rent, and,” he said, “in the evenings, I could do a few handyman projects around your house.”
Fiona closed her eyes. It was too early in the morning to be doing battle with a charmer. “I’ve already told you. I like my privacy and my space.”
“Your studio is in the back of the house. I’ll stay out of your way. You won’t even know I’m here.”
Her brain was muzzy. She could smell the scent of his sleep-warmed skin. All she wanted to do was go back to bed. You won’t even know I’m here. Was he kidding? He filled up a room with his smile, which was exactly what got her
into this mess in the first place.
From the moment she met the handsome groomsman who was going to walk her down the aisle at their mutual friends’ wedding, she’d been a goner. Never had she met someone like Hartley. He was a combo of Viking marauder and Saint Bernard puppy. A stubborn alpha male who shaped the world to his liking but could laugh at himself and coax a woman into his bed with the twinkle in his eye. It was almost impossible for her to get mad at him, because he was so genuinely well-intentioned.
Hartley thought he could control the world, or at least his corner of it. That was why he was now estranged from his brother and why Fiona questioned telling him about the baby. He’d made up his mind not to have kids.
How would he react when she told him it was far too late?
She rubbed her temples. “You have plenty of money, Hartley. Find a hotel nearby. There are dozens of them.”
“I lived on the road for over a year. I missed you, Fee. I missed having sex with you. I want to be here. Under your roof. Platonically if necessary until you can trust me again.”
“Do you really think I’ll sleep in my bed, and you’ll be on the sofa? Come on, Hartley. I’m not that naive.”
His thumb strayed up her arm, teasing the inside crook of her elbow. “That would be entirely up to you.”
She pressed her thighs together. Now that her nausea had abated, arousal settled heavy in her abdomen. “I can’t deal with this right now. Take me back to bed. It’s too early. My brain doesn’t work.”
“Whatever you want, Fiona.” He picked up her hand and sucked her pinky finger, his teeth raking her knuckle.
Holy hell. Had she always had that erogenous zone, or was pregnancy making her insatiable?
She jerked her hand away with a gasp she tried to turn into a cough. He had far too much ego as it was. No need for him to know he could reduce her to mush so easily. She fled down the hall. It wasn’t even seven yet.
When she climbed under the covers, Hartley was right behind her. He nuzzled the back of her neck. “Do you want to sleep or screw?”
Her helpless giggle was mortifyingly girlish. “Do I have a choice?”
Bombshell For The Black Sheep (Southern Secrets Book 3) Page 9
