But he wasn’t. Ryan was gone for nine days. To Jessie it seemed like an eternity.
On the second day after his departure, she had her sixteen-week checkup. Once again the doctor eased her off the medication for nausea, and to her delight there was no recurrence of any illness in the days afterward. But there was something that she found even more exciting than that. She could hardly wait until Ryan got home.
He called her every evening at eight her time, no matter what. Although he didn’t indicate that it was difficult, she knew that it was only five o’clock his time, and she suspected it could hardly be convenient.
The night after her doctor’s appointment, he had a thousand questions. “How big did you measure? So that means the babies are growing normally? Are you sure you should try going off your medication without me there?”
She answered them all patiently, pleased at his interest despite the inner voice that reminded her he was only thinking of the twins’ health.
She asked about his business dealings; he wanted to know about her plans to showcase some of the new merchandise she’d recently received. She told him how much savings Finn’s obsessive coupon shopping had netted him this week and they laughed about it together.
Then he said, “Weren’t you expecting a decision on that loan this week?”
The question sent her spirits plummeting as low as they’d been before she’d heard his voice. “Yes,” she said quietly. “No go.”
“Damn! What’s the matter with these people?” Frustration colored his tone, cheering her in some inexplicable way. It was nice to know he cared.
“I really miss you,” she said before she hung up. “I’ll be glad when you’re home again.” And she did. The house seemed too big and too quiet with only Finn and her in it. Although they still played games and kept to their regular activities, she felt the void that Ryan’s absence left.
And she realized that was what had been missing from her home before. She’d tried to make it her space with furnishings and special touches, but it had still felt like little more than a place to crash when she wasn’t working. And the long hours she’d worked when she was single suddenly began to look suspiciously like a way to fill up her hours so she wouldn’t have to go home alone.
Ryan had changed all that. He’d shown her how it felt to have family, to know that you were going home to share your day’s doings with someone who cared, someone who was sincerely interested, someone whom you loved.
What was she going to do after the babies were born? She couldn’t give up her gallery. It would be an incredible act of stupidity to assume that her financial security was assured. If Ryan tired of her— The notion was so painful she could hardly give it space in her mind, but she forced herself to consider it. She knew she never would willingly give him up, nor would she ever consider breaking up the family security she was determined her children would know. But the reality of her position was that Ryan held all the cards.
So back to her first concern—what to do after the twins came.
Initially she’d assumed she would continue working full-time and hire a nanny. Now the thought was unpalatable. Could she possibly continue to run the gallery as she had been, on a part-time basis?
Cautiously she turned the idea over in her head. Now that she was married and living with Ryan, she had far fewer expenses than before. She’d have to talk to Penny and see if she wanted to continue the current arrangement. She could formally give her certain managerial responsibilities. Even if she did expand, which was looking less and less likely, she could simply hire an additional salesperson.
A feeling of satisfaction spread through her at the idea. It could work, she thought.
Despite the nightly phone calls, the days dragged. She began sleeping in Ryan’s bed simply so she could feel closer to him. The doctor had agreed that she could resume working half days five times a week, so she was out of the house more, which was good.
But when she was home, she caught herself doing ridiculous things. One evening she spent two hours in the room they’d decided would be the nursery, lying on her back envisioning how to decorate it and where to place the furniture. Another night she amused herself by making lists of the furnishings in every single room of the house from memory. Then the following night she compared her lists to the real rooms, finding to her satisfaction that she’d done a pretty decent job of recalling all the stuff that was packed into her new home.
On the seventh night she told him, “I think I’ve found a name I can live with.”
“And that would be?” His voice sounded far away.
“Olivia.”
“Olivia.” He repeated it, rolling it around on his tongue. “I like it. It was originally on my list.”
“Don’t be smug,” she said, smiling though he couldn’t see her. “All right. That’s good. One out of two.”
Then he said, “I’ve been thinking about names, too. What do you think of Elena?”
“Elena.” She did what he had done. “Very pretty. Olivia and Elena…they sound nice together.”
“You realize they’re probably going to wind up being called Livvie and Lanie,” he warned her.
“Oh. Well, let me think about that.”
He chuckled. “I could live with those.”
They spoke for a few minutes longer. When she replaced the telephone in its cradle, she was smiling. She couldn’t wait for him to get home!
But her smile faded as she slipped between the crisp sheets of his big bed. He’d given her little indication that he was suffering as much as she was from their separation. He had probably been propositioned by half a dozen thin, elegant, un-pregnant women in the past week.
And though she knew Ryan would never compromise his marriage vows, she couldn’t stamp out the small ember of fear that someday he’d regret marrying a woman he didn’t love.
Eight
Ryan let himself in the back door as quietly as possible. It’s a good thing we don’t have a dog, he thought to himself.
He was beat. He was home two days earlier than he’d originally projected, largely because he’d been such a demanding SOB that his Seattle team had worked around the clock simply to get rid of him faster, he suspected. He didn’t care; all he wanted was to be home with Jessie. He’d called from the airport to tell her he was coming home but not to wait up since he would be very late.
Leaving his suit bag in the hallway, he made his way upstairs. Finn’s small apartment was on the far side of the kitchen so there was little chance of waking him. But Jessie’s room was much closer to his and he doubted she’d appreciate being awakened at two in the morning.
Although he wanted to. Badly.
What would he give, he wondered, as he passed her closed door and let himself into his own room, to be able to slide into bed with her right now? Not even for sex, although God knew he wouldn’t object to that when the doctor gave her the go-ahead, but simply to be able to hold her, to fall asleep with her in his arms. The thought was enough to make him break out in a cold sweat as he stripped off his clothes. He could barely see, but there was a dim glow coming from the almost-closed bathroom door—Jessie liked the bathroom warm, he’d learned, so she often left the gas fireplace on low.
Naked, he walked across the room to the bathroom, and after a cursory glance to be sure it was empty, he took a quick shower. He shivered as the warm water sluiced over his body, half-aroused at the mere thought of Jessie’s proximity, wishing the water was her hands sliding delicately over him. As he dried off and knotted the towel around his waist, he glanced at the closed door that led to her bedroom. He’d half hoped she would awaken when she heard him, that maybe she would at least come to welcome him home after she’d given him a decent interval to dress.
But after a moment’s hesitation he didn’t see light under her door.
Disappointed, he turned out all the lights except for the fireplace and padded across his room to the big bed against the far wall. He left the towel on the floo
r next to the bed and pulled back the covers to get into bed—
—and nearly jumped out of his skin when a female voice purred, “It’s about time.”
“Jess! In the name of—you scared me.” He relaxed the combative stance he’d assumed automatically. “What are you doing?”
Her voice was still low and inviting. “Waiting for you.”
His body, always quick to respond when he thought of her, went wild at the sultry tone. He nearly reached for her, but instead he forced himself to bend and snag the discarded towel, wrapping it around his waist. He couldn’t touch her the way he wanted to, and he knew better than to start something he might not be able to stop. “Waiting for me to do what?” As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could see her outline beneath the covers on the near side of the bed.
“To come to bed.” She rose to her knees and faced him, and his system suffered another shock when he saw what she was wearing. Or rather, wasn’t wearing. Though there was no light but in the dim glow that filtered through from the fireplace in the next room, the diaphanous material of the short gown that fluttered around her was so sheer she might as well have been wearing nothing. As she melted against him, he put his arms around her to support her, then took a deep breath as her warm, ripe figure pressed into him.
“I take it you’re glad to see me.” She felt so good against him. His pulse went up another notch as her belly sandwiched the ridge of his arousal between them and he nearly groaned aloud.
She buried her nose in his neck and inhaled deeply. “Oh, Ryan, I missed you so much.”
“I missed you, too.” He could hear the strain in his voice. “Ah, Jess, it’s not that I don’t appreciate the welcome, but—”
“Oh, this isn’t the welcome.” She lifted her head and kissed his jaw. “That comes later.”
His entire body went on full alert, if it were possible to get any fuller than he already was. “What do you mean?”
She relaxed even more against him and he fought not to whimper. “The doctor gave me the green light,” she said.
“The green light.” Did she mean what he thought, hoped—hell, prayed—she meant?
“All the way?” he asked hoarsely. “No…restrictions?”
She shook her head. “No. He—”
Her words ended in a small shriek as he swept her into his arms, careful of the mound of his babies in her belly. His mouth cut off her words; he thrust his tongue deep into the soft, heated recess between her lips, boldly kissing her the way he wanted to love her. Gently, but with the greatest possible speed, he lay her full-length on the mattress and sprawled beside her, still kissing her.
One arm was beneath her neck, holding her close against him, the other cupped her jaw and stroked the soft skin of her throat, seeking out the wildly beating pulse there and gently stroking a finger down to her breastbone. Their tongues tangled and teased, telegraphing need and relief and warmth. Sliding his mouth along her jaw and up, he pressed tiny kisses to her cheekbone, her temple, her forehead, her eyelids. As he graced the tip of her nose with a tiny caress, he felt her lips against his chin.
“Welcome home.”
He settled his mouth over hers again, resuming the deep, consuming kisses, holding his body under strict control while he pleasured her, wanting her to be ready, no, more than ready, desperate for him when he finally made her his.
His hand slipped lower and lower, barely brushing over feminine bounty until he cupped the full globe of one breast in his hand. Shaping and molding, he stimulated the taut tip of her breast, making a sound of approval deep in his throat. Her arms had been restlessly tracing the swell of muscle in his shoulders and back, but she slid them up into his hair, firmly tugging his head down until she could offer him one swollen, engorged nipple.
He tested her with his tongue, flicking over the rigid peak first, then laving slow circles around the wide, dark circle of her aureola for endless moments before he drew her completely into his mouth and began to suckle. Her back arched and her heels dug into the mattress as she sucked in one swift wordless breath.
The erotic abandon in her response nearly undid his good intentions. Lifting his mouth a fraction, he muttered against her, “I want you. Are you sure this is okay?”
“Positive,” she panted. Her hands still curled into his hair and she arched her back with a soft, unintelligible sound as he teased her nipple with the rough rasp of his thumb. “Ryan,” she moaned. “Don’t make me wait too long.”
It was all the encouragement he needed. His hand spread possessively over her belly, stroking the satiny flesh and wandering down over the bulge of her warm, smooth abdomen, and he caught his breath when his fingers snagged in the soft, curling thatch of hair between her legs. She moved restlessly, shoving her hips against him. He was overwhelmed by her, by the moment, by the realization that she was going to be his after all these years. He wanted to tell her he loved her as he urged her legs apart with a shaking hand, but his tongue wouldn’t form the words. She’d been so skittish when he’d first suggested marriage that he knew confessing his feelings would send her running.
And as his fingers slipped into the moist, humid crevice and he found slick, waiting heat, the last thing he wanted to do was break the mood. He drew his moistened fingers back, over the pouting bud he discovered at the top of the sweet vee of her legs, and began to rub small, gentle circles. She sucked in a breath and moaned.
“Ah,” he said, “do you like that?” He still had one arm beneath her head and he leaned over her, searching out her lips again before she could answer, kissing her with the same tender care he was lavishing on her body.
His own body pulsed and throbbed against her thigh, and as she shifted beneath his hands, her hip caressed him eagerly.
She moved her arms down from his neck, stroking the furred patch of skin over his breastbone. Soon, though, her hands clutched at him helplessly as he drove her higher and higher into the heights of pleasure, and short, breathless cries escaped her throat with each soft stroke of his hand. Relentlessly he drove her on and on, his own body balanced on the knife edge of control as he brought her to the brink with his hand. Her head thrashed back and forth on his arm and she sobbed, “No, no…I want to feel you…”
“What?” He slowed his pace a fraction. “What do you want?”
Her hands moved from his hair down to grip his shoulders, then slipped farther down to tug at his waist, though she couldn’t budge him. “I want you…inside me,” she pleaded.
In an instant he withdrew his arm from beneath her neck and rose to his haunches, draping her legs wide over his thighs as his jutting flesh kissed the damp, satiny portal of her body. He shuddered. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” She lifted her arms open to him. “Now. Please?”
He shuddered again, nearly undone at the honest need in her plaintive tone. Guiding the blunt tip of his arousal into position with a shaking hand, he slowly, slowly flexed his hips, forcing her open as he invaded her soft channel. “Jess.” His voice was little more than a guttural growl as he felt the dance of satisfaction skipping up his spine. “I…I can’t wait.”
“Then don’t.” As he hovered over her and began a slow, careful thrust and retreat, she moaned and wrapped her legs around his hips. The action abruptly pulled him deeper, much deeper, and suddenly the world exploded. He leaned forward, bracing himself over her on his arms, his stroke increasing as her hips slammed up to meet his. She was crying again, sharp screams of pleasure, and he could feel himself losing control. He put a hand between them and pressed firmly down just above their joining, and her eyes flared so wide he could see them even in the dark as her body began to convulse. At the same time his frantically pumping hips surged wildly forward, jetting endless streams of release deep inside her as her hidden inner muscles gripped his hard flesh. Finally, when the last sweet shocks of pleasure had passed, they both were spent and quiet, but for the gasping sounds of their breathing.
He was car
eful not to let his weight crush her, and after a moment to gather himself, he pulled back from the warm haven of her body and slid to her side, gathering her in his arms. Leaning over her, he took her mouth in a sweet, lingering kiss before he lay back on the pillow beside her.
It had been everything he’d known it would be with her. And if there was any small corner of his heart she hadn’t already owned, she had it now as she returned the kiss with a generosity and warmth that made him wonder once again if there was hope that she could love him someday.
Her whole body throbbed from his possession. Leisurely she turned onto her side and laid her palm over his heart. Love for this man who had shared so much of her life, and now shared everything, coursed through her and she had to bite her tongue to keep from blurting out her feelings. It was difficult to remind herself that though he cared for her and certainly had enjoyed her, he still carried Wendy in his heart. So she contented herself by saying, “I’m glad you’re home.”
Though it was dark, she could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m glad I’m home, too.”
She laughed gently. “I’ll just bet.”
He stirred then, gathering her closely against him so that their babies rested between them and she was wrapped in his arms. “I hated being away from you.”
“I hated you being away,” she responded, touched by the vehemence in his tone. “But you didn’t have to worry. I’m doing well, and Finn would have called you immediately if there’d been a problem.”
He turned his head, and his whiskered chin brushed her cheek as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “It wasn’t the worry,” he said quietly. “I missed you, Jess. I can’t imagine my life without you now.”
She was stunned. Pleasure of an entirely different kind exploded through her at his words. And hope followed in its wake, revived. Was it possible Ryan could let go of his past and learn to love her? There had been something in his voice she’d never heard before. She was afraid to even give it a name. But she snuggled closer against him as hope rushed through her once again, and when her eyes closed, her heart was lighter than it had been in a long time.
Billionaire Bachelors: Ryan Page 13
