Duncan fumbled with the zipper, and she sat up and brushed his hand away. “Let me do that.” Her voice had dropped to a hoarse whisper. The sound of the zipper, the rustle of material and the muffled moan from deep within Duncan’s broad chest when Tamara reached through the opening of his boxers to find him hard and heavy were added to the sounds. There was no pretense. She wanted him and she wanted him inside her.
“Don’t!” His hoarse cry exploded in the room.
Duncan divested himself of his clothes and shoes, sweeping them off the bed to the floor. When Tamara’s hand closed on his sex again he prayed not to spill his passion on the sheets. His hands were shaking as he leaned over to open the drawer in the bedside table. He knew he had to slip on a condom before undressing Tamara or he would go inside her without protection. His hands had steadied enough for him to open the packet and slip the latex over his erection.
Tamara closed her eyes, letting her senses take over. She felt Duncan search for the zipper to her dress. They sighed in unison as it gave way and he was able to ease the dress up and over her head. A slight chill shook her when the cool air kissed her exposed flesh.
Duncan moved over her again, trailing light kisses over her throat, down her breastbone and to her belly. Her hands tightened into fists. He pressed his mouth to the triangle of silk and breathed a kiss there. The heat from his mouth added to the fire that threatened to singe her.
Looping his fingers in the waistband of her panties, Duncan eased them down Tamara’s smooth thighs and legs so slowly that it set her teeth on edge. “Please, please,” she pleaded shamelessly. He was torturing her.
Duncan knew what she wanted because he wanted the same. Tonight there was to be no prolonged foreplay. He’d waited too long for a woman like Tamara to come into his life. Bracing a hand on each of her knees, he spread them apart as he lowered himself over her prone body.
Tamara smiled. Reaching between their bodies, she grasped his penis, guiding it into her body. Throwing back her head, she bit on her lip as he eased his erection into her celibate flesh.
The soft moans coming from the back of her throat at the slight pain eased; the pain was replaced with a pleasure she’d never known as Duncan established a rhythm that raised tiny flesh bumps all over her body.
Duncan was close, but he wanted to get closer. Sliding his palms under Tamara’s hips, he lifted her off the mattress at the same time as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Going to his knees, he pulled her to him, she arched her back in an attempt to get even closer. The sensation of his testicles beating a rhythmic tattoo against her thighs made his erection larger, longer and it became his undoing. He felt the intense tightening in the sac and the burning at the base of his spine. He didn’t want it to be over until Tamara climaxed. He lowered her hips, his hands moving up to cover her magnificent breasts.
Tamara gasped when Duncan gently kneaded her breasts. His fingers swept over the nipples until they were as hard as pebbles. Her breathing was coming in deep pants as the throbbing between her thighs intensified. The walls of her vagina contracted, relaxed, then contracted again, each time stronger and with more intensity.
Pulling back slightly in an attempt to delay ejaculating, Duncan plunged deeper, harder. Each time he pulled back, it was a little farther and each time he plunged, it was a little deeper. He took long, measured strokes before quickening them. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead and upper lip.
He felt her contractions squeeze his blood-engorged sex, and Duncan knew he couldn’t hold on any longer. Lowering his head, he buried his face against Tamara’s neck and groaned, yielding to the burning need that made him crave a woman who’d come into his life when he’d least expected.
Tamara lost count of the orgasms overlapping each other and leaving her unable to move. Even when the moment of ecstasy had passed, she lay motionless. Only the rising and falling of her chest indicated she was still alive.
I love him.
That was her last thought before she succumbed to the sated sleep reserved for lovers.
CHAPTER 11
Daylight had filtered through the sheers when Tamara opened her eyes to stare at a broad brown back. The ache, albeit pleasurable, between her legs was a reminder of what had happened the night before. She remembered sitting down to dinner, drinking a glass of wine and eating only half her dinner before she and Duncan came upstairs to make love.
I love you. The three words came back and she sat up, pulling up the sheet to cover her breasts. Had she told Duncan that she loved him? Please no, she prayed silently.
“Why are you moving around so much?”
Tamara froze. She hadn’t realized Duncan was awake. “I just remembered I have to take care of Duchess.”
Duncan rolled over, smiling. “I took care of her already.”
Tamara ran a hand over her mussed hair. “When did you take care of her?”
“About an hour ago. I put down clean wee-wee pads, gave her some food and fresh water. When I left her she was chewing on a teething ring.”
She gave him a dazzling smile. “Thank you for taking care of my baby.”
He lifted his expressive eyebrows. “Don’t forget, she’s also my baby.”
Tamara sucked her teeth at the same time she rolled her eyes. “I don’t think so, Duncan Gilmore. You can’t give me a dog as a gift and then expect me to share it with you.”
Reaching out, Duncan pulled the sheet from her loose grip, his gaze going to what he hadn’t been able to see the night before. “Yes, I can,” he said, staring at her breasts.
Tamara swatted at his head, deliberately missing him. “No you can’t. And stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what, baby?”
“Like a pervert.”
He licked his lips, then moved with lightning speed when he fastened his mouth to one breast. He caught the nipple between his teeth. “Now, who’s a pervert,” he mumbled.
Tamara felt the sensation sweep down her body to her vagina when he tightened his grip on her nipple. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but it turned her on. She gasped when his hand swept up her thigh to find her wet and pulsing with a desire only he could assuage.
She was totally unprepared for the maelstrom and the onslaught of emotions and sensations that assailed her when Duncan released her breast and moved down her body to bury his face between her thighs. Her fingers caught the sheet, holding it in a death grip as her whole body flooded with desire.
She was on fire!
Duncan had awakened her dormant sexuality. His mouth and tongue were relentless, taking Tamara to heights she’d never known. Passion and love radiated from her core to her extremities.
“No more, Duncan,” she pleaded. She couldn’t take any more because she feared losing herself in what had become a raw act of possession and power.
But Duncan was relentless. It was his intent to wipe away the memory of every other man who’d touched Tamara, any who’d kissed her, and all who wanted her. He wanted to be the last man in her life, and if he no longer existed then she would be left with the memories.
Tamara found the strength to sit up. Pushing against his broad shoulders, she attempted to push his head up, but she wasn’t strong enough. Her fingernails biting into the column of his neck did the trick. He glared up at her, and for a brief moment Tamara shrank back. She rested a hand over her throat as if to protect it from the menacing teeth of a predator.
Duncan pounced on Tamara, suckling her breasts. The unbridled turbulence of his passionate assault left her shaking uncontrollably. Love, passion, desire merged, becoming one. The trembling inside her heated her blood and she knew only Duncan could extinguish the fire. She reached for him, finding him hard and ready. His hand closed over hers when he pushed into her heated body.
Time stood still while Duncan made love to Tamara as if it were the last time. Gusts of passion shook them from head to toe, ending in a soaring, uncontrollable moment when they climaxed simultaneously.
The enormity of what th
ey’d done hit Duncan when he withdrew from Tamara’s moist warmth. He’d made love to her without using a condom. He felt his heart beating all over his body, and believed he was having a panic attack.
“Tamara!” Her name came out in a strangled cry.
Something in Duncan’s voice penetrated the fog of lingering ecstasy, and Tamara sat up quickly. “What’s the matter? Talk to me, Duncan!”
He took deep breaths to slow down his respiration, and within seconds it was over. “I’m okay.”
Placing a hand over Duncan’s chest, Tamara counted the beats of his heart. It was within the normal range. Smiling, she buried her face between his neck and shoulder. “Talk to me, darling.”
“I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Done what, darling?”
“I didn’t use a condom.”
Raising her head, Tamara saw the look of distress on his handsome face. “Do you have an STD?”
“No.”
“Then what are you so upset about?”
“What if I get you pregnant?”
“And if you did, Duncan? It wouldn’t be the end of the world, at least not for me.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you wouldn’t have it? You’d abort my baby?”
“Come now, darling. Don’t be so melodramatic. Remember, I am doctor. I swore an oath to save a life, not take one.”
“That means you’d have it?”
Tamara knew it was time to stop teasing him. “You’re not going to get me pregnant because I’m taking a low-dose contraceptive to regulate my periods. My cycle has always been irregular, but even more so the past two years. I would have a flow, then go months without one. At first I thought I was entering early menopause until I had my estrogen level checked. It was within the normal range for my age, so my gynecologist prescribed a low-dose birth control pill.”
Duncan didn’t know whether to be buoyed or disappointed by Tamara’s revelation. He’d told his aunt that he felt ready to become a single father. The only drawback would be delaying the adoption until after he completed the MBA/JD program. He didn’t want to adopt a child, then transfer the responsibility of raising his son to a nanny or housekeeper.
He’d want to do all the things with his child he hadn’t experienced with his own father. Duncan would teach him to ride a bike, take him to sporting events, visit the zoo and amusement parks, teach him to swim and most importantly help him with his schoolwork, all the while stressing education is the key to success.
Cradling her face in his hands, Duncan gave Tamara a long, penetrating look. “Do you want children?”
Now it was Tamara’s turn to discover her heart pounding in a runaway rhythm as she found herself fighting her feelings. She didn’t want to need Duncan as much as she did, because after her divorce she’d taken an oath never to want or need another man in her life.
Edward’s flaw wasn’t that he couldn’t be a faithful husband, but that he had a weakness and obsession for gambling—something with which she couldn’t compete. He’d taken all of her money, sold the only home she had and even taken her furry companion, only to give it to someone else.
It had taken Tamara a long time to figure out what she had done to Edward to make him resent her and turn on her with such savagery. If she’d snarled at Duncan initially it was because experience had taught her she had good reason to.
“I don’t know, Duncan,” she said after a pause. “I suppose it would depend on the man.”
Duncan lowered his hands and grasped her waist. “Since we never got to finish dinner, I’m going to treat you to breakfast at the Empire Diner.”
“No, you’re not, Duncan Gilmore. You didn’t spend eight hundred dollars on food only to spend more going out to eat,” Tamara chastised, smiling. “After we shower we’re going down to the kitchen and you are going to make breakfast.”
“What if I can’t make what I want?”
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Chicken and waffles.”
“You’re in luck, darling,” she crooned. “Of course there’s chicken, and waffles. And for someone who admits to barely being able to boil water, you have every appliance and kitchen doodad known to man, so I know you’ll have a waffle iron.”
“The decorator ordered them.”
“Good for him or her, because we’re going to rattle some pots.”
“Damn,” Duncan swore under his breath, “a brother can’t catch a break for nothin’.”
“No, he can’t. Not with this sister-girl.”
He watched as Tamara moved off the bed and walked toward the bathroom, unable to pull his stunned gaze from her sexy curves. There wasn’t one straight line on her tall frame.
Cupping his groin, he swallowed in an attempt to relieve the sudden dryness in his throat. Duncan couldn’t believe he wanted her again. Waiting until his erection went down, he slipped off the bed to join the woman who’d unwittingly offered him a second chance at happiness.
* * *
Duncan stepped out of the taxi, then extended his hand to Tamara to assist her. He’d had her all to himself for two days and was loath to share her with his friends. They’d cooked together, made love, cooked again and made love again and again. It was as if they couldn’t get enough of each other.
Surprisingly he’d taken to cooking like a duck to water, but only after he’d gotten over his initial reluctance. When he’d lived with his aunt there hadn’t been a reason to learn to cook because Viola always prepared enough meals every Sunday to last for a week.
Once he entered high school, Duncan bought breakfast at a corner deli before classes and ate school lunches. Dinner was easy because his aunt worked at a neighborhood school and most times she was at home when he arrived.
His ritual changed in college: he’d skip breakfast and eat lunch at the many delis on Twenty-Third Street or Park Avenue South. Viola stopped saving dinner for him. Most times he stayed in the library studying until the school closed down for the night, or he shared dinner with classmates or the girl he was dating at the time.
What saved Duncan was that he rarely ate fast food. He frequented eating establishments that advertised selections that were prepared daily.
He’d discovered that Tamara was a firm but patient teacher. She’d only have to demonstrate carving meat or filleting fish, slicing and chopping onion and garlic and peeling veggies and fruit once and he was able to replicate it. Marinating proved a bit more difficult—he substituted Worcestershire sauce for balsamic vinegar because both were the same color. The length of time for cooking baffled him completely until Tamara went to the store, returning with digital thermometers that showed the temperatures for rare, medium rare and well done meats.
Tamara leaned in closer to Duncan when he rang the doorbell to the Georgian-style brownstone on Strivers’ Row in the St. Nicholas Historic District. It was apparent that the boyhood friends from the projects were living out their dreams. The exterior of Kyle Chatham’s home was exquisite.
The door opened and a tall, dark and breathtakingly handsome man wearing a white golf shirt, khakis and brown leather sandals beckoned them in.
“Come in, come in, come in,” he crooned.
Duncan looped an arm around Kyle’s neck. “Thanks for the invite. Kyle, I’d like you to meet Tamara Wolcott. Tamara, this is Kyle Chatham, friend and brother.”
Tamara offered her hand, but Kyle ignored it as he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Welcome.”
She met her host’s glittering, warm brown slanting eyes. His face was angular with high chiseled cheekbones. There was a sprinkling of gray in his cropped hair. Duncan had told her that Kyle had just proposed to a young woman, and they planned to marry in Puerto Rico on Valentine’s Day.
Where, she mused, were men like Duncan Gilmore and Kyle Chatham when she’d been looking for a good black man? She berated herself as soon as the thought entered her head. The answer was she hadn’t been looking; she’d spent half her time studying and the other h
alf working long hours, leaving little or no time for a social life.
She’d had more fun cooking and making love with Duncan in the past two days than she’d had since she’d begun medical school. Earlier that morning he’d made breakfast. One of his favorite dishes was eggs Benedict and Tamara had showed him how to substitute smoked salmon for the Canadian bacon, which reduced the sodium content.
Tamara smiled, handing Kyle a cake box. “Here’s a little something for dessert.”
Kyle took the box, his gaze narrowing. “What’s in here?”
“Cannoli,” Duncan said. “I know they’re your favorite.”
“Hot damn, DG, you’re the man!” Kyle said, grinning from ear to ear. “Let’s go in the back.”
“Who’s here?” Duncan asked, reaching for Tamara’s hand and following Kyle across a spacious foyer with a marble floor into an über-modern kitchen and out a back door to a patio where people milled around talking, eating and drinking.
Tamara breathed a sigh of relief. She’d thought she was going to be overdressed when she’d opted to pair a white shortsleeved silk blouse with a pair of navy linen slacks. The nautical theme was repeated in a pair of blue-and-white striped espadrilles that added an additional three inches to her statuesque figure.
“Micah and Tessa, Ivan with his date, and Jordan and his girlfriend.”
Duncan lifted his eyebrows. “I didn’t know Jordan had a girlfriend.”
“He does and she prepared most of the food. Natasha is in her last year of culinary school.”
Duncan caught Kyle’s arm, pulling him aside before he began the introductions. “Tamara would like to talk to you about a legal matter.”
“What is it, Tamara?”
“I need a referral for a very good divorce attorney.”
Kyle stared at the tall, stunning, full-figured woman who could easily pass for a model. He hadn’t expected Duncan to bring a date, because it’d been a long time since he’d seen his friend and financial manager with a woman he felt comfortable enough with to introduce to his friends.
“I usually don’t handle divorces,” Kyle admitted, “but my partner has handled a few. If you want a shark, then Jordan is one of the best. He’s the one with his arm around the chef. Come and I’ll introduce you to him.”
Man of Fortune Page 15
