by Diana Palmer
“Stop,” she whispered huskily. “You mustn’t!”
“Hush,” he ground out against her lips. His hands went under the top to unfasten her bra. He moved it away and then she felt his cool fingers against her hot skin, soothing the ache he’d created.
“Oh, please,” she said in a hoarse whisper. Her hands helped him, gathering the top under her chin as she arched, to let him look at her, to invite his mouth. “Please, Rourke, this isn’t fair!”
He cupped her gently, nuzzling the taut mauve peak with his nose and then his lips before he took it into his hot mouth with a slow, sweet suction that made her body clench with delight. She stopped protesting and her eyes closed.
His free hand slid to her jeans and found the top button unfastened. He smiled against her breast as he moved the zipper down so that his lean fingers could lie flat and possessive over the soft swell of his child.
“Can you feel the baby yet?” he whispered, lifting his mouth so that it was poised over hers.
“Not really,” she said unsteadily. “It’s too soon for him to move.”
“He’s tiny,” he said, searching her eyes. “I saw a picture in one of the books. At two months, he’d fit into my hand, but he’d be perfectly formed.”
Her blood surged at the look on his face, at the soft, deep words. “You’ve had women,” she said slowly.
“A few,” he said quietly. “Never like you, that night. I was barely able to get my clothes off in time. That’s why you’re pregnant. I lost control completely.”
“I did, too,” she said. “It felt so sweet when you started to touch me. Nobody ever had, like that. My skin was so hot it burned, and I wanted yours against it.”
His mouth crushed down onto hers while his hand worked to get his shirt pulled up. He lifted her in a gentle arch so that her breasts met and flattened against his cool, hair-roughened skin. She shivered. Her body wanted him instantly. It was that simple, that profound.
“What if Mack comes in?” she gasped when he lifted his head again.
He saw the desire in her eyes, the need. His own was fierce. “I’ll lock the door, in case he comes back.” He did, and came back to her, stripping off his shirt on the way. Everything else followed it, until he was nude and blatantly aroused.
She didn’t have the will to protest. Her body was already taut with desire. It knew his intimately and wanted it, demanded it. It had been such a long time. He was the father of her child, and she loved him. She lay very still under his hands while he undressed her. But when his mouth pressed down hungrily on her stomach, she cried out.
His body slid onto the cool coverlet beside her, dark against her paleness. His eyes glittered even as he smiled at her undisguised eagerness.
“God, I’ve gone crazy remembering,” he breathed. He looked down at her breasts, touched them reverently while she watched his hand, breathing unsteadily at the erotic sight.
He bent and kissed her breasts slowly, enjoying their softness. His body eased down, so that he was hard against her hips, and his powerful legs eased between hers in a lazy rhythm that belied the faint tremor in his body.
She felt him touch her intimately, probe and draw back, both hands beside her head on the coverlet while his body fenced gently with hers and he laughed deep in his throat at the way she reacted.
He teased her with his body while his mouth toyed and tormented hers in the hot silence of the room. And all the while she watched him with her heart shaking her breasts, her body shivering with the need he was escalating to urgency.
“Do you want me?” he whispered wickedly, advancing and withdrawing his hips, watching her body arch in a desperate seeking motion.
“Yes,” she moaned, gasping. “Please, Rourke, please!”
“Not yet,” he breathed, brushing his mouth over hers. “You don’t want it enough.”
“Yes…I do!”
He bit her lower lip and his movements became more sensual, more provocative. The faint rhythmic probing caused her to shudder and pull at his arms.
“No, you don’t,” he whispered. He kissed her roughly and abruptly rolled over on his back. His arousal was so blatant that she couldn’t drag her eyes away from it. “If you want me, you’ll have to take me,” he taunted softly, his eyes so sensual and dark that they made her tingle all over.
She didn’t know how to, but her body was on fire. She needed him desperately. With more enthusiasm than skill, she straddled his hips and, blushing, tried to join her body to his. He smiled with pure arrogance at her efforts and finally took pity on her. “Like this, little one,” he whispered, lifting and guiding her.
She gasped out loud when his invasion met with no resistance, and he smiled hotly.
“Now,” he breathed, grimacing as the pleasure shot through him. “Move on me, like this.”
He taught her, welded her to him with steely fingers on her thighs, watched her with fierce possession. He’d never liked this position with other women, but it was madly exciting with Becky. He liked the shy fascination in her eyes, the way she blushed when he lifted her and made her watch. Most of all, he liked the exciting little noises that jerked out of her when the pleasure began to take her.
“You aren’t quite strong enough for this,” he whispered when her muscles gave out. He turned her so that she lay beside him, one lean hand gathering her hips so that he could control them.
“Now, look at me,” he whispered.
She opened her misty eyes and looked into his as he moved against her, inside her, with a slow, steady rhythm that was audible when their damp bodies touched. “Feel me.”
“Oh!” she cried out, shuddering, at the first sharp twinge of pleasure.
His lean hand slid down, pulling her hips roughly to his. “Harder,” he whispered huskily. “I want you so close that we’ll have to be pulled apart. That’s it! Yes!” He ground his teeth together and his other hand joined the first, his fingers biting into her soft thighs as he moved rhythmically, faster and faster, his eyes still blazing into hers, his breath jerking out.
She heard the springs under them, his tormented heartbeat, his breathing, but her attention was focused on the hot tension building in her lower spine and beginning to radiate outward at a fantastic rate. She clung to his muscular arms, moving with him as the pleasure built, weeping a little at the intensity.
“Look at me,” he said roughly. “I want to see your eyes when you feel it.”
She tried, but the spasms came suddenly and sharply, and after one shocked gasp, her eyes closed while she spun around in a hot maze of anguished fulfillment.
“Becky.” He groaned harshly. His breath caught and then he cried out, his hands contracting on her thighs as he shuddered fiercely against her in ecstasy.
It seemed a long time before he released his painful grip on her, but he didn’t let go. His arms enveloped her gently and he cradled her, his body still intimately locked with hers while they struggled to breathe.
“We…shouldn’t have,” she whispered miserably, a little ashamed of her weakness.
“We made a baby together,” he said softly. His mouth brushed her cheek, her neck. “You belong to me.”
“Rourke…”
He rolled her over on her back, his powerful body between her legs, his arms catching his weight. He held her eyes and began to move, very slowly. Her arousal was instant and ardent, and she gave in without a protest.
This time was slower and sweeter, and the explosions were as tender as the kisses they exchanged. His mouth held hers captive as the shudders rippled through their locked bodies simultaneously in fulfillment.
“So tender,” he whispered against her lips. “You and I never do this the same way twice. Each time is new and beautiful and utterly satisfying.”
She hid her face in his damp throat, clinging to him. Her body sagged with weary pleasure. “You seduced me.”
“Seduction is selfish. This wasn’t. My intentions are purely honorable. I’ve done everything I can think
of to get you to marry me and give my child a name, but you won’t. I want you. And you wanted me.”
She couldn’t deny that, but it didn’t make her feel any better about her easy capitulation.
She pushed experimentally at his shoulders and he lifted his head.
“It’s all right,” he whispered. “You can’t get pregnant when you already are.”
She hit his chest. “You beast!”
“I’m not a beast. I’m a normal man with normal appetites, and I can’t live like a eunuch. My God, do you have any idea how beautiful you look when your body achieves satisfaction?” he asked softly, holding her shocked eyes. “Your skin glows. Your eyes go black except for a tiny band of pale green. Your lips swell and part, and you look like a siren. I lose it when I watch you,” he breathed huskily. “Looking at you pushes me over the edge.”
She averted her face, her cheeks red.
“You won’t watch me, will you?” he murmured dryly. “Does it embarrass you, to look at me when I’m totally at the mercy of my body?”
“Yes,” she confessed.
“You’ll get used to me. This is a deeply personal thing, Becky. There are no rules, no requirements, except pleasure. The sharing is the most important part of it.”
“It’s just…sex,” she moaned.
He tilted her face back to his. “Don’t ever say that again. Sex is a commodity. You and I don’t have sex, we make love. Don’t cheapen it with cold labels just because you find it embarrassing to go to bed with me.”
“I don’t like casual interludes!”
“It isn’t an interlude, or casual. You’re carrying my child. And sooner or later, you’re going to marry me,” he added.
“No, I’m not!” she raged. “You don’t love me! You just want me.”
He stared down at her angrily. She was blind as a bat and naive as a child. Why couldn’t she see it?
“Think what you like,” he said curtly. He lifted himself, amused at the expression on her face when he separated them, at the way she averted her eyes.
He got up and dressed while she pulled her own clothes back on and tried not to look at him.
He pulled her up from the bed and framed her face in his hands, his body lean and strong and warm against hers while he looked at her solemnly.
“You belong to me in every way there is,” he said quietly. “I’m not going away, and I’m not giving up. You might as well get used to having me around. Mack and Granddad need me, and so do you.”
“They don’t like you,” she muttered.
“Mack does. Your grandfather will come around.” His hands slid to her hips. “Becky, you’ve got my baby in your body,” he whispered, shocking her. “If you could just manage to trust me, a little bit, we could have a good life together.”
She lowered her face to his chest. “I trusted you once,” she said miserably. “You betrayed all of us.”
He couldn’t answer that. He straightened. “I did my job,” he replied. “My job has nothing to do with you and me and the baby.”
She bit her lip. “All right. I’ll think about what you said. But I don’t want this to happen again, please,” she whispered, her eyes glancing toward the bed.
He tilted her chin up and searched her mutinous eyes. “I can’t promise you that. I want you too badly. What we did in that bed is as natural as breathing,” he said. “Desire isn’t the black plague. You and I are going to be intimate for a long, long time, and we have a child to raise. I’m offering you a commitment, for life. If you don’t like making love out of wedlock, marry me, then.”
“My family…” she began miserably.
“You have to decide whether I come first or they do,” he said firmly. “Let me know when you work it out. Meanwhile, I’d better get home. Will you be all right alone?”
She nodded. “Mack won’t be gone very long.”
He looked down at her quietly. “You think I’m being cruel, forcing you to choose, but there’s a reason. You’ll understand one day.”
She didn’t reply. He let his eyes run down to her stomach and then he turned away and left the room.
She didn’t see him out. She had a lot to think about. He was going to make her choose between her family and him, and she didn’t know how in the world she was going to do it—especially after today.
She spent Sunday going to church, visiting Granddad, and worrying. By the next morning, she was a nervous wreck.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Rourke dragged out of bed early Monday morning, and when he thought about all he had to do, he almost climbed right back in again. His consolation was that Granddad was almost surely going to get better now, which would take one more burden off Becky’s shoulders. It felt rather nice to have someone to look after, he thought absently. Uncle Sanderson had been self-sufficient and independent right up until the sudden heart attack that had killed him instantly. Rourke had never been responsible for anyone except himself. Now he had Becky and the child to think about. Because of them, he had Clay and Granddad and Mack, as well. He smiled as he remembered Mack’s antics in the car, Granddad’s sudden display of temper, and Clay’s belated friendliness. It didn’t feel bad at all to have a family, even if he was its unexpected acting head and half of it hated him.
Then he thought about what he and Becky had done in her bed Saturday, and his body went hot all over. It was magic with her. He wanted her completely, achingly. If only he could make her understand that she was entitled to her own life—that it wasn’t wrong to put her happiness first.
If having to choose between him and her family was the only way to open her eyes, it would have to do. She had enough pressure, but the baby was growing by the day. He had to get her to a minister, and soon.
He got through his most important tasks early in the morning at work, and arranged to get Clay a new cell mate. Interfering in the way the county sheriff’s department ran the jail wasn’t something he usually did, but these were special circumstances. He explained the problem to the sheriff, an acquaintance of many years, who immediately solved it.
“How do you feel about people who pass bad checks?” he asked Becky as they drove to the nursing home to get Granddad. He’d picked her up at her office, grinning when Maggie gave him a curious but amused look.
“Well, I don’t think I know any people who pass bad checks,” she said. She was wearing a green print dress that made her look younger, and while the gauntness was still there, it was less evident this morning. “But they probably do it out of desperation, don’t they?”
He chuckled and lifted his cigar to his lips. “They do it out of greed,” he said. He glanced at her. “But they make better cell mates than rapists. I’ve just have one moved in with your brother. You can go and see him whenever you like.”
“The bad check passer, or my brother?” she asked with the first glimmer of humor in her voice that he’d noticed recently.
“Either or both,” he replied. He glanced at her and smiled. “Feeling better?”
“Yes,” she confessed. She let her eyes meet his shyly, and then she averted them to the window as vivid memories of two days before washed over her. His ardor seemed to grow, and she couldn’t deny him. She hoped he didn’t think less of her for her inability to say no, but she was too uncertain of herself to ask him. “You gave my grandfather a reason to live. I think he meant to lie in that bed and die.”
“I got that idea myself. He’ll have a lot more fun sparring with me, when he gets back on his feet.” He glanced at Becky and grinned. “He’s got a mission in life now—to save you from my evil clutches.”
“He’s a little late, isn’t he?” she muttered. “Especially after Saturday.”
“Saturday was magic,” he said huskily, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “I dreamed about it all night long.”
“You didn’t give me a chance to say no,” she said tightly, not looking at him.
“It wasn’t deliberate, Becky,” he replied quietly. “Once I
started, I couldn’t stop.”
Her lower lip trembled. Neither could she, but she wasn’t admitting it. It seemed indecent to want someone that badly, especially in her condition. “Well, you might have waited until I agreed to marry you, at least,” she muttered.
“I may be too old by then.” He raised an eyebrow. “Go ahead. Lacerate my conscience. Everybody picks on the poor district attorney.”
“Well, I’m justified!” she exclaimed. “You got me in trouble!”
“I got you pregnant, which is another thing entirely. Considering that I did it on the first try, I feel pretty smug about the whole thing.”
She felt her cheeks grow hot. She’d never discussed things like this with anyone, and she was pregnant out of wedlock, not to mention having given into him with shaming ease, which she found embarrassing. And here was the cause of it all, bragging about his prowess!
“I have never…!” she began hotly.
“Oh, yes, you have,” he murmured dryly. “Four times, already.”
She went scarlet and gave up trying to fence with him verbally. No wonder he was such a good district attorney. She wrapped her hands around her pocketbook and ground her teeth together. Arguing with him got her nowhere. She’d try ignoring him altogether and see how that worked.
It didn’t. He turned on the radio and began to hum along with a popular country and western song.
“Have you thought about names?” he asked suddenly as they turned into the nursing home parking lot. “I like the sound of Todd, for a boy, and Gwen for a girl.”
“It’s my baby,” she said stubbornly. “I get to name it.”
“Half of it is your baby,” he replied as he pulled into a parking space and cut off the engine. “You get to name half of it.”
“Rourke,” she said.
He put a long forefinger over her lips, stilling the words. His dark eyes looked straight into her hazel ones in the sheltered closeness of the car, bringing back the sweetest memories of how it felt to kiss him.
