Because a Husband Is Forever

by Marie Ferrarella

  His breath became short. Though in incredible shape, he felt as if he’d just run the marathon of his life. Every pulse point in his body throbbed wildly. From wanting her.

  A part of him wanted to give in to the madness, to ravage her on the spot, but even in his delirium, he knew that wasn’t right. It wasn’t the way he wanted her to remember this. It wasn’t the way he wanted to remember this.

  Somehow they managed to reach the sofa, and there he pinned her down with his body. But rather than take her, rather than drive himself into her and secure the release he so desperately wanted, he refrained.

  A gentleness came in the midst of the storm.

  He laced his fingers through hers as he raised her hands over her head and branded her body with his lips, making her his. He kissed her neck, her shoulder, the tempting space between her breasts, working his way slowly down her body.

  Dakota twisted and turned beneath him, bucking like an untamed mare. Sending the fire inside of him up more degrees than he could begin to calculate.

  Arrows tipped in flame went searing through her. Dakota could barely focus, barely stay within her head. Somewhere a distant thought told her she couldn’t just let him do this to her, that she needed not only to be the recipient of lovemaking, but the provider as well.

  But there was honey as well as fire inside her veins, creating a complete contradiction in terms, and there wasn’t enough energy within her to push him away and weave her own spell. All she could do was absorb. Absorb and want more. Raising her body to his roaming lips, Dakota moaned his name.

  The sound of her voice against his ear as he once again kissed the sensitive area along her throat inflamed him even further. Had she asked him to leap off a building for her at that moment, he would have. Would have done anything she wanted of him.

  Except walk away.

  Because he was her prisoner.

  He knew it, and the very idea that someone had control over him to this extent shook him down to the foundation of his soul. He thought he’d lost his soul when he’d watched his ex-wife walk away with their son.

  Dakota wrapped her legs around him. He could feel heat emanating from her very core. The urgent motion of her body was his complete undoing. Unable to hold back any longer, he pivoted his body over hers ever so slightly and then drove himself into her. As he did so, he felt her teeth gently catch his lower lip and suck it in.

  It pushed him on.

  His hips fused with hers, he began the dance that was to become their own, moving at first slowly, then faster and faster until he brought them both up to where they desperately wanted to be.

  Up to the top of the world.

  She could feel stars bursting in her veins, could feel that wild rush that threatened to sweep her out into oblivion. She clung to him, wanting to prolong the sensation.

  Wishing it would go on forever.

  But forever had a limited life expectancy.

  The descent back to the earth below, down to reality, was slow, made so because neither wanted the moment to end. Neither wanted to face the moments that came after.

  They came anyway.

  A coldness wedged its way into the warmth that had existed only seconds ago. Dakota tried not to notice. She struggled to catch her breath as Ian shifted his weight from her. She was afraid she would squeak if she tried to speak too soon. Stalling for time, she dragged her hand through hair that was all but plastered against her face.

  Slowly, a rhythmic breathing pattern returned. She ran her tongue over her lips. “You’re not going to have to put this down in your journal, are you?”

  He had no idea how he managed to keep a straight face. Thoughts, emotions and, damn it, another volley of full-blooded desire rushed through him like a forest fire raging out of control.

  He tucked his arm around her in the tiny space that existed between them. “Maybe under ‘miscellaneous.’”

  Pinned against the back of the sofa, she somehow managed to lift up on one elbow and stare at Ian. Her eyes widened. She might have just made love with the man, but she still had little to no idea what made him tick. Each time his sense of humor surfaced, it was a surprise.

  Her eyes searched his expression. “You’re kidding, right?”

  He wanted to kiss her again, to catch her small, perfect face in his hand and bring her mouth down to his. What was going on here? Why wasn’t he getting up, walking away? Why was he lingering at the scene of a trespass that shouldn’t have happened in the first place? “Yes, I’m kidding,” he told her. “This is not the kind of thing you write down.”

  Not the kind of thing. The phrase rang in her head. How many others had he guarded, then wound up making love with? One? Two? Ten? She steeled herself off for the answer. “So you’ve done it before.”

  His eyebrows knitted together, forming a dark squiggle across which she wanted to feather her fingertips. “I have a son, Dakota. Yes, I’ve done it before.”

  Did this mean something to her? he wondered. Did all the lights suddenly go out in her world the way they had in his because the surge was too great to be handled? Where were these thoughts coming from? he demanded of himself. He never overthought a liaison before. Why now? What was it about this woman that turned his world on its ear?

  She was still waiting, he realized. “No,” he told her quietly, giving her more of himself than he would have wanted to under normal circumstances. But the look in her eyes forced him to be truthful. “I’ve never done it before with a client.”

  She wanted more than anything to believe him, not really knowing why it was so important to her, only that it was. But Ian was nothing if not devoted to the sanctity of his clients, to their right to privacy. “Would you tell me if you had?”

  She was asking for his soul, Ian thought, without recognizing the fact that she had it. And he needed it back. But he hadn’t a clue as to how to secure it again. All he knew was that he was nervous as hell.

  He combed his fingers through her hair, pushing a stray lock away from her face. “Yes,” he told her quietly, “I would.”

  Dakota wanted to feel that this night was different for him, different from all the others that had come before. Because it was different for her. She couldn’t remember when her world had been rocked this way, and although the man was more than just an astute and competent lover, she knew it wasn’t just because of the physical pleasure she’d experienced. Something had dislodged within her when they made love, and she was terrified.

  Suddenly, right before Ian’s eyes, she had turned pale. Concern nudged at him. Had he missed something? Done something wrong? Because it had all felt so right. “What’s the matter?”

  “Why?” She would have turned away from him if she could, but there was nowhere to even avert her face in her present position.

  He caught her face in his hand and forced her eyes to his. “Because you look as if you’ve just seen a ghost.”

  Dakota tried very hard to sound nonchalant and had no idea if she succeeded. She shrugged carelessly, acutely aware that she was completely nude, lying next to a man equally so. “Maybe the ghost of romances past.”

  “And?”

  She blew out a breath, her eyes searching his. Looking for help. “And I don’t know what to think.”

  “Maybe that’s the problem.” His voice was so low, he sounded as if he was giving voice to his own insecurities, not hers. “Maybe you shouldn’t think. Maybe, just for now, just for tonight, thinking should be placed on the back burner.”

  And then, before she could answer, he shifted against her and, in so doing, made all the smoldering embers within her turn into bonfires again. Making love with Ian had exhausted her. But now that seemed like a hundred years ago. She was ready, willing and eager to share her body with him again. The thought slammed into her as her lips found his. What had come over her? Was she turning into some kind of a sex-starved woman?

  And how could she be starved after she’d feasted so well just moments ago? There were no logical ans
wers to her questions. All she knew was that she wanted him again, and this time, Dakota promised herself, she was going to make him just as insane as she had felt the first time.

  Turning her body into his, she could feel his instant response to her. His body had hardened on first contact. A secret smile bloomed inside of her, spreading like wildfire.

  “Consider it placed,” she whispered, her breath caressing his face as she wove her arms around his neck and kissed him for all she was worth.

  She’d sparked him. There was no question about it. Ian could feel desire closing its iron grip around him. Could feel how every point where their bodies touched aroused him again.

  “This is really a first,” he murmured against her mouth as he kissed her over and over again. When she drew back her head and looked at him quizzically, he realized he’d said the words out loud. He hadn’t meant to. Ian searched for a way out that wouldn’t give too much away. “First time with a client—”

  “Pretend client,” she interjected. Did that make it all right? No, it didn’t. Because even as she grasped the tiny straw, she knew that her being a client wasn’t what was bothering her. The problem was her reaction to him.

  “And first time for other things,” he finally added when she continued looking at him expectantly.

  “What other things?”

  He nipped at her lower lip, suckling on it as he cupped her breast, his thumb teasing her nipple. “You can’t drag out all my secrets at once.”

  But she meant to, she thought, struggling to hang on to her mind. To herself. She was swiftly losing her hold on both. She didn’t want the second time to be like the first. So, with her lips sealed to his, she surprised him by managing to turn their bodies around on the wide sofa until she was on top.

  The maneuver caught Ian off guard. He stopped kissing her and looked up at the woman straddling his body. Explosions began going off in his veins. He tucked his hands around her buttocks, pressing her even closer to him.

  It was all she needed to set her off and running. She drew him into her and began to move, her eyes fixed on his for as long as she could maintain the pose. Before stretching her body out along his.

  She made him crazy, weaving her magic. There was no other term for it. Magic. He was a man who didn’t believe in magic.

  Until now.

  The rest of the night was consumed in a blur of lovemaking and subsequent exhaustion. Somewhere along the line he managed to carry her into her bedroom. After placing her on her bed, he meant to go to his own room. But he stayed with her. And made love with her one more time.

  Spent beyond measure, they fell asleep right after the last act, their bodies still entwined and strangely innocent.

  The rosy hue that pulsed softly around her gave way to the sharp edges of fear as Dakota surfaced from a world of dreams and made her way back into reality.

  There was a man in her bedroom, walking toward the door. He was completely nude, and even as the unnamed, cloudlike cloak of fear draped itself heavily over her, she couldn’t draw her eyes away from a body that was damn near perfect.

  She searched for something to say. Something to make him stay without her asking. She wanted him to look at her, to tell her not to be afraid. That he was the one she was looking for. She wanted a fairy tale served on a silver tray.

  Clearing her throat, she asked, “Are you sure this isn’t going into the journal?” She saw him stiffen at the threshold of her room.

  Damn it, she was awake. He’d hoped to be able to sneak out of the room before she opened her eyes. Served him right for not leaving the second he’d opened his.

  Without turning around, he looked over his shoulder, trying not to see the way dawn had crept into the room and was now caressing her body the way he wanted to. The way he couldn’t.

  “I’m sure,” he said gruffly, then turned away. “Go back to sleep.”

  Ian closed the door behind him.

  The room was eerily quiet. All she heard was the sound of her own breathing.

  He’d left. Just like that, she thought. No conversation, no empty words of praise. No attempt to say something about last night.

  Nothing.

  Because it was nothing, she told herself. To him. He was a man and had reacted as such, giving her what was without question the best time she’d ever had with or without her clothes on. But the fact that he didn’t say something remotely friendly this morning was an obvious sign that she shouldn’t make anything out of what had happened between them.

  She shouldn’t start hoping or taking the locks off her heart. Locks that had been there even with John, she realized. Until last night, part of her had always been held in reserve, afraid. Afraid of making a mistake. Because she’d been raised to believe with all her heart that a husband was supposed to be forever. With that thought existed the fear of making a mistake. Of giving her heart to the wrong person. Because with the wrong person a marriage would disintegrate into a divorce.

  She didn’t want to get divorced. She didn’t want to be a statistic. What she wanted was what her parents had. A solid marriage between two people who knew they were meant for each other. Two people who were going to remain together no matter what.

  The world wasn’t like that anymore, a small voice echoed in her head.

  Restless, she fingered the cameo around her neck. She hadn’t had it off since she had bought it. Ian had come into her life the day she bought it.

  Confusion nibbled at her.

  She didn’t believe in legends, in talismans, and yet…

  She believed in happily ever after, didn’t she? Damn it, why couldn’t she be like other women? Why couldn’t she just have a pleasurable experience and chalk it up to that? Why did it have to be serious for her?

  It certainly wasn’t serious for him. He didn’t even stay to see if he could catch an encore this morning. Was he tired of her already? Was he one of those men who needed to prove something to himself and once that was done, he moved on?

  Enough, she ordered herself. She was overthinking again. She didn’t want to think at all.

  Ian closed the door behind him and walked quickly to his own room. He’d had to get out of there. He’d spent the last fifteen minutes watching her sleep, aching to take her again. Not knowing what the hell had come over him. If he stayed any longer, he would have gone back to her bed. And to her.

  What had he been thinking, making love with her like that? Did he think it was going to lead somewhere? Where? He was a cop for hire, a working man. And she was some kind of Hollywood royalty. Even if she wasn’t, he had nothing to offer a woman. His ex had made that quite clear to him. With his way of keeping to himself and the kind of work he did, he had nothing to offer any woman.

  He couldn’t allow this kind of thing to happen again. And yet…

  And yet nothing. He knew how to exercise control over himself. He’d done it before. Self-discipline was a way of life with him.

  He closed his own door behind him and walked into the bathroom. What he needed more than anything right now was a shower. A damn cold one. He wondered if there was a setting that would spit ice cubes at him.

  Dakota hurriedly threw on her clothes and then crossed the room to her door. Cracking it open, she listened intently. She thought she detected the sound of running water. He was in the shower. Good. Now was her chance.

  She edged her way out into the hall. The sound of running water was louder.

  She knew she couldn’t stay here, not right now. Not with all these feelings running rampant through her like pool balls after a break. She needed time to sort them out. Time to figure out what to do with this sunshine that kept popping up, followed by rain. Their lovemaking had filled her with a tremendous glow, but Ian’s cavalier way of just walking out without a word all but undid her.

  She needed time to put everything in its place—time without him. And there was no way she could get that unless she found a way to ditch him. He would never listen to reason and let her go off on a driv
e by herself. He was too stubborn, too committed to the deal he’d made with the station.

  To hell with the station. To hell with him.

  Dakota struggled to bank down her anger. She was her own person and she needed to find that person again. Because somehow, amid all the lovemaking that had taken place last night, she’d gotten lost.

  She tiptoed past his room, as if he could somehow hear her with all that running water. Once clear, she made a beeline for the front door. Reaching it, she felt oddly triumphant and sad at the same time.

  Dakota lost no time in getting down to the parking garage and her car. Once in it, she quickly hit the street while looking in her rearview mirror for signs of Ian chasing her down.

  All she saw was a navy convertible pulling out of its parking place.

  Made it!

  Dakota pointed her vehicle due north.

  Chapter Twelve

  The man in the gray sweater vest behind the counter stood about five-eight, was thin and wiry. His complexion indicated that he had spent most of his adult life indoors amid the antiques he sold and was now in the process of dusting. Upon seeing her walk in, he arrested his movement, laid down the feather duster and smiled congenially at her.

  Despite the smile, Dakota noticed a sadness in his brown eyes.

  “May I help you?”

  Dakota looked around the small shop, but the man appeared to be alone. She felt a nibble of disappointment. “Yes, I’d like to speak to the lady who sold me this necklace, please.”

  The man squinted slightly at the cameo she held up for his inspection. He showed no sign of recognition, but nodded obligingly.

  Turning his head, he called over his shoulder toward the storeroom in the back. “Honey, there’s someone here who says she wants to speak to you.” He turned to look at her again, his eyes on the necklace. “You say you bought that here?”

  Dakota didn’t know what to make of his uncertain expression. He obviously didn’t recognize the cameo, but maybe he didn’t handle the inventory.

  “Yes, why?”