by Docter, K. L
“We can’t depend on the time of the month, Rachel. And I sure don’t think I’ll have the willpower to pull out once I’m inside you, not that that method is foolproof either.”
She stilled, drew back. “You don’t understand. I can’t get pregnant. At all. Ever.” She paused. “I’m infertile.”
How could this vibrant woman be infertile? Had something happened after Amanda was born? Patrick knew he should feel relief at the news it was safe to give in to his base impulses. Moments ago, he’d been dying to be buried deep inside her, protection or not. But now, all he could think about was how beautiful she’d look growing huge with a child. His child.
He was taking too long to respond, but the notion of Rachel carrying his baby stunned him. It was one thing to want her in his bed. It was something else when he thought about making her a permanent fixture in his life. He’d made a vow—
“It’s safe. Can’t we leave it at that and take this moment?”
He wanted to, desperately, but— “Tell me again that you want this.”
“Oh, I want this,” she said, “more than you know.”
Out of arguments, he gave in to what they both wanted. “Come here, then,” he said, kissing her until they both struggled for air.
Rachel’s mouth caressed a searing path over the too tight skin right above his heart, his ribs and lower. His muscles jumped. He could barely think. Only breathe. And feel. Until he knew he had to quench this scorching desire in this woman soon or die. “Rachel!”
She pushed his jeans and briefs down together, and he sprang free. He groaned when she gave the tip of his shaft a lingering caress.
He kicked his jeans over the side of the bed and rolled Rachel beneath him. Their tongues tangled, mated. Rachel’s legs wrapped around his hips, and he groaned with pleasure, riding the edge of his control.
“Honey, slow down. There’s no hurry.” Capturing her wrists, he carried them over her head.
With a gasp, she went completely rigid beneath him. It took a moment for the blood to return to his brain. Realizing what he’d done—this first time had to be about her pleasure, not his—he released her wrists. “I won’t hurt you, Rach,” he murmured. “Just tell me what you want. Show me what you need.”
“I-I’m no good at this.”
He heard her insecurity, felt it deep inside his gut. It took everything in him not to leave the bed and go track down Rachel’s ex-husband. He wanted to hurt him for crushing the sensual creature he knew was inside her. The woman brought Patrick to his knees without trying, and she seemed completely unaware of her power over him.
“Just do what feels good.” He rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him. Her long, slim legs straddled his hips, bringing them together in too many ways that tested his control. But he raised his hands to the pillow above his head. “I won’t touch you unless you ask me,” he said. “Take what you want, whatever gives you pleasure.”
For an eternity, Rachel couldn’t think. She was too aware of the way she fit atop Patrick, like she’d been made just for him, for this moment. The heat building at her core burned away the anxiety that had rushed inside her when he’d held down her wrists. She knew making love with Patrick would be different—she’d counted on it—but she hadn’t expected the exquisite fire between them. It was exhilarating…and a little scary.
It wasn’t until that moment she realized Patrick could hurt her so much worse than Greg ever had. And those scars wouldn’t be visible on her body. They’d be imbedded in her soul. She’d fallen for Patrick and that made him much more dangerous.
What was more frightening? She didn’t care. She wanted him anyway. If it hurt her later to leave him behind, she’d still have this one night.
“Rachel?” His chest rumbled under her palms where she leaned over him.
“I’m okay,” she said. Her sensitized breasts skimmed the hair on his chest as she bent down to kiss him.
She might not know what to do or ask for, but she loved kissing this man. She took her time stroking his mouth with hers, pressing her tongue to the seam of his lips, and silently begged him to let her in. When he didn’t respond, she moaned her frustration. “Kiss me back.”
He didn’t hesitate. His head lifted off the pillow as he seduced her mouth. He sipped. He nipped her lower lip. Their tongues tangled for several glorious moments…until it wasn’t enough.
“Touch me,” she demanded.
“Where?”
Patrick’s question rasped through the darkness and, for the first time, she wished the lights were on so she could see his face, witness the passion lining his masculine features. She could hear it in his voice, feel it in the way he hardened beneath her. “Anywhere,” she whispered. “Everywhere.”
Without light, she didn’t see his hands. It made his touch that much more intense. The fire inside her blazed higher with each touch of his hands on her waist, over her belly, upward to her breasts. He caressed slowly, exploring her like he was memorizing it by touch alone. By the time he reached her breasts and held them in his palms, she couldn’t stifle a whimper. His thumbs scraped back and forth over the tips of her breasts. “More!”
He tweaked her nipples and she felt the tug between her thighs where he was cradled. Her legs squeezed his hips. She rocked up and down his shaft seeking satisfaction she knew only he could give her.
“You’re killing me, Rach.”
The harsh tone of his voice stole her air and tightened her desire. His heartbeat a thundering tattoo under her hand, he took nothing more than what she was ready for. No man before Patrick had considered her feelings like this, been willing to give her pleasure at the expense of his own. She wasn’t afraid of him losing control with her, maybe never had been. This was Patrick. The man who stood between her and Greg, who protected her and Amanda without expecting anything in return. She felt like a whole woman in his arms. Wanted. Desired.
Unable to wait any longer, she leaned down and nipped his chin, her fingers moving down to clasp him. He bucked into her hand and groaned. “Then, come with me. We’ll die together, Patrick,” she said. “Love me. Now!”
She expected him to turn her beneath him and plunge into her. But he must have realized she wasn’t ready for that, not this time. Instead, he pulled her earlobe into his mouth and suckled it. His fingers traced over the scars on her back. Distracted by what his tongue was doing, she didn’t even flinch at the touch.
Then, she was at his tip. His hands on her hips, he guided her into place. Too soon. Too much. Too late to slow things down. He pulled her down, one slow, agonizing inch at a time, until he was buried inside her.
“You feel…so good. So hot.”
So good! She knew it would feel this way with Patrick. Warm. Wet. Hardened steel, wrapped in velvet. No discomfort. No aversion. She wanted him to stay buried inside her forever. A frisson of desire spiked through her. “I, oh please—”
She didn’t say the words, yet he knew what she wanted. He circled her waist with his hands and guided her. Up. Down. Slowly. Then, more quickly.
Her hands spread on his shoulders, she rode him. She cried out with each thrust. “Yes!” she said when he picked up the pace. “Oh! Oh, please!”
Reaching for the pleasure she’d always craved, she was aware of nothing but her rhythmic movement above Patrick, the scent of their lovemaking weaving through her senses. When her climax crashed over her, she cried out his name. Moments later, he exploded inside her, and she could have sworn she saw stars in the blackness of the room around them.
Chapter Sixteen
It was an eternity later before Rachel became aware again. She held herself in place above Patrick on arms that trembled. Her inner walls still spasmed around him. Her air came in bursts, and her ears were ringing. “That was—” She couldn’t find her voice, let alone the word that fit what she’d experienced in his arms.
“Incredible,” he finished for her.
“Incredible,” she agreed. Unexpected. Immensely satis
fying.
“Are you all right?”
Rachel was amazed at how wonderful she felt. “I’m perfect.”
He suddenly grew still beneath her. “No, you aren’t,” he said harshly. Not releasing her, he rolled with her to his right, reached over her shoulder and flipped on the bedside lamp. “You’re crying!”
In the bright light, she blinked at his scowl. She swiped at her cheek and looked at her fingertips with surprise. “I’m crying.” She gave him a tremulous smile. “I’ve never done that,” she stammered to a halt before she continued, “never felt anything like that before.”
“You’ve never climaxed?” Patrick grinned, clearly pleased with himself.
She shook her head. “I thought there was something wrong with me.”
Patrick’s grin disappeared. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you.”
“Yes, there is. I’m, well,” she hesitated before she finished, “I’m frigid.”
“Who told you tha…? His scowl deepened. “Never mind, I know. Listen. You are not frigid.” A burst of laughter rumbled from his throat. “For god’s sake, woman, you can fry the brains right out of a man. Do you think I wanted this,” he thrust against her, reminding her of their intimate position, “to happen?”
“Great,” she muttered, jerking away to stare up at the ceiling. “I make men do things they don’t want to do.” Just because she’d just had the best sex in her life didn’t mean Patrick was similarly affected.
“That’s not what I meant.” Patrick tugged her back into his arms so she couldn’t escape his gaze. “Honey, whatever your ex told you, I’m certain the problem isn’t yours.” He pushed a tendril of hair off her temple. “If you weren’t so incredibly hot and sexy, you wouldn’t make me so nuts. I could spend the next three weeks in this bed with you and it wouldn’t be enough.”
Rachel couldn’t dismiss the sincerity in his eyes. “I’m still not exactly whole,” she admitted without thinking.
“What does that mean?”
It meant she was speaking with her heart and not her head. She might trust this man with her body, even her heart since she’d already lost it to him. Did she dare tell him her deepest, darkest secret? Once the words were spoken, they could never be taken back.
Somehow, though, staring into Patrick’s warm brown eyes, she knew her last secret would be safe with him. He would protect Amanda no matter what. “I thought I couldn’t,” her eyelids dropped briefly, “well, you know. I thought there was something wrong with me, that my inability to have children is the reason I didn’t enjoy sex.”
“But you have Amanda, and we’ve just proved you’re anything but frigid.” He flashed a smug smile. “The problem isn’t yours.”
“You proved me wrong about my ability to achieve an orgasm,” she conceded with a small smile. “I still can’t have children.”
“Did that asshole tell you that?” His gaze sharpened. “We didn’t use protection, Rachel. Is it possible you’re wrong about that, too?”
He didn’t move, but she felt his withdrawal. “No. I’m not wrong about that, Patrick.” She laughed without humor. “Don’t worry. You’re safe.”
“That’s not—”
“It’s okay,” she said. Suddenly feeling the need to cover up, she scooted away from him and pulled the sheet up under her arms, her back to the hard brass behind her. Fish or cut bait, little chickadee.
Her father’s favorite saying wasn’t welcome, especially under these circumstances, but it did push away the last of her doubts. She tucked a pillow behind her shoulders before she dared to look at Patrick, lying on his side facing her. Nervous under his watchful gaze, she ran a hand through her tumbled hair. “Do you remember Simon?”
“The doctor in a coma?”
“Yes.” She blinked away the reminder her friend might still die. “Simon helped me and Amanda run away from Greg six months ago,” she whispered painfully. “I think, well, it’s my fault he attacked Simon.”
“Your ex might not be responsible.” Patrick picked up her hand and frowned at the fading bruises on the underside of her wrist where Greg grabbed her the day he’d found her. She tried to pull away, but Patrick held on. He lifted her wrist and pressed his mouth over the tenderness. “I know it’s what it looks like,” he said, looking at her, “but you can’t take responsibility. It was Simon’s decision to help a friend.”
“I still feel guilty.” She sighed. “Anyway, I’m trying to tell you why we don’t have to worry about…what we did.”
“Make love, you mean.” He grinned at her.
Rachel found herself grinning back, until she had to come back to her point. “Simon’s more than a friend. He is, was my fertility doctor. Greg and I knew him in college and we went to him when I didn’t get pregnant.”
She rushed on. “Tests showed there was nothing wrong with Greg.” She fiddled with the sheet beneath her fingertips, unable to look at Patrick for the next part. “There is something wrong with me. M-My eggs aren’t viable.” Her throat closed up on the revelation. She was as distraught now telling Patrick she was less than a woman, as she was that fateful morning she sat in Simon’s office when he broke the news to her.
“Ah, Rach.” Patrick sat up and wrapped her in his arms. “I’m sorry. I know how much you love children. You should have half a dozen. I’ve seen you with Amanda and you—
“Wait. That’s what he meant when he said she was his,” Patrick said, his voice low.
“Who?”
“Bishop. The day we met he said, ‘I’m here now and you can’t have my daughter. She’s mine.’ She’s his blood.”
Dear God, how could she have expected Patrick to understand?
“She’s mine in every way that matters,” she said fiercely. “I may not be her biological mother, but I carried her for nine months. I delivered her. She’s my daughter, and no one’s going to take her away from me!” The urge to run was almost overwhelming.
“No one will take Amanda from you.” Patrick eased them both down flat on the bed and jockeyed her into position above him until her breasts covered his chest and they were eye-to-eye. He thrust his hands into her hair and pulled her down for a mind-blowing kiss.
And, that quickly, Rachel no longer felt the urge to run. Patrick’s kiss, his touch, enticed her to stay right where she was, in this bed. In his protective arms.
“This is what your ex is holding over you.”
It took a moment for her brains to unscramble. “What?”
“Your ex. He wants your inheritance and he’s holding Amanda’s paternity over your head to get it.”
The conversation touched on some uncomfortable truths, but she couldn’t run away from them anymore. Separating from Patrick’s distracting heat, she lay on the bed and faced him. “Yes, he needs Amanda to get his hands on it.”
“You said you’re the—”
“Beneficiary. Yes, I am. He thinks it’s going to Amanda, but I told my great-aunt the truth. I asked her to change her will. Between us, we earmarked a huge portion of the estate for charities and trusts that can’t be accessed easily or at all, but there’s still enough left to entice Greg.” She could see Patrick working through the information. “And no, it won’t matter if I tell him the truth. All he has to do is take my little girl away. He knows I’ll do anything to keep her, even if it means giving him every last penny of what I can access.”
“But that’s not all.” Patrick’s eyebrows lowered. “The message he left in the bedroom, he wasn’t talking about the inheritance, was he? If he can take Amanda back any time, he has all the power. So what else does he want?”
“Me,” she whispered. “To his mind, he owns me.” Bile rose in Rachel’s throat as she remembered the words he’d left on the dresser mirror. GIVE ME BACK WHAT’S MINE! The possibility she’d have to turn herself over to him to keep her daughter safe, to live the rest of her life under his control, made her insides churn.
Her fingers touched her scars. “Patrick. I’m worri
ed the police won’t find him. That I’ll live the rest of my life running. Hiding.”
“Sweetheart, listen to me. He doesn’t own you.” Patrick traced the back of his knuckles over her scars. “These don’t mean he owns you either. All they mean is that he’s a brutal son-of-a-bitch who deserves a jail cell.”
“But—”
“No buts. Bishop will have to go through me to get you or Amanda. Trust me. Trust Jack and the police. When we tell them what he’s really after—”
“You can’t tell them anything!” He was asking too much, to relinquish complete control over her life. Over her precious Amanda. “I trust the police to follow the letter of the law,” she said tightly. “If they learn Amanda isn’t mine and Greg demands her back, they’ll have no choice but to turn her over. Promise me you’ll never tell anyone.”
“Rach, be sensible. The man won’t go to those lengths. He’s wanted for attempted murder, arson, and a host of other charges. They won’t give an innocent child to a man like that.”
“You don’t know him like I do. He’ll find a way to escape prosecution. If he is sent to jail, he’ll make sure I don’t get her just to punish me.” She scrambled off the bed. Grabbing the football jersey Patrick had tossed to the floor before making love to her, she covered herself before looking at him. “You have to promise to keep my secret, Patrick or, so help me, I’ll take Amanda on the first flight out of Denver.”
He scowled. “I can’t protect you if you—”
“Promise or I’m gone.” Much as it would hurt to leave Patrick behind, especially after the way he’d made love to her, considering her feelings for the man, she had to ensure Amanda never fell into her brutal father’s hands. “Please, Patrick,” she pleaded.
He searched her face for several long moments. “I promise,” he said. “Despite what you think, I want to keep Amanda away from her father as much as you do.”
Rachel felt better with his promise, but now she became aware that she was standing in the middle of the room wearing nothing but an oversized shirt looking down at the man she’d just had sex…no, made love with. She could smell Patrick on her skin, feel him inside her. She longed to crawl back into the bed and recapture the wonder he’d shown her, but was unsure where they went from here. “I should go.”
