If she was smart, she’d say, “I’m sorry,” and insist on going home. Of course that wasn’t what came out of her mouth.
“All right.” She took a deep breath. “I can stay for a little while.”
He pushed back his chair and stood up, then held out a hand to her. He’d done that so many times. She could hardly ever resist the temptation. It felt so right to put her hand in his.
She did this time, too, allowed him to pull her to her feet.
“I want to kiss you when I can see you,” he murmured. “I never have, you know. I lift my head and wish I could see the expression on your face. During the day, the kids are always with you.”
“You could have gotten me alone if you’d wanted. Invited me to go somewhere.”
He winced, almost imperceptibly but not quite. “I should have.”
There they stood, perhaps a foot separating them, her hand warmly clasped in his. Rowan let go of the hurt. Tonight…she didn’t know what she’d have done without him. What if, after she read that horrible letter, he hadn’t come bursting into her kitchen?
“Why did you come over earlier? I mean, you didn’t know anything was wrong.”
His eyes were shadowed. “No, I had no idea about the letter, but I did know something was wrong. I hurt your feelings again.”
Pride should have had her laughing and telling him that of course he didn’t. But with Niall, pride wasn’t nearly as important as honesty. They’d been astonishingly honest with each other from the first.
She tilted her chin up. “You did.”
The lines on his face deepened. “I…seem to be at war with myself.”
“I can tell.” She was afraid she knew which part of him would win. If she’d been single, if he could have eased into the idea of a family, maybe he could have handled a relationship with her.
Or maybe his attraction to her was because of the kids. She wasn’t exactly the sexiest woman around. She cringed, remembering her last view of herself in the mirror.
Niall frowned at her. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I don’t like it.”
“I only wondered why you’re wasting time with me. I can’t be anything like the women you usually see.”
“See.” He laughed shortly. “No, you’re not. Rowan, I don’t have relationships. I have sex.”
“Isn’t that what you have in mind with me?” It had taken courage to ask.
He looked stunned. She saw his throat move. “Yes,” he said after a minute. Then, “No. I want more. But I don’t know if I can do it, Rowan.” There was another of those laughs that hurt to hear. “Talk about a push-pull.”
Her eyes burned. They stared at each other, for once with no guards up at all.
“I’m scared, too,” Rowan admitted, voice barely audible.
Niall groaned and tugged her forward. “Let me kiss you.”
There was no choice at all, was there?
“Yes. Please.”
His head bent; she rose on tiptoe. They met in a storm of need and fear.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE OTHER KISSES—there had been no chance of them going anywhere. Maybe that’s what made this one so different. Or maybe it was that he’d confessed to feeling something for her. If not love, still something that frightened him.
Drew had claimed to love her.
The thought came and went in less than a heartbeat. She didn’t want him here. Niall is different, Rowan thought fiercely, and was surprised at how certain she was.
His mouth was hungry but still gentle. That was it, she realized with a last flicker of consciousness. He never forgot to be careful with her. Except when he ran away, he’d been unselfish, always.
She kissed him back with all the passion in her. Clumsily, she knew; this felt startlingly new to her.
Niall sucked her tongue and let her suck his. They nuzzled and played and rubbed. At first his hands only pulled her close, set hers on his shoulders. He wrapped the back of her neck, splayed the other hand on her butt to lift her against him. But when she didn’t resist, he began to explore: this curve, that dip, the weight of her breast, the hollows above and below her collarbone.
She wanted to do the same so desperately but was timid when she began. It was enough to test the thickness of the muscles that tied his neck to his shoulders, the power of his biceps, the flat, strong muscles in his chest. But her hands wanted bare skin, and apparently so did his. At the same moment his hands slid beneath the hem of her T-shirt, she found his neck, smooth and hot, and dove into his thick, wavy hair. Coarser than hers, it felt masculine between her fingers. She shivered and arched into him.
He muttered something under his breath and pulled her T-shirt up and over her head. She tugged at his and he shed it. Rowan had seen him shirtless a few times and had tried hard not to stare. Now she didn’t have the chance, because he was kissing her again, voraciously but tenderly, if that wasn’t a contradiction in terms. She’d seen him, though, the bright curls of dark copper against tanned, sleek flesh. The arrow of hair that led over his taut belly beneath the waistband of his jeans. The fire the sight lit in her was unfamiliar, but she wasn’t naive enough not to recognize it. When she’d first met Drew, she’d felt something like this.
She’d sworn to ignore any such feelings if they ever came again.
But this was Niall.
He’d unclasped her bra so deftly she hadn’t even noticed. He had pulled back enough to cup both breasts in his hands like offerings. His expression was rapt; a flush crept across his cheekbones. The sight of his eyes, darkened by passion, that color in his face, his hands, big and brown and so very capable of violence but now holding her most tender flesh with something like reverence—all of that melted her fear and her resistance.
Rowan heard herself making small, desperate sounds. Was she begging? Shocked, she thought she might be. But what for?
He knew, because he abruptly lifted her high and carried her into his bedroom. She didn’t take in the surroundings, only felt herself sink onto the bed with him coming down atop her. That might have sparked fear, except he was talking.
“So beautiful,” he muttered. “You don’t know, do you? But you are, Rowan.”
He pressed his face between her breasts; evening stubble was scratchy but also unbearably sensuous. And then he was kissing her breasts, his tongue encircling one of her nipples, and she wanted…she wanted…
His mouth closed over the peaked nipple and drew it deep in his mouth. He suckled, pulling hard, and a surprised cry came from her throat. Her hips bucked, and now she wanted more. So much more.
Again without her noticing, he had unbuttoned and unzipped her pants. He moved to her other breast, dampened it and then drew it into his mouth in turn. Meantime, his hand slipped inside her panties, long fingers delving into the slick crevice. Her thighs clamped shut, wanting to hold his hand there, where it felt so extraordinary.
He laughed, a husky sound. “Patience, sweetheart. God, you feel good.” He rose to his knees and shimmied her pants and underwear both down. She didn’t object, even though she’d never made the conscious decision to let this happen. It was too late now; she needed him in a way that was entirely unfamiliar. Her stirrings of passion had never been stoked like this. Rowan knew in one way, and not at all in another, what was happening to her.
It occurred to her that she should have been embarrassed. She hadn’t offered the least resistance. She was making all these strange little noises and grabbing at him and letting him do anything, but his groans and murmurs sounded satisfied and as hungry as she felt.
She discovered she was unzipping his jeans and yanking them down, even though this was the part that really scared her. Should really scare her.
Niall growled something in his throat and rolled
away from her long enough to strip. “Don’t go anywhere,” he said.
She felt bereft when he leaped from bed and disappeared. Where?
Oh. Her eyes widened. She’d never have thought of birth control. Wouldn’t that have been a disaster?
Why didn’t he keep condoms in his bedside drawer?
Because, of course, he didn’t bring women home with him. She knew it was so with an instinct that wouldn’t be denied. This was his sanctuary. Even Gran had said he hardly ever had visitors. Since Rowan had moved to Gran’s house, the only people Niall had had over were his brother and his sister-in-law.
Was she the first woman he’d brought to this bed?
Pleasure ran through her. But she couldn’t think about it, because he was back. He tossed several packets on the bedside table, tore one open and rolled the condom on. Then he came down beside her, pulling her to face him.
“You have no idea how much I want you.” His voice was hoarse and somehow stark.
Please don’t hurt me. Please. But she couldn’t say that.
“I want you, too.”
She thought he’d climb atop her then and push into her body whether she was ready or not, but he didn’t. He kissed her, caressed her, touched her until she had gone mindless again and her hips lifted and her thighs spread and she wanted him there. Only then did he kneel between her legs and press forward into her. Carefully, slowly, filling her, and it didn’t hurt, it didn’t hurt at all. It was…glorious, and she was grabbing him again and trying to pull him deeper, to keep him from retreating even though when he did and surged back into her that felt incredible, too.
But eventually her body caught the rhythm and she rose and fell with him. Deep in her belly a knot of pleasure grew tighter and tighter and she had this animal need to let it loose but didn’t know how.
He did. “Now, Rowan.” His voice wasn’t his. It was as desperate as she felt. “Now.”
He did something—changed the angle, or pushed deeper. Something. All that agonizing tension inside her sprang loose, in a white-hot jolt of pleasure that spread and spread until it reached her fingertips and toes and cheeks. When it finally settled, she discovered her entire body had arched, lifting him, and her mouth was open in an astonished O.
He thrust a few more times, made a single, raw sound, and his body shuddered in and over hers. And finally, because he was Niall, he rolled immediately so he didn’t crush her. But he didn’t let go, not for a second. He arranged her against him, her head on his shoulder, one of her legs lying over his, and cradled her as if she was the most precious thing he’d ever held.
So now I know, Rowan thought, dazed. This is why people do it.
And wasn’t it sad that she was twenty-nine years old before she discovered it?
Is sex always like this?
“No.”
Now she blushed. “Did I say that out loud?”
“Yep.” He lifted his head from the pillow and tipped it so he could see her face. Was it her imagination that he looked as shell-shocked as she felt? “You were married.”
Her skin abruptly felt chilled. “Yes. But, um…”
“Sex wasn’t good?”
“No.” She hadn’t thought she’d ever admit that to anyone. “It was… No.”
“He wasn’t the only guy you’d ever made love with, was he?”
“Yes. I was, I don’t know, really shy in high school.” She was mumbling into his chest. She couldn’t have talked about this at all if she’d had to look at him. “I dated some in college, but just never… Until I met Drew. And even then, we waited until we got married.” The words seemed to rush from her, as if once she’d started she couldn’t stop. “I hadn’t been much of a churchgoer, but he’d grown up in the church so I assumed that was why. Except I knew he wasn’t a virgin. There’d been other women. So, well, maybe it was respect for me. Because he loved me.” She squeezed her eyes shut on a hideous surge of embarrassment. “What am I doing? You can’t possibly want to hear this. Especially now.”
Niall’s hand had been moving in gentle circles on her back, she realized. It didn’t stop, but he was silent for a moment and she stiffened.
“I do,” he said finally. “I can’t pretend I like thinking about you with another guy, even if you were married to him. But I want to know.”
“Know what?” Rowan asked cautiously.
“Why you’ve been so skittish with me. So surprised when something feels good. As if…” He stopped.
“As if what?” She couldn’t do anything but whisper.
“As if you were totally inexperienced.” He paused. “Or as if you’ve been abused.”
Shame did, finally, crash over her. She tried to pull away; her knees drew up as if her body instinctively wanted to curl into a fetal position.
But for the first time Niall compelled her. He held her firmly, rolling so that they were face-to-face and he was looking into her eyes.
“Tell me,” he said.
HE HAD TO DRAG IT out of her, and he hated every twist and turn of her confession. It got worse as it went on.
First she admitted the husband hadn’t much believed in foreplay. Sex had been quick and dirty. Probably worked for the guy but not for her. But then she started talking about how she thought maybe Drew had been ashamed of himself. Ashamed to want her at all, and of the way he treated her.
“He…hurt me,” she whispered. “I think he liked it best when it did hurt.” She’d gone back into hiding, her forehead resting against Niall’s shoulder. “I got so I thought it always hurt for the woman. That we were being conned by books and movies.”
He swore. “Tonight, it didn’t hurt because your body was ready for mine. You wanted me.”
Her head bobbed. “The first few times with Drew, I was, and… He couldn’t.” She peeked to see if Niall had understood this.
He nodded.
“After that it was always really fast and rough. He liked it if I struggled. A few times he asked me to…to bite him or claw him or…” Rowan shuddered. “I couldn’t.” Her body trembled again. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”
He closed his eyes and tried to contain his anger and pity. “I’m sure.”
“I should have left him, but he was always sorry. I think he really was. And he was a nice man. You probably won’t believe me, but he was. I got pregnant practically right away. And he was a good father.”
He felt dampness on his skin and knew she was wiping away tears. His arms tightened. “Sweetheart.” That’s all he seemed able to say.
“He didn’t want to talk about it.” Her voice was small and shamed. “But he told me once he’d been molested, and he thought maybe that’s why…”
“Did he say who?”
She shook her head. “He wouldn’t. He said he never told anyone before. Knowing his parents, I can see why. He insisted it didn’t matter anymore.” Rowan was pressing tight to Niall now. She seemed to vibrate as she listened to her own words. “But it did. It did matter.”
“Yes. I’m sorry. So sorry.” His hands were moving, giving what comfort he could.
“Thank you. I mean, for tonight. For…for…”
Anger and shame of his own racked him. “Don’t thank me,” he said harshly. “This wasn’t… God. I wasn’t doing you a favor. This is what making love should be like.”
“I’ve never had an orgasm,” she said in a small, dry voice.
He closed his eyes on the rush of emotions and rubbed his cheek against the top of her head.
I’ve never had one before, either. Not like that. The awareness sliced into him. Scared him like nothing ever had. Formed a sick ball in his belly.
He rejected the very thought. What a stupid thing to even let cross his mind. Having Rowan had been good. Of cour
se it was; he’d been waiting for her long enough. Anticipation always heightened sensation, right? With sex, he’d rarely had to do a lot of anticipating. Women didn’t make him wait.
Easy explanation.
“Want another one?” he heard himself say.
She lifted her head and blinked at him with big, owl-like eyes. “Is it, um, possible? I mean, can I? And…and you?”
“Oh, yeah.” He rolled her beneath him. Despite all the blasted emotions churning in him—the anger and fear and heart-wrenching regret for everything this gentle woman had experienced—he wanted her again. Fiercely. He couldn’t possibly give voice to any part of what he felt, so he kissed her.
She gave herself up to him with a tiny, wordless cry.
He proved to her that she could. That he could.
And then he proved it again.
HE WALKED HER BACK to the house in the morning and found the listing for the attorney he’d recommended in the phone book. He was beginning to ice over inside, but he made himself offer to go with her to pick up the kids.
Rowan gave him a single, devastatingly sharp look and shook her head. “Thanks, Niall, but I think it would be better if I went by myself. I need to get myself together. You know?”
He knew. How in hell was he going to get himself together? Was it even possible?
“Sure,” he said, smiling and kissing her lightly. “Hey, Anna made it through the night.”
Rowan’s expression brightened. “She did, didn’t she? It was her first sleepover, except at her grandparents’ house.” That dimmed her joy.
“Call your parents,” he suggested. “Tell them what’s going on.”
“All right.” There were shadows in her eyes, but determination, too. “You’re right. They’re going to be really mad.”
“Having them backing you will help.”
“Okay.” She smiled again. “Thank you, in the nicest possible way, for last night. I know you weren’t doing me a favor, but it was a gift. One of the best ones I’ve ever had.”
From Father to Son Page 18
