HAVING HIS CHILD

by Amy J. Fetzer

  For Lucas it reminded him that he'd have hours alone with Angela and just how hard it would be not to tell her what his heart was saying to him every minute of the day.

  * * *

  Later that night, Lucas watched her sleep, wondering what she was dreaming about because she was smiling. A little tinge of jealousy raced through him. Was she dreaming of a man? Or the baby she wanted so badly? He'd seen the pregnancy and childbirth books all over the house earlier. The sight of them kicked reality right in his face. She was going to do it no matter what he said. And he almost felt jealous of a child that didn't exist. The baby would take her away from him. And he wondered how much of Angela he would lose because he didn't want kids of his own.

  His gut twisted, and he rubbed his fingers across his mouth, wishing he understood his own feelings. But all he experienced was complete confusion. When he was apart from her, he could at least concentrate and put his emotions in neat little compartments, past, present, no future that he could see. For his career he had to be a little detached, though inside he wasn't. But with Angela, lately all it took was one look, one smile or innocent touch, and it was like he was a teenager, an outcast, and the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen wanted to be his friend.

  He was a mess.

  And he had to do something about it. But even broaching the subject, telling her he was falling for her in a way that had nothing to do with being pals, was a risk in itself. All he knew in his heart was that he loved Angela Justice and somewhere during the last couple of years, since he'd come back to the only place he'd called home, that love had taken a sharp and dangerous turn.

  He left the chair and sat carefully on the bed, his gaze moving over her flawless face and landing on her mouth, curved in a sleepy smile. He reached, brushing a red lock of hair from her cheek, and he realized his hand was trembling.

  He swallowed, his chest tight and burning, the hopelessness of his situation beating him with his own want of a woman he could not have, should not touch.

  She wanted babies. He couldn't be a father. Anyone's father. He'd be lousy at it. And he was terrified.

  Terrified that he would lose her to this baby plan. Terrified that he would be alone and without this woman in his life.

  And scared as hell that if he didn't do something, he would go stark raving mad.

  The timer on his watch went off, making him flinch, and he switched it off, then bent over and cupped his face in his hands.

  Oh, God. What am I doing?

  He scraped his hands over his face as he looked up and glanced at her. When she was asleep, he was at least without options, but awake, Angela devastated his senses.

  "Angela, wake up."

  She curled toward him, blindly taking his hand and pulling it to her chest.

  Lucas froze, sensations scattering through him like fire. The feel of her warm skin against his was enough to send him over the edge, to take her in his arms. For a moment he didn't move, his body and heart wanting to touch her so badly, to taste her skin, feel her mouth beneath his like he'd dreamed about for the past weeks.

  Damn.

  Damn, damn, damn.

  He couldn't keep thinking like this! But he was. Oh, Lord, he was.

  "Angela, wake up," he said briskly, pulling free.

  "Go away," she muttered and curled deeper into the bedding.

  "You have to wake up." He shook her again, praying that sheet didn't slip further down. And silently wishing it would.

  "Get lost, Ryder!"

  "You need to wake up."

  "Gee, you think because I'm talking to you that I just might be awake?"

  "Good Lord, you're cranky."

  "You get roused every two hours and see what it's like."

  He wasn't going to mention that he hadn't slept much, either. "I like you better asleep."

  "Good, 'cause that's where I'm going." She still hadn't opened her eyes.

  "I don't know why I bother when you're such a mean cuss."

  She opened one eye and swung it toward the alarm clock. "It's four in the morning!"

  "You're usually on the air right now, so be a brave little patient and sit up. Now."

  With a groan of compliance she did, rubbing her face.

  The sheet dropped, exposing the swell of her breasts in the skimpy chemise, and Lucas looked his fill, aching to push the thin strap down and put his mouth on her flawless skin. He swallowed and glanced at his lap as she took a sip from the juice glass on the bedside table.

  "Happy?" She set the glass down and glared at him.

  "Yes." Leaning forward, he checked her eyes, pleased that her pupils had remained the same throughout the day and night.

  Angela clenched her fingers in the bedsheet, fighting the urge to move just a fraction and bring her mouth to his. He smelled wonderful, woodsy and so very male, and she knew she had to get away from him to collect herself. When he leaned back, declaring her fit, she tried to get out of bed. He was in the way.

  She glared, almost hating the feelings rushing through her.

  He smiled. "Brat," he said, then scooted back.

  She slipped from the bed, almost running to the bathroom. Lucas watched her go, his body growing tighter with every step she took. The skimpy chemise shifted around her body like air, brushing her thighs, her sweet behind, showing off the lush fullness of her breasts and driving images of stripping it off her through his tired mind like a battering ram, daring him to explore.

  Angela closed the door and sighed against it. Every time he woke her she grew more and more agitated. Not from lack of sleep—she was used .to strange hours with her job—but because when she woke he was there, smelling great, looking sexy and handsome, and then every time she fell into a dream, Lucas was there. Touching her, peeling off her clothes and pushing his body into hers.

  Tingles of pleasure swept over her skin, tightening her nipples and sending a quick wash of desire down to her thighs and curling between. It was just too easy to imagine them together, making wild jungle love. And she wanted him. It was a fact she'd been trying to ignore. She wanted him enough to nearly pull him into her bed just then. With a moan of frustration, she pushed away from the door. Using her mouthwash and splashing water on her face did little to banish the images floating through her mind and through her dreams.

  What would he think if he knew she'd dreamed of him? That she had been having less than platonic thoughts about him?

  He'd run.

  Despite that she knew his feelings had changed. Despite that when he looked at her, it was different and deep and lusty. The two of them didn't want the same lifestyle, and she had to remember that.

  And she had to talk to him about this. She couldn't go on. Turning sharply, she flung open the door. He was gone. Crossing the room, she grabbed her robe, then slipped it on as she trotted down the stairs. She found him in her living room.

  Barefoot, he paced before her unused fireplace like a caged animal.

  "Lucas."

  He stilled, then his head shot up, his gaze flashing her with a look so hot her knees went weak.

  "What's wrong?" She crossed the room slowly, feeling as if she'd explode any second. He was razor still, the muscles of his chest straining against his dark T-shirt, his thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his jeans, his hips cocked. He looked at her through a shock of black hair, and Angela thought she'd be swallowed by the desire in his eyes.

  It's real, chanted through her head. He wants me. Oh, God.

  "Lucas, talk to me."

  "I have to leave." Yet he didn't move.

  A sinking feeling washed through her. "Okay, let me get your medical bag." She started to turn away.

  "No, Ange, I meant permanently."

  She spun around, her eyes wild. "What! For good?"

  He nodded.

  "No!"

  "God, Ange," he groaned. "I don't want to leave."

  "Then don't! I can't believe you're saying this. My God, you just came home!" Just the thought of him gone was l
ike a living thing eating at her soul. Tears welled in her eyes. "Tell me why?"

  He didn't answer. But she knew.

  She rushed forward, gripping his upper arms as if he would bolt out of her life right now. "Lucas, no, no. This is because of my plans for motherhood, isn't it? You're so opposed you can't bear to look at me." He didn't respond. Her gaze searched his, her heart pounding as she realized he held himself stiffly, his arms at his sides. His features were sharp, harsh. "I'm sorry you feel this way." Her voice broke as she let go and took a step back.

  Lucas reached for her and in one motion dragged her into his embrace.

  Angela froze, her throat working repeatedly as her body meshed to his, soft yielding to hard. She'd never been this close to him, and she felt every solid inch of him against her, hard and strong and sexy.

  Heat and impatience rode between them like a racehorse at full speed. His breathing escalated, his gaze raking her features. Then he plowed his fingers roughly into her hair and tipped her head back.

  "You know it's not the reason, Angel," he growled. "And I've waited too damn long to show you why."

  His mouth crashed down on to hers.

  And fifteen years of suppressed emotion erupted in a storm of longing and passion neither could stop.

  * * *

  Chapter 7

  « ^ »

  The explosion was tremendous. Powerful. Greedy with impatience.

  Their kiss was devouring, a hot slide of lips and tongues and the demand for more. Much more.

  Lucas groaned at her wild response, the feel of her touching him like a lover for the first time. He wanted her so badly he couldn't think, could scarcely breathe, yet he moved on instinct. As if through his life he'd known it would be like this. As natural as breathing and as demanding as his need for air.

  Sensations poured through him, sapping his strength. His will.

  And when she made little eager sounds, nearly climbing onto him, begging for more, he gave it, taking her mouth harder, deeper.

  She drove her fingers into his hair, plundering wildly, pausing only long enough to drag air into her lungs and mutter, "What took you so damn long?" then kiss him again.

  Lucas wanted to roar with sweet victory, his hands diving inside her robe and up the contours of her spine. He filled his palms with her breasts.

  Angela cried out against his mouth, his touch emptying her mind to the sensations running through her and fighting for supremacy. This was Lucas, her Lucas! Yet it felt completely right to be kissing him, as if this were the only place she should be. Could be. With the only man she wanted. And now that the opportunity was here, she couldn't get enough of him.

  His thumbs circled her nipples, deeply, with a determination to drag every moan out of her, every purr and gasp. And it was working, the sensations familiar, yet each bearing a new and vibrant power, ripping through her blood. Because it was him.

  Her hands were everywhere, exploring the width of his chest, the span of his back, his hips. Then she realized he was trembling.

  And so was she.

  The fresh excitement of it drove her on, and she tore at the hem of his shirt, peeling it off over his head and giving in to the fantasy of her life. She tasted his skin with hot frenzied motions, nipping, laying, and he groaned harshly as she dragged her tongue down over his throat, his chest, then circled his nipple.

  He clutched her, his passion gaining speed with hers, and he pushed his hand beneath the silk nightie, stroking her flesh, seeking her delicate center, and Angela's fingers dug into his shoulders.

  "Lucas, oh, Lucas." The anticipation was going to kill her!

  He found her, wet and hot, and the knowledge undid him. He parted her, his gaze locked with hers as he thrust two fingers inside. Angela flinched and arched, pushing his touch deeper. Rocking. Her body pulsing with mindless greed for him, inside her, filling her. Now. Without hesitation she opened his jeans and sent the zipper down, then slipped her hand inside.

  Lucas slammed his eyes shut and quaked with hard shudders.

  She stroked him. He played with her. Eyes locked, breath staggering. They didn't waste another moment as excitement slashed through them. Her robe hit the floor. Seconds later, the sliver of a nightgown followed. Then his mouth was on her breast, lips drawing on her nipple before he lowered to his knees, cupping her buttocks and hurriedly bringing her softness beneath his mouth. Angela moaned, her breath no more than a weakened pant, her insides melting to the fiery heat of sensations ricocheting through her as his tongue speared and stroked. Her legs liquefied. And just before the rush of pleasure overtook her, he pulled her to the floor and pressed her to her back.

  "Hurry, hurry!" she pleaded, frantically groping for him. The need to join and possess and feel was savage, frenzied, stealing every thought and leaving only untamed passion as she pulled him on top of her, into her arms, spreading her thighs and cradling him between.

  Lucas wanted to savor, to taste and touch and give her pleasure she would never forget, but he couldn't hold back.

  Fifteen years was a long time to wait.

  And when she shoved his jeans lower, wrapping her nimble fingers around his arousal and guiding him to the wet warmth of her softness, Lucas lost it. He entered her fully in one hard stroke, buried deep and thick, and she arched off the floor, calling his name in a way he'd never heard before. Deep and throaty. Utterly erotic.

  He withdrew and shoved deeply, sheathing himself, coming home with every measured hot stroke. And Angela wanted more, her hips rising to greet his, to urge him on. All she could think of was that she was finally with him, that her heart was beating in sync with his, and instinct and knowledge melted. They were a perfect match. Without ever knowing each other's needs, they touched and tasted and pulsed with a sweet hot rhythm of desire.

  The roughness of him slid smoothly into her, and she welcomed him, her body pawing for his return. Impatient desire spread and throbbed.

  His pace quickened, and she joined the tempo.

  His arms braced, he captured her head between his palms, his gaze locked with her as he loved her. "I've wanted you forever."

  "Oh, me, too, me, too." Tears glossed her eyes.

  He withdrew completely and plunged, and she gasped and moaned her pleasure, kissing him again and again.

  "Ah, Angel, you feel so good, so perfect."

  "Lucas, Oh, Lucas … more, more—I—"

  "I know, baby, I know. I can feel it. I feel everything about you. Everything." As if he'd made love to her for years, he was attuned to her body, to the flex of feminine muscles, to the heavy throbbing in his groin that fought against explosion he barely held in check.

  Her body tightened, her breathing skipped, and he continued to claim her, pushing her higher, further. Quick and hungry.

  It was raw and primal. Erotic. Pulsing. The power of their cadence driving them across the carpet. He shoved once more, grinding into her, and passion erupted. Blood rushed hotly in his veins as he convulsed with a rapture so pure and complete, it stole his breath.

  Angela felt him throb inside her, elongate and pulse as pleasure ripped and tore through her, joining with his. She bowed beneath him, digging her heels into the carpet and pulling him harder into her body as it gripped and flexed with a heated climax that shattered her soul.

  They remained suspended for a few seconds, straining, the peak of desire slipping over the edge into bliss. Angela opened her eyes, gazing at him, struggling for air, her body satisfied but not sated. She never would be, she thought, and touched his face, seeing him as she had in her dreams. He nipped her fingers and sank down onto her, kissing her again and again, as if he was afraid she'd disappear.

  For long moments they held each other, her legs locked around him, his arms trapping her. Lucas squeezed his eyes shut, feeling complete and whole for the first time in his life. He'd been like a thirsty man running toward water. Nothing could have stopped this. From the moment his mouth touched hers, he never wanted it to end. He still did
n't. A clear, piercing possession reared in him as he ground his mouth against the bend of her throat. She was his. Finally.

  Angela moaned, trying to catch her breath, her hands smoothing over his muscled back.

  Then it hit her. Really hit her what they had done. She'd made love with her best friend. Her truest friend.

  And it was incredible!

  "Oh, Lucas, what have we done?"

  Slowly he lifted his head, kissing her once before meeting her gaze. He realized it was the first time he'd made love to a woman without protection. Worry later, he thought, for it all seemed insignificant to easing the guilt underlying her voice. "If you don't know, Angel…" He leaned back on his knees, taking her with him. "Then we're gonna do it again."

  With her legs wrapped around his hips, he stood and walked to the stairs.

  "And again and again."

  She smiled, her misgivings slipping away beneath her need to be loved by him. "This might take a while."

  "No, Angel, longer, much longer."

  * * *

  Laying her on the bed, he recognized the sudden change in her expression, her concern. "It's done, Angel. Let's enjoy each other," he said, not wanting to hear the reasons they were both pushing to the back of their minds. Not wanting to know that they'd changed their relationship forever and what daylight would bring. Lucas pushed the world aside, stripped off his jeans and sought his darkest desire.

  Angela. In his arms, her soft eyes filled with passion.

  As he came to her naked and muscled, she laid her hand to his chest. "I want to, so badly, but have we ruined everything?" Her gaze searched his as he hovered above her.

  Lucas's brow tightened. "Ruined? Do you think I've been hanging around you for fifteen years so I could get you into my bed?"

  She smiled. "No. But how do you explain this?" She waved sluggishly to their naked bodies.

  "A long time in coming."