Her Baby and Her Beau

by Victoria Pade

  She might have seen him naked years ago. She might have done a lot of studying and ogling of him since she’d been here. But nothing was like the unrestricted view as he undressed now.

  “Oh, Camden, how you’ve grown...” she muttered, making room for him on the mattress without taking her eyes from the feast in front of her.

  He laughed wickedly as his own gaze took her in once more, too, and his expression—and other substantial parts of him—showed his appreciation.

  Then he joined her on the bed, lying beside her to kiss her again, one hand resting lightly on her stomach.

  But that wasn’t where she wanted it and she was only too glad when it rose to find her breast.

  She’d been reliving his touch since she’d left him poolside on Monday night and still that first sensation took her breath away. Plus the years had taught him skills that made it impossible for her not to melt under the hand that knew precisely when to be soft and gentle, when to be firm and just a little rougher. When to circle her nipple with the lightest of strokes. When to tug and tenderly pinch, every bit of it making her want even more.

  All while she did her own touching, her own rejoicing in the freedom to finally have her hands on what she’d been studying for what seemed like ages. On what felt even better than it looked and fed the desire in her with every inch she explored.

  The man was just magnificent everywhere and she reveled in it. Back and shoulders and arms and pectorals and abs of iron. Thighs front and back, and oh, that derriere!

  His mouth deserted hers then, to kiss her neck, to nibble and nudge and do tiny tongue-flicks on an excruciatingly slow path to her other breast.

  But he stalled before he went as far as she wanted him to go and instead merely placed a scant kiss to the upper swell. He brushed that same spot with his nose, teasing her with hesitation so the yearning would grow.

  So that when he finally went those few inches lower, when he finally kissed her breast once a little farther down, a second time a little farther down, a third time just on the very outer edge of her nipple before he did take her breast into his mouth, it felt so good her spine arched and drew her off the mattress in precious agony.

  But once he put his mouth to work it was a heaven of hot, moist torment that nearly drove her wild.

  Wild enough to dig her fingers into that very fine derriere of his.

  But somehow she knew that that wasn’t exactly where he wanted her hand, and by then it wasn’t where she wanted it, either.

  A little retaliation seemed only fair, though, so she drew that hand to his hip very slowly, doing small strokes there with only her fingertips, lingering until he gave her a little nip accompanied by a guttural groan of complaint to let her know she was torturing him.

  Which made her smile even as he sucked her breast far, far into his mouth and turned her on even more.

  Enough to stop toying with him and reach for him.

  Not the boy she remembered.

  Fabulously all man now—long and hard and so thick.

  The sound he made when she first touched him let her know she’d granted his wish and the heat went up from there.

  Not only was there more intensity in his mouth at her breast, but his hand trailed down her stomach again, diving between her legs and into her in one smooth motion.

  Oh...definitely more skills...

  There was preview in what he was doing and it again stole her breath and arched her spine.

  It just wasn’t enough.

  So she tightened her hand around him and slid a little up and down, up and down...

  Then his control snapped.

  He rolled away from her, out of her reach, opening the drawer on one of his nightstands and grabbing for protection that he applied in a hurry.

  He rolled back when he had and his mouth was on hers again, open wide, ravishing, his tongue there and not, elusive and aggressive, as that divine body came over her, fitting himself between her thighs, teasing her with more than his fingers now.

  But Kyla couldn’t wait any longer to have him. She spread her knees wider in invitation and that was when he slipped into her, making her moan this time as he went just slowly enough, slow and steady, until he was all there.

  Kyla felt her muscles tighten around him as if to keep him within her forever, but still he slid partway back, then in again, insistent but careful, easing himself into her, retreating, picking up speed in measured paces.

  But still the speed came and Kyla met and matched it, her arms around him, her eyes closed as she was carried away by sensation, by the feel of him inside of her, by what he was awakening, nurturing, making grow and rise.

  And then what hadn’t happened for her that first awkward time happened now, and he took her to a peak higher than she’d ever reached. So high she couldn’t do anything but push up into him, frozen, immobile, seized in the grip of something so incredible she didn’t even need to breathe, something so amazing she gave herself over to it—to him—completely, trusting him to make it last and last and last...

  And last it did, blissfully long, engulfing her, consuming her in a way she never wanted to end.

  Then, just as it began to, he plunged even deeper into her and reached that same peak himself. Strong and unyielding above her, most of his weight gloriously on top of her, letting her feel what was happening to him.

  She curled her legs over his, reached for his rear end again and drew him in deeper still, holding him there until his entire body shuddered with relief. Until muscle by muscle started to let up, to relax, to make him heavier and heavier on top of her.

  For a moment they stayed like that and Kyla savored it—trying to absorb every detail, every nuance, every inch of where his body met hers.

  Then weakness finally made her legs fall from around his to the mattress and he took some of his weight onto his arms again to raise his upper half above her and lay his forehead to the top of her head.

  “Did I hurt you this time?” he asked in a passion-gravelly voice.

  She smiled. “Not even once.”

  “Good,” he said on a replete sigh, clearly worried that he might have.

  She was sorry when he slipped out of her but happy again when he’d cleaned up and returned to pull her to lie close against his side, to use the hollow of his shoulder as a pillow.

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this after months of insomnia, but I need to sleep,” he said with a laugh then.

  “I’m a tranquilizer?” she joked.

  “Oh, you’re so much more than that...” he moaned. “And I need more of it, if you’ll just give me a little rest first.”

  “And if I say no?” She drew a circle around his nipple, watching it tighten not quite as impressively as hers did.

  He laughed, a very sexy rumble from deep in his chest. “I’ll try to oblige you.”

  “But if you rest?”

  “You won’t be sorry,” he promised, hugging her closer.

  “Maybe just a little nap then,” she said, looking up at him once more.

  But for some reason seeing the softness of his smile, the lines of that masculine face in pure tranquility, flooded her with feelings.

  Feelings that terrified her.

  Feelings that she couldn’t—wouldn’t—give in to.

  So she closed her eyes and let the exhaustion pull her away from them and back into her own serenity there in his arms.

  Dodging all the emotions that had threatened, she just immersed herself in the physical feelings that were too good to let go of.

  Chapter Nine

  “Hey, little girl, you’re making a lot of noise,” Beau said softly as he reached the side of Immy’s crib at sunrise on Wednesday.

  Seeing him, hearing his voice, the infant went from crying to a whimper and then she put her fist in her mouth to suck on it, letting him know she was hungry.

  Or at least that was how Beau read it.

  By now they had an early morning routine—she seemed to know that when
he came into the room the bottle wasn’t far behind, so she usually quieted while he changed her diaper, pacifying herself with the fist sucking.

  Even so, he made sure to be quick with the diaper change, then he took her with him downstairs to heat her bottle. Once he was ready to feed her he went somewhere to sit—sometimes at the breakfast nook, sometimes in the family room, sometimes outside.

  Today he took Immy and the bottle back up to the nursery and sat in the rocking chair.

  Any other day he would have been up for an hour or two before her. He would have taken the baby monitor with him to his workout room so he could hear her if she started to cry before he was finished putting himself through his paces. Some mornings, after her bottle and a good burping, Immy fell back to sleep and if she did that and left him with nothing to do, he took her with him back to his basement gym to do another workout while she snoozed on a blanket on the floor nearby.

  But today was different.

  For the first time he’d had to drag himself out of bed both for the 2:00 a.m. feeding and for this one.

  And he was hoping Immy would fall back asleep so he could return her to her crib and go back to his own bed.

  Where Kyla was.

  Sitting in the rocker, he positioned Immy in the crook of his left arm and offered her the bottle. She took it, peacefully settled into eating, and he rested his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes.

  If he gave in to it, he could be asleep again himself in minutes. He hadn’t felt like that since he’d been discharged and it was nice.

  But if he made it back to bed it wasn’t more sleep he was actually looking forward to. He had high hopes for round four of making love to Kyla...

  Just the thought of her, of the night they’d had together, of the possibility that it might not have to be over, made him smile. And for a minute he let himself bask in a very real sense of calm and contentment that he hadn’t experienced in longer than he could remember. It was what he’d expected to feel being home again but hadn’t been able to achieve. Until now. With Kyla.

  Kyla, who had told him she was moving out...

  He opened his eyes. And there was no more smiling.

  He hadn’t thought about what Kyla had told him since they’d gone on to the other—much, much better—things last night. But now there it was, hitting him all over again the way it had hit him when she’d said it—like a roadside bomb almost as big as the news that she’d been pregnant fourteen years ago.

  She was mostly well again and she was leaving.

  And recalling that made something rip through him that was worse than shrapnel.

  She was leaving.

  He was going to lose her again—that had been his first thought last night when she’d told him about her friend’s apartment, and that was what he thought again now.

  Leaving...

  Like he’d left her.

  When other things had fallen into play and fourteen damn years had happened and they’d been lost to each other that whole time.

  Trying to stay grounded, he reminded himself that she wasn’t disappearing off the face of the earth. That she would be nearby. That he was still signed on to help her with Immy’s inheritance—a built-in reason to go on seeing her. And Immy, too.

  But it didn’t make it any better.

  It didn’t even make it better when he told himself that there wasn’t anything that said he couldn’t keep in touch beyond business, that they couldn’t date.

  Because he was beyond wanting to merely date Kyla.

  And because of that damn joke she’d made the night before about him babysitting for Immy while she dated somebody else...

  Yeah, that had hit him hard, too, joke or no joke.

  The thought of her with some other guy?

  It had been bad enough hearing about the men she’d kept company with between her time with him that summer and now. At least none of it had panned out and he hadn’t had to watch it.

  But thinking about her with anyone else now, thinking that she might get serious with someone, start a future with them, was torture.

  And dammit, being relegated to just dating her himself felt like a demotion after living together, caring for a child together.

  Their time together had already been more concentrated. As it had been that summer. Isolated. Insulated in a way that had made it more personal, more private. Only about them.

  How could he go from that to just seeing her by prearranged appointments? To dating her, when they already had so much more than that?

  He was in a tailspin and he tried to stop it by asking himself what else he was going to do. She was right—she was a free agent. And no, she probably couldn’t just stay here forever.

  Plus, only yesterday morning he’d told his brother that it wasn’t fair to bring anybody into his life before he had everything worked out. His job, his future, himself. That things needed to be in better shape before he could even think about bringing a relationship into the mix. Especially when Kyla was in so much upheaval herself. And given their history.

  All of that was true. Absolutely true. Every bit of it.

  But up against the thought of her leaving?

  None of it mattered. He only cared about her leaving.

  So what was he going to do?

  Seth had said that he didn’t have to be the perfect civilian before he could have some happiness. Beau had shot that down. But now he considered it.

  He was nowhere near to being the perfect civilian, that was for sure. But as he thought about it, he realized that Kyla had helped him get a little closer.

  Thanks to her he had a job to do within Camden Incorporated now, which meant that he could finally go to work. That would put structure and purpose into every day and finally start him on a civilian track that didn’t make him feel like a slacker.

  His family seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at the job placement, too, and he thought that would go a long way in making them stop worrying about him. And with the common ground they all had now, he hadn’t seemed so much like an outsider on Sunday and hopefully things would build from there.

  No, nothing had been implemented yet, nothing was on a firm course, but at least he had some direction. And while he might not be in the shape he’d been demanding of himself, he decided that he was in better shape than he’d thought.

  But was it good enough to try for more with Kyla?

  Kyla, who had a lot on her own plate.

  Who had spent the last fourteen years thinking he was a dirtbag.

  Who seemed uncomfortable with the idea of raising Immy with the structured schedules his background had trained him to provide.

  He wasn’t sure.

  There was last night...

  But he had no way of knowing if that had been the same thing it was when they were teenagers—a way of saying goodbye.

  Something clenched inside him all over again at that thought.

  It had been bad enough leaving her behind fourteen years ago, and there was so much more to her now.

  Warm and kind and caring. Thoughtful and strong and smart and funny. Sometimes tough on him—just the way he liked it.

  She was Kyla from the past, but refined and improved with the girl in her still there to tease him and call him on anything that he needed to be called on. She had the power to loosen him up when nothing else could. The capacity to make him relax more than he’d been able to since he’d been discharged, more than he’d been able to even before that. She softened his rough edges. She made him feel things that no one before her or since her had. Kyla and Immy, too.

  And finding Kyla again was what had truly brought him home.

  How could he let any of that go?

  He looked down at Immy to gauge her progress on the bottle, wondering as he did if maybe H.J. had stepped in and changed what hadn’t been meant to be changed.

  Because here they were, where they’d left off—complete with a baby the way it might have been then—and this was what f
elt right.

  He wanted Kyla in his life no matter what shape that life was in or where it was headed.

  He wanted Immy in his life—because staring down at her and thinking about someone else coming in and loving her, raising her, hurt as much as the thought of another man with Kyla.

  They were his. His girls. And that was all there was to it. Whether his life was perfect or imperfect. Whether the timing was right or not. Regardless of how scarred the past might be.

  They were his. Here and now.

  That was just how it had to be.

  It had to be.

  He closed his eyes again, letting his conclusions sink in.

  And hoping to God that Kyla felt the same way he did.

  * * *

  Groggy and heavy-lidded, Kyla made it as far as the nursery door and silently deflated against the jamb, anchored there by the heaviness of not nearly enough sleep. Of hardly any sleep, really.

  On any other night she wouldn’t have been in Beau’s room to hear Immy’s cries over the monitor, so she would have gone right on sleeping through them. But being in his room all night had kept that from happening. Plus there had been other things occupying her time that hadn’t involved sleep.

  She’d wanted to get up for the 2:00 a.m. feeding, but Beau had nixed the idea. What he’d wanted—he’d said with her naked body molded to his, his arms around her and after kissing the top of her head—was for her to conserve her energy until he got back.

  She’d conserved it, but she hadn’t slept and instead had arranged herself in his bed so that she could again watch him shed his sweatpants once Immy was fed and taken care of. What had followed was their second session of lovemaking, about an hour of talking and joking and teasing afterward, then more lovemaking. And altogether that lack of sleep, coupled with all the...exertion, had left her tired. A good tired, but tired nonetheless.

  It was morning now, though—however early—so after Beau had again slipped on his sweatpants and left the room, she’d fought back and forth with sleep for awhile then gotten out of bed, too.

  She’d spotted him across the hall in the nursery when she’d left the master suite, but now that she’d reached Immy’s room she gave in to yet another indulgence—since he was facing just enough away from the door not to have seen her, she rested against the jamb to watch him without announcing herself.