by Decadent
But he hadn’t seen her for himself. He didn’t know with his own two eyes that she was all right. Until then, he couldn’t stop the worry.
With two minutes to spare, a nurse approached them. Young, cute, blond, with a pink bow mouth, big tits, and a welcoming smile. He wasn’t interested. Luc glanced, lingered, then let it go.
“She’s up the elevator. Third floor. Room 321. If anyone asks, just tell them Missy said it was okay.” She pointed to the nametag just above her left breast.
Subtle. Deke refrained from rolling his eyes, but only because he was already jogging toward the elevator. Luc followed.
The ride up seemed long. If he’d have known the elevator moved slower than a herd of geriatric elephants, he’d have taken the stairs. He clapped his hands in front of him, noticing that Luc didn’t look nervous. But he did look troubled.
“Cough it up.” Deke didn’t want to do this now, but figured— hoped—he’d be too busy with Kimber later.
Luc met his stare. “This is damn awkward. I guess I should just . . . Have you decided to hate me?”
Hate him? “For keeping your . . . um, issue a secret?”
“My sterility,” Luc supplied.
“I was shocked that night. Said some things I shouldn’t have. You’re like my brother. Too much between us for hate.”
Looking relieved, Luc reached out for a brotherly handshake, a rap of knuckles. He passed it off as casual, but Deke knew it meant a lot to him. Hell, he felt the same.
“Thanks. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I never intended to deceive or manipulate anyone. I love you, and I’m sorry I screwed up.”
“Apology accepted. And that’s about as mushy as it needs to get between us.”
Luc did a crappy job of repressing his smile. “Big surprise there. So what’s next for you? You ’re going to get with Kimber, aren’t you?”
Deke shrugged, but the uncertainty around that answer gnawed at his gut like a hungry chain saw. He wished to hell he knew the answer. Damn, right now, he just needed to hold her, know that she was all right. “We’ll see. What about you? What are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know.”
“I know your road isn’t easy, wanting a baby of your own and being unable . . . Straight up? You’re a good guy. You’d make a great father. I’m sorry for you.”
Luc let loose a long sigh. “It sucks to be able to fuck for hours, until you’re covered in sweat and every muscle in your body screams in protest, until the woman is damn near incoherent . . . and know she’ll never be pregnant by you.”
Yeah, he could see where that would suck for Luc. “Just my advice, man, but I think you should forget about babies for a while and call Alyssa Devereaux. I suspect you feel more for her than you’ve wanted to admit. Even if you two will never have little ones together, it’ll be a hell of a good time practicing.”
“I’ll think about it. I owe her a favor for agreeing to hook up with us in the first place.”
Finally, the elevator doors opened. Deke racewalked to Kimber’s room. He would have flat out run if he was sure they wouldn’t throw him out. Impatience at the slower pace, the winding hallways, chafed him.
Deke found her door. He hit the threshold and stopped.
From her bed, Kimber stared out the wide hospital window, through sterile white miniblinds, at the parking lot and sunny summer day beyond. As if suddenly aware she wasn’t alone, she turned to face him. Them, he realized as Luc stopped just behind him.
A bluish bruise flared across her cheek. A scrape raked her jaw. But what jumped out at Deke most were her swollen eyes and red nose. They shouted the fact she’d been crying.
“Kitten . . .” Deke darted across the room. “Are you in pain? Do I need to find a nurse to get you something?”
Wrapping her arms around her middle, she shook her head and looked at him with eyes so pain-filled and empty.
He sat on the edge of the bed, worked around her IV, and dragged her against him. “Hey, it’s fine. All fine. Cal is behind bars. He’s not going to hurt you again. I won’t let him.”
“I know. Thanks for coming to my rescue,” she whispered. “Jesse has already called three times to apologize.”
Oh, the goddamn pop star. There was a subject guaranteed to send his temper into the stratosphere.
“I hope you told the bastard to leave you alone,” he growled.
“He just called to explain why Cal tried to kill me.”
“The Lance Bass in leather had to call you to explain that Cal was whacked?”
“He told me that Cal had lost another star about a decade ago to marriage. He couldn’t name names, but he said the guy let a promising career fade away so he could play house with his new bride.”
“The pansy-ass pop star was making excuses for his manager?”
“No, just filling in the gaps.”
Deke relaxed. Or tried to. “So . . . what? Cal was going to off you so that Jesse wouldn’t be distracted by you anymore, could keep making his silly-ass CDs, and the old guy could rake in all that money?”
“Cal’s getting old and apparently felt like he couldn’t lose his nest egg.” She shrugged. “Even though I’d turned Jesse down, Cal was worried by Jesse’s pressroom antics and convinced he wasn’t letting go of me, so I guess Cal figured it would be better to eliminate me before Jesse self-destructed.”
“That’s twisted.” Luc shook his head as he walked to the other side of the bed and took her hand. “Hi, sweetheart.”
Kimber looked at Luc and fresh tears tracked down her face. She turned her watery gaze to him and started sobbing again.
“Hey, Cal is going to be the senior citizen of the swinging singles’ prison scene,” Deke joked. “You’re not going to cry for him, are you?”
She shook her head. “It’s not that. I have to tell you . . . I-I’m not . . . There’s no baby.”
Shock blindsided Deke. No baby? What about all the unprotected sex when the pill wasn’t at full strength? What about those damn double blue lines?
Luc sucked in a breath and looked like he’d been punched. Suddenly, Deke knew exactly how he felt.
“I’m sorry . . . I thought—I’d never done a pregnancy test before. I guess it was a false positive. There never was any baby. The doctors told me this morning.”
More tears. Endless drops of the hot, salty things making their way down her face. It tore Deke’s heart out. “Shh. Don’t be sorry. It’s fine. All fine.”
“No, it’s not! I’d grown attached to the idea of having your baby. I wanted that baby. I didn’t know how much until—until I wasn’t having it.” She looked at Luc again. “I’m so sorry. You w-wanted this . . .”
Understatement of the century.
Kimber withdrew from Deke and curled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her bandaged and stitched arms around herself. Shutting him out. Shock was still ricocheting through his body. No baby. No . . . nothing. He frowned and glanced at Luc.
Damn, his cousin was fighting tears so hard, he looked ready to shatter with a single touch.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s not your fault. This . . . curse is mine to bear, and I haven’t done it very well. I pushed both you and Deke, hoping . . . Well, you know what I hoped. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. Put me and my problem out of your mind. Focus on being well and happy.” Luc kissed the top of Kimber’s bowed head.
“You be happy, too.” She looked at him with apology swimming in her eyes.
The expression on Luc’s face said that wasn’t possible. And damn if Deke didn’t feel sorry for his cousin all over again. What would it take for him to make peace with himself?
With a reluctant glance at Kimber, Luc slapped him on the shoulder. Then he was gone.
Deke had no idea what to say into the silence. No baby. Wow. The breath whooshed out of him. He waited for the relief to come. And waited.
Nothing.
And Kimber wasn’t talking. In fact, she was sobbing quietly, given the way her should
ers shook. That tore the blood-pumping guts out of his chest and made him want to beat something and weep himself all at once. He realized she was mourning.
Damn it, something hollow and painful had taken up residence inside him. Yeah, sadness. Regret. Sorrow. In a way, he was grieving, too.
He stroked a hand down her back. “Kitten, don’t be so upset.”
“Don’t be upset?” Her incredulity was like a slap. “I’ll leave the happy stuff to you. Hey, no baby means you have no more worries now. Go out and have a party.”
Fuck that, he started to say, then bit it back. Gentle. Easy. She was hurting.
“Stop. Kitten . . . I’d come to your place last night to tell you I love you. Still love you. I want to be with you. Baby, no baby, that hasn’t changed. My head has been screwed up for a long time, and I let Heather’s death drag me into a mess of shit. I dragged you into it, too. I can’t tell you how damn sorry I am. I still think you can do better, but I’m not going to let the past stand in our way. If you still want me, I want to make it work.”
Her head snapped up, and the need in her eyes was like a jagged blade sawing at his heart. God, she was going to tear him up with that stare all stuffed with pain and hope and yearning.
Her shoulders dropped in defeat. “What’s the point? I love you, but we don’t want the same things.”
“What things?”
“I want babies someday.”
Deke waited for the panic at that thought to arrive. Instead, he saw a mental image of Kimber round and smiling, glowing, happy. With her, he could handle babies. With her, he would love it.
“I’m up for them. I can’t promise that I’ll be perfect. Hell, I don’t even know if I can ...” He blew out a breath. Had to be honest. Had to. “I don’t know if I can make love to you by myself. But I’ll try. And keep trying until it works. You don’t want to be shared. I don’t want to share you. I just want to love you for as long as you’ll let me.”
Kimber opened her mouth, and the doctor walked in the room, chart in hand.
He paused, as if he realized he was interrupting something. But with a professional mask in place, he flipped through Kimber’s chart, then flashed one of those practiced smiles. “Everything looks in order. All your tests came out just fine. Your concussion was mild. I’m writing you a prescription to help with any headaches you might have. Follow up with me in a week. Other than that, you’re free to go. Any questions?”
Kimber shook her head.
“Who will be taking you home?” he asked.
She gulped as fresh tears glassed her eyes. The look on her face . . . God, she’d never been more beautiful.
Sending Deke a radiant smile, Kimber murmured to the doctor, “He is.”
THREE days later, after her father had come home from the hospital and settled into Logan’s place, after some of the media fervor over Cal’s murder attempt had died down, Deke knocked on Kimber’s door at exactly seven o’clock, just as she’d asked. He held tissue-wrapped flowers in one hand and tried to keep his goddamn tie from strangling him with the other. But he wanted to look good for her, treat her right. Do his best.
Tonight was going to make or break them.
She opened the door wearing a filmy red top designed to make his eyes bulge. Halter, low cut in the front. A black skirt flirted with her thighs. Oh, hell. If he had to look at her over the dinner table wearing that, the meal was going to be sheer torture.
“Hi.” Kimber took the flowers from him, stepped back, and invited him in.
Doing his best not to shake like a pansy, Deke stepped inside and shut the door behind him. The table was set with candles, the room piped with subtly sexy music. Something smelled really good. Italian. But when Kimber turned away to find a vase for the flowers, he got a load of the nonexistent back of her blouse—and his need to touch her kicked into overdrive.
Even so, nerves raked up his spine. What if . . . he couldn’t do this alone? He wanted to, God knew, but . . .
Before Deke could continue the destructive trail of thought, he grabbed Kimber’s arms and pulled her back against his chest, caressing his way down her hip. No doubt, she’d feel instantly exactly how hard she made him.
“Did you wear that little number to drive me insane? It’s working.”
She sent him a saucy glance over her nearly bare shoulder. Deke didn’t think he could get any harder. Kimber proved him wrong.
“Hmm. I have a favor to ask you.”
“Favor?” Like what? Her expression gave nothing away.
She set the flowers on the counter, then turned in his arms, cozying up very close to him—and raising his temperature another twenty degrees. Oh yeah, the desire to make love to her was there. That was never a question. Just the . . . follow-through.
“I want to learn about the way you like to have sex.” She stroked her hand up his abs, over his chest, then his shoulder. “With just me.”
Deke swallowed. A few weeks ago, when she’d first come to Luc’s place seeking assistance, she’d spoken very similar words. He’d thought then it was an insane request, and she’d spoken as if his sex life had come from a foreign planet. Now . . . it did. At least for him.
He hadn’t made love to a woman by himself since Heather.
Tonight, he had to try. For her sake. For their sake.
“I’m not sure what that is.” The honesty hurt, but he had to say it.
“We’ll figure it out together. Dinner first or . . .” She glanced down the shadowed hall.
Candlelight glowed golden in the room. And damn, Kimber smelled downright edible. Still, he hesitated. He wasn’t in a hurry to have his failures exposed, if that’s the way the night went. But eating dinner first isn’t going to help you keep your dick stiff if you freak out, either.
Deke exhaled, searching for calm. “Or. Definitely or.”
“Good call. Let me turn the oven down . . .”
Kimber disappeared for a few moments. He heard her in the kitchen, adjusting dials, opening the oven, closing it again. When she emerged again, she handed him a cold beer and held a glass of wine in her hand.
Taking the bottle from her, he downed half of it. Kimber gnawed on her bottom lip as she watched.
“We could talk first.”
“Nothing to say that’s going to change the outcome of tonight.” He just needed to wrap his head around the fact Kimber was exclusively his and act accordingly.
Determined to make their first time alone together as right as he could, Deke set the beer down, plucked the wineglass from her hand and set it next to his bottle. Then picked Kimber up and stalked down the hall to her bedroom.
More candles everywhere reflected off the shades of cream, sage, and cinnamon on the bedspread and walls. Really nice. Really her.
And they were really alone.
He pushed thoughts of everything but Kimber aside as he eased her down to the mattress. Her hands fluttered nervously, one landing across her stomach, bringing into focus the row of neat stitches across her forearm. The sight sobered him.
Kimber had been through so much: a ménage that wasn’t her heart’s desire, attempts on her life, a pregnancy scare, his subsequent blowup and revelations about Heather—and she was still strong, so amazing. What could have happened with Cal served as a stark reminder that life was too short not to reach out and grab the woman he wanted and loved. All he had to do now was touch her, take her, and never let go.
In about two seconds, he had her out of everything but thigh-high stockings and a smile. His own clothes were casualties of the ache inside him in the next heartbeat.
But once he laid his hands on her bare skin, he began to shake again. What if he was an utter fucking failure?
Letting out a troubled breath, Deke covered her body and kissed her feverishly, sinking deep into her mouth, branding her. Failure wasn’t an option. Truth was, he never wanted to be anywhere else. Never wanted anyone else with them or near her. He was going to have to make this work. She was his.
The enticing creamy skin, his.
The pretty berry nipples, his.
The addictive taste of her cream on his tongue, his.
The cries of delight when she gripped the sheets while he licked her into bliss, his.
All his. Just his.
Working his way back up her body, Deke sighed over her delicate female curves, then groaned as her hand suddenly enveloped and stroked his erection. Hell, she didn’t need to prime him. He felt hard enough to drill through concrete.
But he wanted to caress her, celebrate the fact she was in his arms, protect her, shelter her. Love her.
He also wanted to fuck her—in every way he could. He took that as a good sign. Fear edged the arousal . . . but not the usual fear. It wasn’t the panic of worrying about an unexpected pregnancy. This was the fear of letting her down. But every other cell in his body was focused on the scalding need to be inside her and the burning determination to make that a reality.
Easing into the cradle of her thighs, he brushed his lips over hers, then sank in, sampling the desire and hope on her tongue. He seized her mouth again. And again. Damn it, one more time because he couldn’t taste her enough. Couldn’t believe his good fortune after a decade of believing himself unworthy of a woman of his own, much less one this wonderful.
All he had to do now was claim her . . .
“I—I want to make love to you tonight. Every night, kitten. I’m glad you’re mine. I feel so damn lucky.”
“I’m the lucky one. When you look at me like that, I feel loved.”
“You are.” Deke gently worshipped her mouth. “You are.”
“Feel like demonstrating that?” She lifted her hips to him in blatant invitation.
“God, yes.”
Kimber nipped at his shoulder, kissed her way up his neck. “I’m still on the pill, but if you’d rather . . . condoms are in the nightstand.”
They were really going to do this, just the two of them. He hesitated, fearing the nasty sideswipe of panic. But it didn’t come. “Whatever happens we’ll handle it together, right?”
“Yes.”
The reassurance in her voice went straight to his chest, where he felt all damn mushy. The rest of him . . . taut, tense, every bit rigid. Everything from his shoulders to his toes was juiced with adrenaline. Nerves. Anticipation. He’d never needed and feared something so much at once.
