The Christmas Wedding Ring (Hqn)

by Susan Mallery

  If only he knew the truth. Wanting her was the most precious gift he could have given her. No matter what, she would be able to remember this for the rest of her life.

  * * *

  Dylan held Molly protectively. While he was glad he’d finally convinced her that he really wanted her, taking off his clothes had been a pretty stupid idea. He was ready to take her. It was all he could do not to kneel between her thighs and drive home to paradise. He did still plan to do that, but not for a while. Not until he was sure she’d already had her pleasure. He didn’t want any part of their lovemaking to be less than perfect for her.

  He eased her onto her back and started trailing kisses down her neck and chest. He only touched the inside of her left breast, being careful not to jostle it or bump the incision. He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but it wasn’t ugly at all. There was a small red line where they’d cut her, and a bruise surrounding the area. The breast was obviously tender and swollen. The shape might have changed slightly, but he hadn’t seen her before the surgery, so he couldn’t be sure. He didn’t really care. As far as he was concerned, she was lovely.

  He moved until he was kneeling between her legs, then he continued to kiss his way down her body. She was soft and sweet. Both her taste and scent appealed to him. He cupped her hips, liking the swell of flesh that filled his hands. Molly was all womanly curves, welcoming and yielding and he was ready to take them both to where they wanted to go.

  He explored her and quickly found the spots that made her beg for more. He listened to her breathing, felt her tension and continued accordingly. He wanted this to be incredibly special for her. Not just the release, but all of it. When she thought of him, he wanted this night hardwired into her brain.

  He was torn, wanting to love her like this forever, yet desperately wanting her to find her release. In the end, he helped her over the edge and caught her when she fell. After, she welcomed him inside of her.

  Chapter Twelve

  For the second time in as many days, Molly woke up with the realization that she’d spent the night in Dylan’s arms. It was, she thought sleepily, a great way to start the morning.

  This time he was still with her, still asleep, stretched out on his back, his head on the pillow close to hers. He was warm, generating as much heat as an electric blanket, very welcome on this chilly December morning. She wondered if she dared fantasize about what it would be like to wake up next to Dylan every morning.

  She rolled onto her side and looked at him, at the strong profile, the straight nose and firm mouth, at the stubble covering his cheeks and jaw. She knew he wasn’t for her; he never had been. Through a series of circumstances she could neither explain nor hope to duplicate, they’d ended up here—together. It was only for a short period, but that was all right with her. He’d been so kind about everything. Even before he’d known her secrets, he’d been a good friend. She couldn’t ask for better.

  So this was going to be enough. It might take her a while to believe it. After all, she was a normal woman who would hate to give up the best man she’d ever known. She was very much afraid that, after they went their separate ways, she would face the most difficult Christmas of her life because the one gift she wished for more than any other was impossible. But in time she would be able to put all this in perspective and just remember how wonderful everything had been.

  Molly stretched. Several muscles ached pleasantly. She smiled. Must have been all that unfamiliar activity, with her body tensing, then relaxing. Last night had been...indescribable. Maybe there were words, but she couldn’t think of them. It was as if they’d discovered a different kind of lovemaking. She’d been with men before. Okay, just two, but she wasn’t a virgin. She not only understood the mechanics of what went on between men and women, she’d participated in the event herself. Yet except for the most basic of descriptions, what she and Dylan had done together bore little or no resemblance to the other experiences in her life.

  He’d been so incredibly tender. And not just about her breast. He’d treated her as if she were someone special, as if her body were precious, almost sacred, and deserved to be worshipped.

  They’d made love again in the night. After dozing for a while, she’d awakened to find him stroking her. This time it had been dark and they’d been forced to find their way by touch alone. She’d enjoyed the mystery and the discoveries. If his groans of pleasure, his rapid breathing and the way he’d called out her name over and over were anything to go by, he’d had a good time, as well. She smiled at the memory.

  “You’re obviously happy about something,” he said.

  She looked at him and saw that he was awake. “Good morning. How’d you sleep?”

  “Great.”

  He shifted so he could put his arm around her and pull her close. She went willingly into his embrace. Dylan had, through his actions, restored her to herself. She would always be able to carry that with her. With him, she’d learned that her body was still lovely and that all the important parts worked.

  “Me, too.” He glanced at the clock on her nightstand. “Looks like we slept in.”

  “Are you surprised?”

  “No.” He kissed her forehead. “After all, you kept me up half the night.”

  “Me? What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t pretend innocence,” he teased. “You were hanging on to me, touching me, waking me from a sound sleep with your insatiable appetites.”

  She heard the laughter in his voice, read his pleasure in his expression. “That was you. You have things mixed up.”

  “No way. You were grabbing me in the night.”

  She pulled back far enough to start tickling him. He grabbed her hands to stop her. She wriggled free and continued her attack.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he warned.

  “Oh, yeah, like I’m scared.” She attacked him again, this time going for his feet.

  He yelped and jumped out of bed. “That is unnecessary,” he said, his voice stern.

  She laughed. “Since when do you get to set the rules?”

  “I’ve always set the rules. I’m completely in charge of this situation.”

  Soft morning light filtered through the blinds. He looked so beautiful standing there, his lean body exposed to her gaze. Even as she watched, he started to get aroused.

  “Yup, you’re in charge,” she said. “Nothing happens without your express permission. That’s good to know.”

  He glanced down. “Damn. Betrayed by my own body.”

  Then he lunged at her.

  She didn’t have enough warning. She tried to scramble off the other side of the bed, but it was too late. He got hold of one of her ankles and pulled her back toward him. When he’d wrestled her into submission on the bed, he smoothed her hair off her face and smiled at her. “I’m glad you’re like this,” he said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I was afraid you’d have second thoughts about last night. About us being lovers.”

  The word made her shiver. Lovers. That was nice. It implied that they would be doing it again, that last night hadn’t been a one—make that a two time thing.

  “I don’t regret anything,” she said. “I’m not even going to grill you on why you did it.”

  “I made love with you because I wanted you. No other reason.”

  “Oh, sure, go ahead and be logical.” She softened the words with a smile. “My natural inclination is to doubt myself, but in this circumstance, I’m going to let it go and just believe you.”

  “You make it sound like that’s difficult to do.”

  “You’d be amazed at how hard it is.”

  “I knew I’d impressed you.”

  It took a second for her to register the teasing glint in his eyes, not to mention the other meaning of his words. She
slipped a hand between them. Instantly her own body came to life.

  “No!” he said quickly and stood up. He took her hand and tugged her until she was sitting on the edge of the bed. “I plan to make love with you over and over, but I insist we at least pretend that we’re going to get up and start our day.”

  As always, he made her laugh. “If you say so.” She gave him one last stroke, making it slow and sensual, forcing him to catch his breath. “We could start with a shower.”

  She felt bold issuing that kind of invitation. But while she was a little scared, she was comforted by the fact that this was Dylan and she believed him when he said he wouldn’t hurt her.

  “I’d like that,” he said as he took her hand and led her into the small bathroom.

  Five minutes later they were under the spray, washing each other. As she rubbed his chest, he rubbed hers. He was careful not to bump her near her incision. Even so, they kept getting in each other’s way.

  “We can’t do this,” she said, and laughed. “You go first. Wash me, then I’ll wash you.”

  “Fine by me.”

  She stood quietly while he soaped her body. Even as she told herself this was just a way of getting clean, she found herself leaning into his touch. She liked the feel of his slick hands all over her body. He seemed more interested in cleaning some spots than others. Her breasts received an extra dose of sudsy attention, as did her fanny and her legs. He was gentle between her thighs, careful not to make her sore.

  When it was her turn, she worked as slowly, building up a rich lather before smoothing the soap all over his body. He interrupted her by pulling her close and kissing her. She went willingly into his embrace. As the water poured over them, he ran his hands up and down her back. His arousal jutted against her belly.

  There had been a time in the night when she’d awakened to wonder if it was all just a dream. In the darkness, she’d worried that he had made love with her because he felt sorry for her. That it was an act of mercy, not desire. As she’d thought it through, she’d realized that Dylan wasn’t that kind of man.

  He turned off the shower and reached for the large towels hanging on the rack. After he wrapped her in one, he quickly dried off himself, then led her to the counter.

  “What are you doing?” she asked as he urged her up on the counter next to the sink.

  “Nothing,” he said, stepping between her legs.

  He cupped her face and started to kiss her again. They were both naked, both still damp from the shower. Her secret woman’s place was also damp, but from other things. She couldn’t believe how much she wanted him again.

  He deepened the kiss. His hands moved up and down her back. She felt the maleness of him probing, so she reached down to guide him inside. The kiss intensified as their bodies moved together. Molly felt herself quickly reaching for release.

  As she neared the peak, she realized Dylan was carefully holding his torso slightly away from hers. In this most physical moment, he was hyperaware of her left breast and that it was tender. She wanted to weep from the wonder of it. From how special he was and how he made her feel.

  Her muscles tensed in readiness. Dylan grabbed her hips and pulled her nearer as he, too, soared to completion. And then she knew. At the exact moment they gazed into each other’s eyes and watched the explosion, she understood that what she’d thought was merely the continuation of her crush was so much more. Perhaps it had started that way, but something had fundamentally changed between them. At least for her. She wasn’t with Dylan because he was good to her, or handsome or funny or bright. She was with him because she loved him. Perhaps she’d always loved him.

  It wasn’t part of the rules, it wasn’t supposed to be allowed, but there it was.

  And then all she could do was feel as her body lost itself in the inevitable. She caught him round the waist and held him to her, feeling the tension slowly fade from him.

  When they’d both caught their breath, she leaned her head against his chest and listened to the rapid beat of his heart. She’d broken the rules. This was supposed to be for fun, an escape. She wasn’t supposed to fall in love with him.

  But there was no going back. Molly figured that if she had to get stuck on someone who couldn’t possibly love her back, she would prefer it be Dylan. He would never be cruel. If he found out the truth, he would never use it against her. Of course, if she had her way, he would return to his life ignorant of her feelings. Better for both of them, she thought, to part as friends. As for her, she’d promised herself no regrets and she was going to keep that promise. No matter what, she wouldn’t be sorry about loving him. Not ever.

  * * *

  “How many permanent pounds does the average woman gain with each pregnancy?” Molly asked, reading from the card. She scanned the answers, then read the four possibilities aloud. “Huh. I would have thought it was a different amount.”

  Dylan stared at her. “You have to be kidding. They expect me to know this?”

  “I believe this game was your idea. Are you saying that I know more about men than you know about women?” Her self-satisfied smile made him want to grin in return.

  They were sprawled out on the living-room floor playing a board game they’d purchased that morning at a toy store’s Christmas sale. The object was to pit the sexes against each other, with men answering questions about women and vice versa. After failing at a question about tightening lug nuts on a car, Molly was holding her own. Dylan was beginning to think he’d made a mistake in picking this game. Every other question he got seemed to be about weight gain, cosmetics or decorating tips.

  “Read me the answers again,” he said.

  Molly rolled onto her back and did.

  He’d never had much contact with pregnant women and didn’t know how much weight they gained altogether. “Three pounds,” he guessed.

  Molly waved the card at him. “Five. That’s good to know.”

  If. She didn’t say the word, but he heard it anyway. If she got through this thing with her breast. If she found out the news was good and she was going to make it.

  She would make a great mom, he thought, remembering how she’d talked about her nieces. The girls were individuals to her. She didn’t lump them together and get them all the same gift because it was convenient. She’d given real thought to what each of them would love to find under the Christmas tree.

  He watched her as she tossed the single die that would tell her which category her next question would come from. She wore her hair loose. The afternoon was cool and they were both in jeans and sweaters they’d also bought that morning. His was dark green, hers was maroon with a white snowflake on the front. He liked looking at her, at her pretty face, at her body. He liked watching her move. Sometimes he would come up behind her and just hold her, wanting to feel her close to him.

  It wasn’t just about sex, although there was plenty of that between them. It was about a kind of skin hunger. As if he couldn’t get enough of touching her and being next to her. It had only been a couple of days since they’d become lovers. Sometimes he felt as if he’d been with her for a lifetime. She was all he could think about, all he wanted. When the outside world intruded, he resented that.

  But intrude it did. Now that he knew the truth about why she’d come away, she no longer went in the other room to make her nightly phone call. She sat next to him and dialed voicemail. She was quiet for a minute, then she would slowly shake her head as she pushed the off button.

  Nothing. Not a single word from the doctor. How long did these things take? Didn’t they realize how hard it was for Molly to wait to hear the news? They’d told her that everything took twice as long during the holiday season, but that seemed especially cruel to him. He ached for her and could do nothing about it.

  Even so, even though they both just waited, this was still a special time. The best holi
day season he could remember, maybe the best of his life. He really enjoyed being with her, perhaps more than he’d ever enjoyed being with anyone. She was fun to be around. She was too intelligent to be easy, but he didn’t mind that. He was glad that she’d come to him when she’d wanted to run away and that he’d been smart enough to go with her.

  He’d never felt this way about anyone, he realized. That should have terrified him, but he was getting used to feeling strange when he was around her. He tried hard not to think about what would happen if she was taken from him. He couldn’t bear the thought.

  “Don’t, Dylan,” she said, rolling over and staring at him.

  “What am I doing?” he asked.

  She reached out and touched the back of his hand. “You’re looking sad. Your eyes get this faraway gaze and I know you’re worrying about me.”

  He thought about lying, but what was the point? “I do think about the possibilities,” he told her. “Not just about what the doctor might tell you, but also the future. Christmas is getting closer. Our time together is almost up.”

  “I know. I’ll miss you.”

  Which meant she had no expectation of ever seeing him again. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. He was only ever going to be a temporary part of her life. Yet sometime in the past few days—even before she’d told him about the lump—he’d toyed with the idea of making it more.

  The thought should have sent him running for the hills. He knew better than to get involved. And yet...There was something about being with Molly that felt so damn right.

  “I’ll miss you, too,” he told her.

  It was an understatement. He couldn’t remember what his world had been like without her and he didn’t want to find out now. Only he didn’t have anything to give her. Oh, he had money and could offer to share his big house, but that wouldn’t matter to her. He couldn’t promise to love her. What was love? He’d never figured that out. Besides, she deserved someone as wonderful as she was. He was just some motorcycle loser from the wrong side of town. He’d grown up with alcoholic parents who hadn’t given a damn about him. If they hadn’t cared, why should anyone else?