by BETH KERY
Moments later she tapped lightly at Ryan’s partially opened door.
“Come in,” he said.
He turned from where he’d been standing at his open closet, a leather belt in his hand. He froze when he saw her. Never taking his eyes off her, he draped the belt on a hook and spun to face her. He wore only the dark blue trousers from his uniform.
“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice low.
“So do you,” she said sincerely, giving him a shaky smile.
He came toward her. Suddenly she was in his arms, surrounded by his solid male strength and breathing in the subtle, spicy scent of his aftershave. That full, wonderful feeling she’d been experiencing on and off all day swelled tight in her chest cavity.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Faith?” he murmured, his gaze scoring her.
“Yes. Today, I’m sure,” she whispered.
His nostrils flared slightly. He bent to kiss her and their mouths fused. Just like during their wedding, a brilliant palette of sensation suffused her consciousness. His mouth was so demanding, and yet so gentle, warm and firm. His smooth skin and dense muscles flowed like a sensual blessing through her seeking fingers. He parted her lips with his tongue, and she felt herself melting into him. She delved her fingertips into the thick, crisp hair on his head and pushed him down closer to her. He bent his knees and put his hands on her hips, pressing their bodies almost as close as a man and woman could get.
Almost.
She gave a soft cry when he lifted her and carried her over to the bed.
“I’ve waited for this for what feels like forever,” he said after he’d laid her on the bed. He stood over her, his expression almost grim with desire as he looked down at her.
“Let’s not wait anymore,” she said, reaching for him.
He came down over her, pressing her into the mattress. She loved his solid weight, adored the way he kissed her with feverish possession. She felt burned by him, scorched by his intensity. She made a sound of protest when he broke their kiss and rolled onto his side, his front facing her. He placed his hand below her ribs. It looked dark and masculine next to the pale, soft fabric. Her breath stuck in her lungs when he ran his hand over the fullness of her breasts. He brushed the thin straps off her shoulders and lowered the fabric.
For a few seconds he said nothing as he stared at her bare breasts. His heated gaze caused an ache of longing at her core.
“So beautiful. So feminine.” He touched the side of a breast. “So soft.” His gaze rose to meet hers. She stilled when she saw the deep emotion in his dark eyes. “Our child is going to nurse here, one day.”
“Yes,” she mouthed.
“Faith...” he whispered heatedly. She watched, enthralled, as his dark head dipped. She trembled as she watched him kiss a pink nipple, then slip it between his lips. Her entire body seemed to sizzle in sympathy with the flesh in his warm mouth when he drew on her so sweetly.
A sharp cry broke free of her lips.
His large hand closed gently over her other breast, his fingertips gently manipulating the beading center. He shaped her to his palm and lifted his head, holding her breast in his hand and slipping the other nipple into his mouth.
She whimpered in rising need and raked her fingers through his thick hair. Desire pinched at her almost painfully, but he seemed so intent on his task, she couldn’t bear to make him stop. She stared sightlessly at the ceiling while he teased and manipulated and worshipped her sensitive flesh, mounting her desire unbearably.
“Ryan,” she finally pleaded softly.
He lifted his head from her flushed, aching breasts. His eyelids looked heavy with arousal.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his hand moving along her sides, stroking her sensitive skin even as he lowered the fabric down over her waist, and then her hips. Soon, she was lying before him, naked. His gaze burned her. His hands followed, worshiping and stimulating all at once. He traced the shape of her hip and thigh with his palm, and then lowered his head to her stomach. She moaned at the sensation of his open mouth on her bellybutton, the ache at the center of her becoming unbearable. She clamped her thighs shut to alleviate the pressure.
“Shhhh,” he soothed, rising over her, his hip next to hers, one elbow bracing him. He touched between her thighs, his fingertips gentle and knowing. He kissed her mouth softly when she cried out.
“Open your thighs, Faith,” he whispered hoarsely next to her lips.
She hadn’t realized she’d been closing them so tightly, as if she was unconsciously protecting herself from the rush of sensation and feeling that would come if she exposed herself. She looked at Ryan through heavy eyelids, his face so rigid with desire, and knew she’d been foolish to try to keep herself separate from him...safe from him.
Only a coward would keep themselves safe from the one they loved.
She parted her thighs. A slight convulsion went through his tight facial muscles.
“Oh, Faith,” he muttered thickly. “You’re so sweet.”
“Ryan,” she whispered, trembling. His hand moved, tenderly exploring the folds of her sex, granting pleasure wherever he touched.
He kissed her, and she tasted the salt of the sheen of sweat from his upper lip. Or was that from her tears? His fingers stroked her and the pleasurable friction mounted. Her hand moved frantically along his shoulders and neck, clutching spasmodically as the pressure swelled.
“All those flowers out there today, and here’s the loveliest one by far,” she heard him say as if from a great distance. She cried out sharply as pleasure broke over her. Ryan kissed her deliberately while she shook, making sure she could breathe, but seeming to relish the sensation of parted lips and her small cries falling past his own. His warm hand remained between her thighs, coaxing every last shudder of pleasure from her flesh.
Faith blinked a moment later, coming back to herself. Her eyes widened when she saw that Ryan had removed his pants. He lay next to her naked, his thigh draped over her leg. She felt his firm, warm arousal pressed against her hip.
She moved without conscious thought, touching him. He shut his eyes and made a low, restrained sound in his throat. He felt so heavy in her sliding palm, the skin softer to the touch than she would have expected...like warm silk stretched tight over steel.
“Faith,” he mumbled, his voice gravely with arousal. She met his gaze and continued to caress him. “Will it...will it hurt the baby?”
“No,” she whispered. “Absolutely not. The baby is very well protected, and I’m a low-risk pregnancy.”
He stretched toward the bedside table. She watched, wide-eyed as he rolled on a condom, and then he was coming over her, his arms taking his upper-body weight, his hips between her opened thighs.
A cry of amazement leaked out of her lips when he entered her slowly. He paused.
Every muscle in his body looked like it was flexed tight and hard. It was a wondrous sight.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he grated out.
She touched his narrow hips. “You’re not hurting anything. It feels wonderful,” she whispered. She urged him with her hands, welcoming him.
His groan sounded like it was ripped out of him. Faith cried out shakily, for suddenly she was filled with Ryan again, and he throbbed high and deep inside her. How could she have forgotten how exquisite the sensation was?
How right.
He began to move, and pleasure rippled through her in shocking waves. She watched his face, and knew he experienced the same bliss, that their desire fused them, made them one. He stroked her faster, and her entire world began to quake. Sweat gleamed on his rigid muscles as he took them both higher, and she joined in the dance, moving in the rhythm he set with perfect synchrony.
She gritted her teeth together and cried out in longing when she felt his desire swell hard and deeper inside her. He paused and bent his elbows, bringing his mouth to hers. As he kissed her again, both of them hovered on the edge of ecstasy.
“You’re mine, Faith. Can�
�t you feel it?”
She cried out sharply, his incendiary words igniting her release. She felt him move, sensed him straining, eager to leap into the fire with her.
Sharing that sweet, inevitable explosion of desire with Ryan hurled Faith into a whole new territory of existence.
Chapter Eleven
“Faith? Are you asleep?” Ryan asked her.
She smiled. She loved the sound of his deep voice roughed by both sleep and desire. They both lay on their side, Ryan spooning her. He moved his hand slowly and lazily across her bare belly, ribs and breasts. The sunlight filtering through the window had taken on the warm, golden cast of sunset.
“No,” she said quietly.
“Do you love this house? I mean...was it your dream to always come back here as an adult?”
“No,” she snorted. She glanced around when he remained silent. Had he been super-serious? “I mean I like this house and everything, but I didn’t buy it because of that. The circumstances just all collided. That’s how I ended up here. I’d started my practice, and it was going really well. My parents were planning to retire to Florida, and then Jesse died. So—” she shrugged “—I bought their house.”
“Right,” he said. “So it’s not like it’s your dream house or anything?”
“Hardly,” she murmured.
“Is there space in the garage for me to set up a workshop? I want to get started on the baby’s shelving unit.”
She twisted her head farther on the pillow to see him better. He gently pushed her hair out of her face.
“My father had a workshop in the basement. Do you think that would work?”
His hand paused in the action of smoothing her hair. “Of course it would. I didn’t know you had a basement.”
“You didn’t know we did,” she corrected, smiling and snuggling back in the pillow.
His chuckle was low and gruff and delicious. He swept his hand over her shoulder and chest. “Is your father’s workshop far enough away from the living area? I don’t want to bother you with too much sound or a sawdust smell.”
“There’s good ventilation in it, and it’s technically in a room beneath the garage. I should have thought to tell you about it before. I think it’d be perfect,” she said, distracted because now he was caressing the upper swells of her breasts and it felt very good. She inhaled sharply when his fingertips detailed a nipple.
“Your breasts are extremely sensitive,” he murmured, his mouth near her ear. She shivered at the sensation of his warm breath.
“From the pregnancy, I suppose.”
She felt him harden next to her and hid a smile. They’d made love, and touched, and talked and repeated the cycle several times now, but Ryan didn’t appear to be tiring of the routine.
“Not just from the pregnancy,” he said. He slid his other arm beneath her and touched the other breast. Faith moaned softly, desire swelling in her yet again as he finessed both nipples at once. “I remember how sensitive they were on Christmas Eve.” He shaped the flesh of one breast into his palm, molding and squeezing gently, while he continued to pluck at a nipple. She cried out shakily and instinctively curled her body into his, sealing their skin, feeling his arousal next to her backside. “How lovely they were,” he continued to rasp in her ear. “If you had any idea how often I’ve thought about your breasts since then, you’d probably run for the hills.”
She snorted with laughter, and then moaned as he took both of her breasts into his hands. “There aren’t any hills around here.”
He removed one hand and she heard the bedside drawer open.
“You’d run for a sand dune then,” he assured gruffly a moment later.
He slid inside her at the same time his hand wedged between her thighs, stimulating her. Faith gasped in undiluted pleasure. He grunted gutturally as pulled her to him and flexed toward her at once, and their flesh fused.
He kissed her ear. “You’re the sweetest thing in existence, bar none.”
* * *
Morning sunlight peaked around the curtains as Ryan stuck his nose into the fragrant juncture of Faith’s neck and shoulder. He nuzzled her. She stirred and murmured.
“Wake up,” he said. “You may have plans to keep me in this bed as a slave to your every whim, but even slaves need food. Come on. Let’s take a shower and I’ll take you to brunch in town.”
“I can make us something here,” Faith mumbled sleepily.
“Uh-uh,” he said, playfully slapping the sweet swell of her hip to rouse her. “You’re not cooking. It’s your honeymoon, remember?”
She looked over at him, her heavy eyelids widening slightly.
“Okay. It’s not much of a honeymoon,” he agreed. “But I’ll make it up to you, someday.”
Her smile made something curl tight in his gut. “It’s been a wonderful honeymoon. I have no complaints whatsoever.”
He rubbed her hip, considering. She looked downright edible, lying there with her dark hair in disarray on the pillow, the tops of her breasts peeking over the edge of the sheet, that sexy, thoroughly feminine smile shaping her lips.
“Okay, you talked me into it. Who needs food,” he growled, kissing her shoulder and neck hungrily. She broke into giggles and twisted away from him.
“No, no, you’re right. We should eat. We never did last night.”
He watched her getting up, disappointment swamping him when she picked up her nightgown from the floor and held it over her. Was he nuts for suggesting they get out of bed?
“Where are you going?” he asked, thoroughly bemused when Faith started to leave the room.
“To shower,” she said, turning so that he could see the lovely profile of her back and rear end.
“The shower is right there,” he said, scowling as he pointed to the bathroom adjoined to the bedroom.
“I have my own.”
He rose from the bed like there was a fire. Her green eyes widened as he approached her.
“We’ll shower together,” he said, brushing her soft hair behind her shoulder.
He saw her nostrils flare slightly as she glanced down over him. He paused, his fingers in her hair, when he saw a flicker of uncertainty cross her features. He sighed and lowered his hand.
“I haven’t seen that particular expression in over twenty-four hours now,” he said quietly.
“What expression?” she asked.
“The doubtful one.”
He saw her throat convulse as she swallowed.
“It’s...it’s not that, Ryan. I just need a little privacy, that’s all. I’m...I’m not used to showering with anyone,” she said awkwardly.
He sighed, hating to see her discomfort.
“I understand,” he said. He kissed her quickly and urged her toward the door with a hand on her shoulder. “Hurry up getting ready, though. I want to show off my new wife.”
She gave him a furtive glance over her shoulder and witnessed him admiring her backside. She threw him a repressive glance, hiding a smile.
He chuckled as she scurried out of the room, trying to ignore the disappointment he experienced at her going. Patience was what was required.
Winning Faith’s trust would be a process, not a decisive battle.
* * *
They’d been blessed with a day that was every bit as glorious as their wedding day. They sat outside on the patio at Boatwerks on the edge of Lake Macatawa. Ryan attacked his Boatwerks biscuits with gusto. Faith watched him for a moment, grinning.
“You really are making me feel guilty now for keeping you in bed,” she said.
He wiggled his eyebrows salaciously and forked up more fresh biscuit, sausage and poached egg. “A hard-working man has a big appetite.”
Hard-loving man, she thought to herself. He grinned as if he’d read her thought and she laughed. She’d never seen him so playful, so carefree. It was a little addictive. Ryan was typically so hard, so...strong. She couldn’t think of how else to describe him. He was rarely impassive with her, of course, bu
t generally he exuded a steely, deliberate sort of male strength. He was the kind of man other men trusted immediately. If it weren’t for the fact that he also possessed a potent sex appeal without even trying, Faith would have found him just as easy to trust.
She blinked when she recognized her thought. Was she really going to hold it against him because he was so good-looking and appealing to the opposite sex? That seemed blatantly unfair—
“Are you going to eat?” Ryan asked, looking puzzled. Faith realized she’d paused with her fork hovering over her vegetable and cheese omelet.
“Oh, yes,” she said, banishing her worries to the periphery of her consciousness.
After they’d eaten and paid the bill, they walked out onto the dock, breathing the fresh air off the lake and holding hands.
“I like that place,” Ryan said, referring to Boatwerks. “Reminds me of the places I used to eat with my family when I was a kid.”
They came to a stop at the end of the dock. “It must have been wonderful for you and Mari to spend the whole summer in Harbor Town.”
“Yeah. Those summers went on for an eternity,” Ryan murmured, looking lost in memory as he stared out at the lake. He gave her a sideways glance. “Or it seemed like they would at the time.”
“That’s one of the many wonderful things about children,” Faith said. “A moment can stretch into eternity. I remember thinking that, growing up here in Holland,” she said, nodding toward the lake, which was really a swollen, drowned river that stretched like a finger inland from the massive great lake.
Ryan nodded thoughtfully. “You were right. This part of Michigan really is ideal for raising a child.” He squeezed her hand and she looked up at him. His short bangs flickered on his forehead in the soft breeze. He hadn’t shaved this morning; his jaw was sexily shadowed by a scruff. His gaze on her was warm as he turned toward her, their middles brushing together.
“Thanks for bringing it back for me, how special it is here. After the accident all my great memories must have...receded into the background. They’re still there. They didn’t really disappear,” he said, his gaze on the horizon as if he was seeing something Faith couldn’t. He suddenly lowered his head to hers. A devilish smile tilted his lips. “When summer gets here, I’m going to take you to all my favorite beaches.”
