Hell, before she’d gotten sick, in that moment of nearly unbearable sexual desire, she’d invited Leif into her bed. Did she want to repeat the pattern with him, or break that promise of independence?
Yet she’d been the one to suggest they help each other heal, and at the time she’d meant every word. She missed the closeness of making love with a man, believed it would be good for her and the baby, too. The truth was hard to take, and lying in bed for days had forced her to think through things. Being near Leif, the different way he made her feel, honored and cherished even, she’d realized the spark had died between her and Lawrence long before she’d gotten pregnant. What could she expect from accepting his offer—just you and me and the world of art? His underwhelming response when she’d told him about the baby had dashed out the final embers. There was no room in his life or heart for a child. Which meant there was no longer room for Marta, either.
Seeing Leif at his best, an open, giving and tender man, had sharpened the contrast. As she looked back with a clear eye, she could see Lawrence had maintained a cushion of distance for five years and had subtly made it known who had the power. As far as she was concerned the only thing the men had in common was the first letter of their names.
As her strength returned, so did her resolve to think of Leif as a transition. He was her now, not her future. She could and would deal with that. Besides, she couldn’t expect any man to accept another man’s baby before it was even born, could she? Hell, the baby’s own father couldn’t. Leif said he did, after saying he didn’t. That left just enough doubt to keep her guessing. And she couldn’t live or think like that anymore. She had a bigger job to do—being a future mother.
No, she and Leif would have whatever they had while she was here, and that would be it. She couldn’t hope for more, even though, when she was completely honest, she did want more than that. I get it now, Momma. Okay? But when? And with who?
Ack, maybe she’d take just this one last day to rest and straighten out her thoughts. Because from where she lay, everything that had seemed so logical and sophisticated before she’d gotten ill—just for now—was suddenly a jumbled-up mess and a gamble with her heart she wasn’t sure she could or should take.
Leif had stayed home from work on her account, so at the end of the day she put on her long, flowing lounge dress, the same one she’d worn the other night. She noticed she’d lost a little weight, so she tightened the belt around her waist. Before she left her room, she threw on a golden-threaded slate-colored shawl and some gold sandals and headed downstairs for her first dinner out of bed in days.
“Something smells fantastic,” she said, entering the kitchen.
Leif turned his head while stirring a pot of bubbling water. “Someone looks fantastic, too. You’d never know you’d been sick.”
“You lie, but thank you anyway.”
“You don’t believe me? Come here.”
She stepped closer and he put his hand on her waist, pulled her near, looked her straight in the eyes with a mischievous gaze and kissed her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, returning his affection, she marveled over this changed man and how natural they felt together. Even knowing him for such a short time, she felt completely comfortable in his embrace. As if they belonged together. With all the confidence in the world he kissed her lips, her neck, took her hair into his hand and lightly tugged on it. When the kiss ended, he made a soft sound in his throat; she was covered with tingly bumps and he had fire in his eyes. And her resolve about “just for now” had definitely melted into “maybe something more.”
The boiling water frothed and splashed over the top of the pot, taking his immediate attention. With a wooden spoon he fished out one piece of corkscrew-shaped pasta, blew on it, then tossed it into his mouth, eyes wide from the heat.
Blowing out while chewing, he grinned. “Al dente. Perfect.”
Her hands flew to her mouth in a prayer pose while she lightly laughed. Such a silly and fun man, not afraid to be himself for fear of coming off uncool or out of control…unlike Lawrence.
“You like beef stroganoff?”
“Love it.”
“You and the baby need the protein, and you can use the calories. Want to grab those rolls for me?”
She followed his orders and put the basket of bread on the already set table while he dished out the noodles and covered them with stroganoff sauce. Her mouth watered—another positive sign the curse of the flu had passed.
With Marta and Leif both being ravenous, dinner became a series of contented sounds and food-lover faces, plus occasional glances that imparted so much more. Two people who knew how to enjoy food. Could it be a metaphor for enjoying sex together? They’d definitely reached a new level of closeness since she’d had the nerve to invite him into her bed, and it was obvious he wanted to take her up on it—though he’d chickened out originally. Then she’d gotten ill and had allowed Leif to care for her, and she couldn’t run or hide from him. Only one thing more was needed between them: complete intimacy. She’d felt bold and worldly when she’d called Leif a hermit and dangled the carrot of making love before him. Now? Considering everything they’d built between them, like friendship and trust, making love with Leif would change that, and that bold and worldly part…she wasn’t feeling so much anymore.
When dinner was finished, together they carried the dishes to the sink. As she turned on the water to rinse them, his hand joined hers under the stream, testing the temperature. As their fingers touched, her temperature definitely went up.
“I’ll get this,” he said.
“I want to help.”
He reached behind, then handed her a towel, gently drying her fingers first. Their gazes connected for a second and a tiny bubble of adrenaline popped in her chest. “You can dry.”
She stood too close when he turned to hand her the first plate and their shoulders bumped. “Oh, excuse me,” she said.
He gave a quick peck to her cheek. “I forgive you, but what for?”
His ice-blue eyes melted any doubt she’d allowed to build up tonight. And if her sudden willingness to be with him wasn’t proof enough, her charging pulse was the final clue.
She found the only remaining forks on the counter and put them into the sudsy water, his hand quickly finding hers in the water, running his thumb over her knuckles. “So how are you feeling?”
Pretty damn fine. He obviously waited for a sign, and here was the kicker—Ms. Bold and Modern suddenly felt nervous. Leif wasn’t like any man she’d been with before. He didn’t play games or need to prove anything or flaunt his position of power. Wasn’t he the richest man in Heartlandia? Couldn’t prove it by her.
His strength, character and sense of permanence rattled her to the core.
“I’m all better.” Her voice sounded softer than usual, tentative even. What was coming over her? Momma, don’t mess with me now. Please.
To distract herself from the odd insecure reaction, she got busy opening a cupboard, ready to put some dishes away, but he stopped her. She shifted her glance to his. He shook his head. Not now. Then he dried his hands and turned off the water, took her by the palm and led her toward the stairs.
Mute, she followed, out-of-the-blue jitters budding in her center. Where had her worldly woman confidence gone? The thought of being with Leif had made her blood run hot, yet now the reality of it threw her off balance. Theirs could never be a fling, and that was all she’d been used to with men. What would it be like to find that “once in a lifetime” love her father always talked about? Her head spun with the thoughts as Leif guided her toward the stairs.
Was she ready to throw away this chance to know Leif in the truest sense because of imperfect circumstances?
Chip and Dale eagerly romped up the steps with them but Leif sent the dogs away. Obeying their master, sensing he had something planned that didn’t involve them, the dogs lowered their heads and tromped off to their downstairs beds.
When Leif and Marta reached the top of
the stairs, his hand tugging her to the right instead of left, she let doubt creep back in full force. Leif was completely different from the man who’d let her down, but the current situation of being dependent on him rang too familiar. Though she’d agreed to a business arrangement, it smacked of power and dependence, one over the other, a subtle but steady struggle that she couldn’t quite get a grip on. The circumstances were too similar; she was supposed to learn from her mistakes. She stopped.
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all,” she said, nowhere near convincing herself, yet edging her hand from his until only their fingertips touched.
He looked at her with a probing gaze, as if asking, “Now who is afraid?” Then, calling her out, he gave the most confident smile she’d ever seen.
“Like hell it isn’t,” he said, sweeping her up and carrying her toward his bedroom.
Chapter Seven
Marta sank into Leif’s powerful arms as he carried her to the bedroom. He used his foot to open the door and she soon realized he’d planned this seduction well in advance. The fragrance of musk disguised in sandalwood from scented candles permeated the atmosphere of the room, which looked damned sexy with the turned-down covers and shiny sheets. The bed faced French doors covered only by sheers. Dusk provided enough light to see his face, rugged and craggy from hard outdoor labor and sexy, so, so sexy. His was the face that had quickly become her measure for handsomeness against all other men.
Tingling sensations began coiling through the soles of her feet to the insides of her thighs and upward. Her breath slipped out of sync as she gazed up at Leif and anticipated making love with him for the first time.
He dropped her feet lightly to the floor, pulled her close and, holding her face, kissed her gently, arousing a stronger reaction than any hot, wet and wild kiss would. His timing was perfect. Start slow, build from there, though she sensed his overwhelming struggle to contain himself. It taunted and energized her and, because her hands were free, she began fumbling and thrashing away at the buttons on his shirt.
The kisses deepened, their sounds luscious and hungry, nearly torturing her. The deep coiling throughout her body turned warm and itchy as she matched his probing tongue. Woozy from the heightening need, she held on to the shirt fabric as his hands gripped her shoulders, then skimmed her upper body, feeling her every curve, releasing chills along her skin. She stripped him of his shirt and ran her palms over his muscular chest and flat stomach. The feel of his skin, surprisingly smooth, nearly sent sparks up her arms.
Obviously wanting her naked, he pulled the skirt of her dress all the way from the floor to over her head in record time. That left her glad she’d worn her favorite lacy peach-colored underwear, though the small baby bump made her feel a twinge of self-consciousness.
His urgent gaze scanned her head to toe but soon settled on her chest, passion and longing so obvious any insecurity disappeared and her nipples pebbled beneath the lace. Had she ever felt so needed before? She stepped forward and he unlatched the front clasp of the bra, the weight of her breasts released and free to the cool evening air. With his face expressing amazement and desire, first one hand explored her tender skin, then the other, lifting, caressing, lightly passing a thumb over the sensitive tips. A faint admiring curse escaped his lips. He bent forward and kissed first one then the other breast, inhaling her scent while the beauty of his touch rolled through her. Cradling his head, she kissed the crown of his hair, surprised by the softness, then leaned forward and nuzzled his ear and neck, his shower-fresh scent similar to the candles. On a deep inhale he rose and pulled her close to his chest, flesh to flesh, heat fanning from every point of contact, his mouth devouring her neck, earlobe and jaw. Then, placing a palm on each of her hips, in a hungry move he pulled her closer, and she found the strong erection beneath his jeans. Nothing short of electricity arced between them as they caressed and explored each other.
He lifted her again and placed her on the cold, silky sheets. On her elbow, she waited to welcome him as he dived next to her.
“Hold on,” she said, unzipping his jeans.
He flashed a quick look of chagrin, then gladly let her do the honor. The man’s neon green underwear both surprised and delighted her when she got on her knees and pulled the jeans off from the leg cuffs. The boxer briefs fit snug over those thickly muscled thighs and outlined his erection. The sight of him crashing through her.
Her breath caught. So gorgeous. How could he live like a hermit when women probably had been beating down his door? He didn’t give her near enough time to enjoy the view as he tugged her up by the waist and lightly tossed her onto her back. She laughed, then got serious, watching as the urgency shifted gears while he removed her lacy thong as though unwrapping a delicate package. Then, much quicker, he removed his own underwear, freeing that full erection. The vision branded her brain. She wanted him. Without a doubt.
She reached for his thighs, ran her hand along the powerful muscles and took him into her grip, skimming the silky skin over solid strength, her thumb pressing over the head.
Would she ever forget this moment?
Then all her thoughts left as he shifted and took her into his arms. Starting at her head and mouth, then covering all points south, he fought his own need, solely concentrating on her, thoroughly and desperately making love to her body. Wanting nothing more than to please her.
Her breath ragged, her skin burning with desire long before he was finished showing her how he needed her, she bucked beneath him, ready, so, so ready for him. Snapping out of his enthralled sexual haze, he got down to the business of sheathing himself from the tiny package he’d removed from his bedside drawer. Quickly back on task, little by little he entered her, and more quiet oaths and prayers tumbled out of his lips.
Soon molding to each other, closer than seemed humanly possible, they rocked together, finding the rhythm that was exclusively theirs. Discovering what worked and what drove the other crazy. Marta felt as starved for this moment as Leif must have been, as she followed his demanding pace, nearly burning up the sheets beneath her one moment, then slowing to draw out the exquisite pleasure the next.
Rolling on top, she took control, loving the sublime expression on his face when she did. His verbal outbursts as she frantically made love to him prodded her on. She wanted to drive him wild and, from the tense muscles and desperate expression on his face, she was. Every nerve ending in her body vibrated with the energy buzzing through her because of him.
His jaw clenched and he grabbed her hips, holding her firm against him as he, amazingly, increased the speed, spiraling the tension, whisking her to the edge of release and dangling her there. Her elbows gave out, landing her face to his neck, and she tasted the salt of the sweat they’d worked up together. Willing herself back up, gasping for air, she bucked on top as he pounded into her and kept her suspended so close to heaven she could barely breathe. After what seemed like blissful eternity, he set off an implosion at her center so intense, she moaned and cried out and, unable to hold herself up another second, she collapsed onto his chest again. The orgasm rolled through every cell in her body, drenching her. He rode out the waves of her release, extending them on and on, and only when she’d finished, he finally let himself come.
Several seconds later, still breathing rough and ragged, she could hardly get the words out. “You’re amazing.”
He panted, too. “We’re amazing.”
Now realizing what she would have missed if she’d let her better judgment take over, she thanked whatever wisdom had stopped her from backing out of making love with him. Grateful Leif hadn’t let her. He was a sexual force to be reckoned with, a man who had a lot of lost time to make up for, and she was the exceptionally lucky woman he wanted to be with.
For now.
*
The citywide vote had taken place on Wednesday and today, Friday, the results were going to be revealed. The meeting was set for 10:00 a.m. at the college auditorium. Leif swung by the mural
to pick up Marta on his way over.
He hadn’t seen the mural in a couple of weeks since they’d steered clear of each other for part of it, then he’d gotten super busy with new projects after that. But each day he arrived home eager to see her, and from the usual welcome he got, the feeling was mutual.
“Wow, you’re really clipping along, aren’t you?” He squinted, the autumn sun bright and assaulting, yet the vivid colors on the college wall stood out, one lively scene transitioning into another. He spotted a perfect rendition of the Ringmuren and a growing city in the distance in her latest panel, and the Heritage Hotel and the town monument sketched out in the next. She had to be halfway through already. His chest tightened at the prospect of what that meant.
From atop a ladder, Marta put the finishing touch on one of the pine trees in the forest on Hjartalanda Peak. “Hi!” She turned, removed her painting respirator mask, her face beaming. “Yeah, so what do you think?”
“It looks fantastic.” And so did she. Even in overalls and a plain white T-shirt, both splattered with paint, with her hair pulled back and covered in a large scarf and not wearing a stitch of makeup, she looked fantastic. Even wearing that mask she looked great. The woman who’d been keeping him and his bed warm for the past week had quickly become the object of his undivided attention. Sometimes when his guard was down, like right now, the thought squeezed the breath out of him. And it reminded him of how he’d first felt about Ellen when she’d finally started dating him. “I didn’t realize how fast you painted.”
“Preplanning does that for you. Plus I’ve had a lot of help from Desi and the crew. All I have to worry about is painting my scenes since they take care of everything else. It’s been great.”
He glanced down the wall to the two students applying the protective varnish to the finished sections. The viselike pressure around his chest tightened. Everything was moving too fast.
Falling for the Mom-to-Be Page 10
