Pride and Pregnancy

by Sarah M. Anderson

  “Is it, now?” She dug her fingers into his hair, tilting his head back so the water sluiced over him. “I don’t recall you mentioning your fantasies. Just mine.” It felt dangerous to tease him like this, but God help her, it felt right, too. Somehow, she knew she was safe with him.

  “Caroline,” he groaned. He flipped her around—and none too gently, either. “I can’t wait—I have to have you right now.” He nudged her legs apart with his knee and tilted her bottom up. “Okay?”

  “Yes,” she hissed, arching her back to give him better access.

  He was against her and then he thrust inside her in one smooth movement, filling her so effortlessly that she almost screamed from the pleasure of it. But she just managed to keep her noises restrained.

  The he wound her hair around his fist and pulled her head back. “You have no idea,” he whispered in her ear, his voice hoarse, “no idea how much I love hearing you scream.” As he spoke, his other hand reached around and took possession of her breast, his fingers expertly finding her nipple and tormenting it mercilessly.

  Caroline shimmered as she surrendered to the sensations. Her body adjusted to his and then he began to thrust, long, measured strokes timed with his fingers tugging on her nipple, his hand pulling gently but steadily on her hair and his mouth, his teeth on her neck and shoulders.

  This weekend had been intense, a fantasy played out in real time. But this? She flattened her hands against the wall and gave herself up to him completely.

  “Scream for me, Caroline,” he whispered in her ear, his voice desperate, his hands on her body as he drove into her again and again.

  It was all she could do, the only gift she could give him. And she gave it freely. “Tom—Tom!”

  He growled and sank into her. Caroline’s world exploded around her in a shimmering white light. Seconds later, Tom relinquished his hold on her hair and breast and dug his hands into her hips. He slammed into her with a ferocity that she knew she’d never find in another man. A second climax had her screaming his name again as he froze, her name a groan of pleasure on his lips.

  They sagged against each other, the wall holding them up. Without warning, Caroline began to laugh. It came from deep inside—a release that she hadn’t known she’d needed.

  Tom spun her in his arms and tilted her head back. “Okay?” he asked, an amused smirk on his lips.

  She was laughing so hard tears ran down her face. All these years and this was what she’d been chasing. She’d had a bunch of mediocre sex and occasionally some good sex, all because it was careful. Safe. But this?

  She’d always known something was missing. And all it took was one cryptic FBI agent with an overprotective streak and the fantasies she’d nurtured quietly for years to show her how much she’d settled for.

  And the hell of it was, she’d known. From the first moment she’d caught him staring at her across the courtroom, so caught up in her that he forgot to be seated—she’d known he was something special.

  “I’ve never been better,” she said when she finally had herself under control as she pulled him back into her arms. “Never.”

  “Good,” he said against her lips. “Because I have a few more fantasies I want to try out.”

  She tried to look coy, which was something of a challenge, given that they were naked underneath a stream of water. “Don’t we have to go to some gala?”

  He cupped her face in his hands. “I’m not talking about just tonight, Caroline.”

  The full meaning of his words hit her. Dating. A relationship, even. “Oh.”

  His grin was wolfish. How could a man look so hungry when he’d just been sated so spectacularly?

  “Let’s get through tonight,” he told her. “Then...”

  “Right. Tonight.” She had to put on a gown and what were probably real jewels and hobnob with heiresses and power brokers.

  What else did he have in store for her?

  * * *

  She tried on the black dress, but, as expected, she couldn’t wear either her serviceable beige bra or the silky strapless pink one Celine had provided. She decided to go with the plum gown. The color was deep and rich, not quite purple and not quite maroon. It wasn’t bright enough that she’d stand out in a crowd, but it wasn’t black, either.

  Although the floor-length dress was sleeveless, it had two little straps that met at the center of the neckline, a V nestled between her breasts that provided just enough support that she wouldn’t spend the evening tugging at the top. She paired it with a cuff bracelet that she hoped like hell was covered in rhinestones and not real diamonds. Along with that went sparkly chandelier earrings. She chose the kitten-heeled silver sandals.

  She managed to get the dress zipped on her own and then turned to look at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the closet door. What she saw stunned her—was that really her?

  Because the woman looking back at her was glamorous—gorgeous, even. That woman bore only a passing resemblance to Caroline.

  Maybe she could do this—waltz into this world of power and wealth, and if not fit in, at least fake it for an evening.

  “Caroline? We need to leave,” Tom called out from the living room.

  “Have you heard anything about Maggie?” she yelled back, touching up her lipstick. Not that her lipstick needed to be touched up. It was possible she was stalling.

  None of this seemed real. The clothes, the jewelry, being in a DC hotel room with Tom—she was afraid to break the strange spell he’d cast over her.

  “They managed to get the contractions stopped and everything is stabilized. They’re still keeping her another night, but better safe than sorry at this point.”

  “Good. I’m glad to hear it.” It was obvious Maggie was important to him, but more than that, Caroline didn’t wish pregnancy complications on anyone.

  Finally, she couldn’t stall any longer. She wanted to make a good impression on his...were they still his in-laws? Former in-laws? She didn’t know, but she did know it was bad form to keep them waiting.

  She took a deep breath and opened the door. “How do I look?”

  Tom looked up, and his mouth fell open. Then he dropped his phone and came to his feet.

  Her pulse began to beat hard as he took in everything—and as she stared at him in return. Good Lord, he was wearing a tuxedo. Which shouldn’t have been a surprise—she’d seen him unpack it, after all. And this was obviously the sort of event where tuxedos were de rigueur.

  But the way the tuxedo fit him? Sweet merciful heavens. It was like a tall, dark, handsome James Bond had just walked off the screen and into her hotel room. Tom made a suit look amazing, a pair of jeans even better.

  But Tom in a tux was something else entirely. Her nipples went rock hard at the sight, and suddenly, the dress seemed a half size too small.

  As if she wasn’t nervous enough, a creeping sense of doubt moved up her back. She’d pushed it aside earlier, in the shower. But now reality reared its head.

  Tom was still staring, that unmistakable hunger in his eyes. There were so many things she didn’t know about him. She knew he’d loved his wife, but had he moved on from her death?

  This was not her world. It had been Stephanie’s world, and Caroline knew that she could never compete.

  He still hadn’t said anything yet. She looked down at the dress and shot him a nervous smile. “Is this okay?” She did a little turn so he had full view of the dress in the back.

  When she got turned around again, he was giving her such a hard look she recoiled back a step. “Tom? Is it all right?”

  “Good,” he said, his voice tight.

  She began to panic. She’d thought this gown was the best option, but maybe it didn’t make her look as glamorous as she’d thought. “I’ve never been to a gala benefit for a foundation befor
e. There were other dresses...”

  “No,” he cut her off. “That one’s perfect. You look amazing.”

  She blinked at him. “Was that a compliment?”

  The look of confusion on his face almost undid her right then and there. “Was it?”

  This man. “No, the correct answer is, of course it was.”

  She gave him a long look and she’d swear the room brightened when the lightbulb went off over his head. “Of course it was. You look amazing, Caroline.”

  Even though she’d had to walk him up to the words, the sincerity in his voice made her cheeks warm. “Okay, good. Everything else can be returned—except for the makeup and...” She looked down at the dress. She didn’t want to discuss the lingerie with him right now. That seemed like a bad idea because they had to be someplace very soon and she suspected that, if she brought panties into the discussion, she’d find herself removing them within seconds. “Everything I’m wearing right now. It’s far too much money for me to casually accept the rest as a gift. I don’t want to create the appearance of impropriety.”

  His eyes crinkled, and she got the feeling he was trying not to laugh at her, because there was nothing proper about any of this, appearances or otherwise, and they both knew it.

  “Caroline,” he said and suddenly he was looking at her with undisguised hunger, his voice the sound of sex on the wind, “try not to think like a lawyer tonight, all right? This is a date, not a court hearing. You look amazing.”

  She was many things—intelligent, competent, dedicated—but so very rarely was she desirable. Or glamorous. And right now, she was both.

  She was keeping this dress.

  * * *

  He was the most dangerous man she had ever met. Not because he had the capacity to be deadly or because he filled out that tuxedo.

  It was because of the way he made her feel. Glamorous and desirable—those were terrifying emotions. They made her do unpredictable things, like skip work and crash a gala. Worse, she was afraid of what would happen if they were combined with other emotions—tenderness, affection and who could forget sexual satisfaction? All those things swirled around inside her until they formed a superstorm of something that felt much stronger than infatuation, more potentially damaging than a hurricane.

  She had once fancied herself in love. With Robby, of course. Looking back now, she couldn’t remember what, exactly, she had loved about him. She didn’t recall him being a particularly good student, nor was he exceptionally kind to small animals. He was just...there. He’d liked her, for whatever reason. She’d been young. Being liked was half the battle.

  She liked to think she wasn’t stupid anymore. And she definitely wasn’t young.

  So this wouldn’t be the same thing she’d had with Robby. She was older and wiser. Tom had hinted that they’d have something more after this weekend—but there was no law that it had to be marriage. They could keep doing this—having a consensual, satisfying relationship that didn’t involve messy emotions or the potential for heartache. She should keep some distance between them and cling to the safety it provided.

  Yes, that’s what she should do. But what she did instead was sashay toward him, her hips swaying seductively. “Tom...”

  He looked at her with such longing that she wondered how late they could be. But then he said, “We should go.”

  She wasn’t disappointed at that. Not even a little. “We should.”

  But after this little gala, they were coming back here. And in the morning, she wasn’t leaving until she’d found out how far he was willing to take this.

  Eleven

  “Nervous?”

  Caroline rolled her eyes at Tom. “No, why would I be nervous? I’m just wearing a gown and accessories worth thousands of dollars, after riding in a limo far nicer than the one I took to high school prom, next to an armed man wearing a tuxedo, on my way to meet your former in-laws, who happen to be insanely wealthy and also powerful, all while attending a gala benefit filled with the elite in honor of your late wife. Why would I be nervous?”

  The corner of his mouth ticked up, but he didn’t smile. He couldn’t, not with her on his arm as they made their way into the crush of the annual Rutherford Foundation Gala Benefit and Ball. When she’d walked out of the bedroom in that dress, the fabric clinging to her every curve, he’d been stunned past the point of coherence, physically shaking with the effort it took to restrain himself from mussing up her hair and peeling that dress from her body.

  He hadn’t, because Mark and Celine Rutherford were waiting on them. He had to keep up appearances.

  He freakin’ hated appearances.

  He didn’t get nervous anymore—but at times like these, he couldn’t help flashing back to the first time Carlson had dragged him along to one of these events. Or the second time. Hell, even the tenth time, he’d still been painfully aware that he didn’t belong. It’d gotten better after he’d married Stephanie, but...

  But Stephanie, God rest her soul, wasn’t on his arm. He didn’t have her social graces smoothing the way and making sure he fit in.

  Instead, Caroline was with him.

  And there was no turning back.

  He remembered how, the first few times they’d attended a function together, Stephanie had kept up a steady stream of survival tips, designed to put him at ease. So he did the same for Caroline. “It’s open bar. But I’d recommend going easy on champagne.”

  “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to avoid making a complete and total fool of myself in front of—how many members of Congress will be here?”

  “Probably no more than thirty. Or did you want to include former senators and congressmen?”

  She stumbled, but he steadied her. Once she had her balance back, she whispered, “I can’t tell if you’re being serious or if you’re teasing.”

  He was definitely teasing her. “Don’t panic. There probably won’t be more than two Supreme Court justices in attendance.”

  She hit him with her clutch. Hard. “Later, I’m going to get even with you.”

  He damn near grabbed her and marched her right back out to the limo. They didn’t even have to make it to the hotel—the limo was big and had an abundance of flat surfaces. He’d wrinkle her dress with wild abandon before he peeled it right off her luscious body.

  But he didn’t. Instead, he kissed her hand, his lips warm against her knuckles. “Caroline.”

  She took a deep breath that did some very interesting things to her cleavage, but then she turned her gaze up to his face. Her eyes were so full of hope and affection that suddenly his own breath caught in his chest. “Yes?”

  Yeah, he’d been trying to convince himself he’d brought her here for noble reasons. But now? After he’d taken her in the shower? Moments before he introduced her to the Rutherfords?

  He realized how damn wrong he’d been. The case wasn’t the reason they were here. Her security wasn’t why she was wearing that gown, nor why he was about to introduce her to the Rutherfords.

  She was the reason. He hadn’t been able to put her in a hotel and forget about her. He hadn’t been able to leave her behind.

  He wasn’t sure he could.

  “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

  She gasped, a delicate blush on her cheeks, and he felt himself leaning toward her. The rest of the crowd fell away, and it was just him and her and this spark that had always existed between them.

  Just then, he heard, “Thomas!” The sound of Celine Rutherford’s voice snapped him out of his insanity.

  Celine swanned toward him, glamorous as usual in a lacy evening gown that managed to make her look at least twenty years younger than she actually was.

  “Celine,” he said, bending over to kiss her cheek. “You look lovelier than ever.”

  She did.
He braced himself for the pain of seeing her again but it didn’t come. Not in the almost overwhelming waves that usually left him dazed, anyway.

  A dull ache radiated from his chest, but it wasn’t as bad as it normally was. Manageable, even.

  “You sweet talker, you.” Celine beamed, playfully patting his arm.

  Tom grinned good-naturedly. “My apologies for being late. I always forget there’s traffic here.”

  She waved this away. “The important thing is that you’re here now. You look wonderful, Thomas.”

  Beside him, Tom was pretty sure he heard Caroline snort in what he hoped was amusement. And he knew why, too. No one called him Thomas for very long.

  Except for the Rutherfords. “Celine, may I present Judge Caroline Jennings? She’s my guest this evening.”

  Caroline stepped forward, looking starstruck. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Rutherford. I cannot thank you enough for going to all the trouble of pulling that wonderful selection of clothing for me. I hope this meets your specifications?” she asked in a rush, as if the dress Tom had not been able to stop staring at for the last forty minutes was a feed sack on her.

  Celine laughed, a light sound. “I think you made the right choice. You look marvelous, dear. That color suits you perfectly.”

  For years, seeing Celine Rutherford had been the most painful thing Tom had to survive. Stakeouts and violent criminals and occasional shoot-outs—he’d take those any day of the week compared to the mental torture of his annual visit to the Rutherfords. It was easier now, because Stephanie was forever fixed in his mind at twenty-seven years old and Celine got a little older and a little grander every year.

  But it still hurt. There was a small, selfish part of him that wished the Rutherfords weren’t so kind to him, that they could all let the relationship drift away and Tom wouldn’t have to face these memories on a regular basis.

  Normally, he would get through this evening by drinking more champagne than was healthy and finding a few other people from the FBI he could talk shop with.