The You I Want for Life

by Alison Kent

  He slowed then, drew a whistling breath between clenched teeth. “Eden. Stop. Christ, please stop.” The broken words rolled out on a growl. “Slow, baby, slow. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  But she was mindless now, coming undone, splintering with sharp, urgent need. “Don’t stop, Jace. Never stop.”

  She hooked her heels around his hips, pulled him forward again and again. His fingers gouged her backside and he held her still, sliding slow and deep, his body one coiled spring, his face a tortured mask of control.

  She wanted to set him free.

  She reached between their tangled limbs, finding the source of sensation, and created a fire of her own. Her fingers barely met around the base of his slick shaft, but she squeezed, drawing a ragged groan from his gut. She dipped lower, fondled the heaviness beneath. Jace cried out, increasing the tempo, firing the friction to a fevered pitch.

  “Don’t... want... to hurt you.”

  His harsh words snagged on her fractured heart.

  “Oh, man. Oh, man.” His legs strained as his body moved, sending her spiraling to the edge. Closer. Closer. Until she lost her hold and surrendered to pure sensation.

  Jace exploded with her, a guttural cry spilling from his throat. The force of his climax lifted them both from the bench. He buried his face in the crook of her neck.

  The moisture from his hair cooled her skin.

  The damp trail of his tears broke her heart.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I OWE YOU A HUGE APOLOGY.”

  Jace held Eden curled in the crook of his arm. The tub he’d installed in his loft was worthy of a Roman bathhouse—appropriate, considering the orgy to his senses he still hadn’t recovered from.

  “What could you possibly have to be sorry for?” Eden shifted on the middle of the three sunken steps. She leaned into him, her belly snug against his waist.

  The female anatomy just amazed him. He ran his hand over the curve of her stomach, and a ripple of motion stroked his palm in return. So white, so smooth, her flesh glowed against his own darker skin. “Protection. We didn’t. I didn’t. I should have. I’m sorry.”

  Water slapped and gurgled around his chest as Eden sat fully upright, dislodging his hand. He couldn’t decipher the look in her eye, so he shifted uneasily beside her.

  “Well, we certainly don’t have to worry about me getting pregnant.”

  “True. But that’s not all protection’s about.”

  “When was the last time you were with a woman, Jace?”

  “Hmm. Well... it’s been a while.” When her look insisted, he reluctantly added, “All right, all right. Not since before I moved here from Dallas.”

  A look of surprise flitted through her eyes before she shuttered her lashes down. He frowned. “You don’t believe me?”

  “Of course I believe you. It’s just hard to imagine, that’s all.”

  “What, that I can’t control my baser instincts?” The first stirrings of annoyance churned in his gut.

  She trailed the backs of her fingers down the center of his chest, to his torso, his navel, then stopped. “Control doesn’t even enter into this discussion.”

  She plucked at the line of hair arrowing down low on his belly. “You’re a very sexy man, Jace Morgan. A very sexual man. I just don’t see you doing without.”

  Stark honesty replaced annoyance. “Sex hasn’t been an issue with me for a very long time.”

  A light blush pinkened her cheeks, so out of character for the woman who’d just blown his socks off.

  “Don’t you get... frustrated?”

  He smiled at her candor and the fact that her fingers had drifted lower. “Sure, the same as any healthy adult.”

  “So what do you do about it?”

  Lifting a brow and wondering how much honesty Eden could take, Jace finally shrugged. “I ... take care of it. Or I work it off.”

  “The weight bench?”

  “Or an ax and a log. Maybe a band saw. Or a plane. The small jobs sap me mentally. When my brain shuts down, my body seems to do the same.” He budged up a bit, helping her fingers along on a quest that was taking entirely too long.

  Eden’s sigh drifted over his skin like the barest breeze. “Three years is a long time to go it alone.”

  Elbows propped on the stair above where Eden reclined, Jace sat on the one below. Their matched breathing and the slurp and slosh of water made the only sound in the room.

  As silences went, this one was suddenly too depressing. He leaned out and flipped on the Jacuzzi.

  The motor droned and the jet of bubbles sent awareness skating over his skin. Or maybe it was Eden’s foot skimming the length of his lower leg that was heating the heated water.

  Either would work, as long as he didn’t have to think about tomorrow. About the fact that this had probably been a mistake. About how two people with the type of intimate knowledge he and Eden shared were supposed to go back to being just friends.

  Which they’d have to do. Because they certainly had no future. How could they when she wasn’t certain about the life she wanted?

  “I saw the wall, Jace. The pictures hanging there. They’re very elegantly framed. And evenly spaced. Did you realize they’re hanging in three exact rows of six?”

  He heaved a thought-filled sigh. And now, of course, she was gonna want to talk about it. “Not only do I design, I decorate.”

  She took a deep breath, raised her chin and glanced at the ceiling, then back down at her hand on his stomach, her foot on his leg.

  And Jace just rolled his eyes and waited for it.

  “How can you be satisfied hanging kitchen cabinets? Building shelves and rocking chairs? Running electrical wires for dances you don’t want to attend?”

  He shrugged. “I like what I do. I like my life.”

  “This isn’t your life.” She slapped the water, splashing his face. “Your life is on that wall.”

  Irritation boiled through him and Jace jabbed an equally exasperated finger in the air. “What’s on that wall are pieces of paper covered with pencil scratches. My life is downstairs in the shop.”

  “Fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back. Three minutes later, she came back with, “Did you design this bath?”

  He knew it. She wasn’t going to let it go. Give him two dogs and one bone any day over tenacious Eden Karr.

  “No. I stole it from one of the designers who worked in the same firm I used to. Figured I’d make some good use of the space up here.”

  “Or so you say.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I know you better than that, Jace Morgan. You built this hedonistic, decadent bath because you couldn’t stand not having a visual, life-size reminder of what you were born to do. What you love to do.”

  Jace puffed up his cheeks and blew out a gust of air. He didn’t want to fight. He didn’t want to argue. He didn’t want to admit to himself how right she was.

  So he scooped her up caveman style and settled her across his lap. “Why do we have to get into this now?”

  “Into what?” she asked, playing the innocent as effectively as she’d played the wanton. What he didn’t like was her playing analyst. Or not thinking he had the smarts to catch on.

  “You knew who I was when you came here tonight, Eden. And I hope you didn’t come here thinking that you can change me.”

  The fact that she tried to hide her face in her shoulder was a dead giveaway. “You’re not my therapist, Eden. What you are is my lover.”

  “For now, yes. But what about tomorrow? What about ten tomorrows from now?”

  He kissed her. “I can’t tell you squat about ten tomorrows from now. Ten tomorrows from now you might be living the rat race back in New York.”

  She pushed against his shoulders, leaning back. “So this is all that matters to you? Here and now?”

  Resignation followed sadness through her eyes, the lifeless green a shade he’d never seen. What he saw in her ey
es—the hopelessness, the surrender— ate away at the tenuous hold he had on the present.

  And it scared him.

  Didn’t she know he couldn’t even think about a future, no matter how much he might wish it? That he wouldn’t want a long-distance relationship if she returned to New York, and that he sure wasn’t going to follow her there should she go?

  She caressed his jaw, spread her thumb across his spiky lashes. “What happened to taking chances?”

  Not tonight. No more tonight. He already felt like he’d been flayed and his skin sandpapered on the inside. Ecstasy had left him as raw emotionally as physically.

  He couldn’t think of tonight as a beginning. He refused to think of tonight as a beginning. It was only one night, one time. “Please, Eden. Give me tonight.”

  A tender smile graced her lips and she swiped the moisture from her eyes. Pushing him back in a prone position, she climbed aboard, bracing her hands on either side of his head as she held tight to the edge of the tub.

  The water buoyed her body. As warm as the water was, it didn’t compare to her inner heat; as wet as it was, it didn’t match her moisture. He’d be lucky to last ten minutes.

  Make that five, he silently amended, giving himself up.

  She moved against him, rubbing, grinding, riding high, then sliding low. He kissed whatever skin he could reach and floated beneath her, caught between the pull of her body and the need to drive deep, touching softly, not touching at all.

  He was drunk with wanting her. His hands hovered over her body, the water lapping in erotic waves, kissing places he wanted to kiss, licking intimately at her skin.

  Being buried within her wasn’t enough. He wanted to open her fully and crawl inside. Wrap himself up and pretend that, tomorrow, this would be enough.

  She leaned forward, nipped at his skin, her impatience rising with his. He shifted slightly, his feet finding support on the lowest step. Knees bent, he thrust upward.

  Then his surging slowed in speed and became grace and power. He answered her cries with his body.

  Her contractions ripped him, shredded him with pleasure, and he spilled into her once again, wishing he could give her more than this fleeting bit of himself, wishing he could give her all his tomorrows.

  JACE REACHED FOR HER in the middle of the night. Exhausted and almost dry, they’d finally made it to bed, though the futon wasn’t quite the bed he’d imagined sharing with her.

  And while she slept, he kissed her, loving her with tender strokes of his tongue, sharper tugs of his lips.

  He curled around her, lying awake long past the time her breathing evened and slowed. He spent that time with her babies, feeling them kick and shove and punch her too-tight skin.

  And he prayed she didn’t hear him when he whispered, “I wish I’d known you before, Eden. I wish these babies were mine.”

  WHEN HE WOKE IN THE morning, she was gone.

  Chapter Nineteen

  EDEN GLANCED AT THE clock on the wall one more time and groaned, the sound loud enough for the eight customers milling The Fig Leaf to hear. Of course, none of them did.

  They were too wrapped up in their shopping to realize that the shop closed in ten minutes. At least on Sundays, she didn’t open until noon and had the luxury of closing early at four. The way she was feeling today, she never would’ve lasted her usual nine to six.

  She was exhausted and emotionally empty, another fact no one around her seemed to have picked up on. Which was probably a good thing. If she looked half as bad as she felt, no one would have dared to venture inside. Which probably wasn’t a good thing at all.

  For as badly as she wanted to usher everyone out, crawl upstairs and into bed, she knew she’d made enough money today to make up for a week’s worth of slow days down the road. And right now that mattered more than anything.

  Even so, all she’d managed to do was stay balanced on her stool, speak the appropriate words at the appropriate times, hopefully make correct change, and lift a pencil when somebody asked for a receipt.

  What kind of craziness had come over her last night? Why had she kidded herself about the reason she’d gone to his barn? So far, she’d prided herself on her handling of the major changes in her life. So when had her relationship with Jace become so unmanageable?

  Try when she fell in love.

  And that had happened... when? When she’d danced with him under The Emporium’s spreading oak? When she’d come apart in his arms that night in the truck? How about when he’d replaced the chime above her door? Or when he’d helped her down off her kitchen counter?

  No. If there was one single moment that was a turning point in her life, it was the first moment she’d seen him, when he’d picked up that baby blanket and torn apart her image of what made a man a man.

  An image sealed when he’d stroked her in the middle of the night and wished he’d created her babies with his love.

  “Excuse me, ma’am?”

  Eden blinked twice before focusing on the woman standing at the counter.

  “There’s no price on this blanket. Could you tell me what you’re asking for it?” She handed Jace’s blanket across the counter.

  As evenly as she could manage, Eden reached out to close trembling fingers around the delicately woven threads. She clutched the blanket to her chest; her throat swelled shut and her emotional stamina dissolved.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “This blanket isn’t for sale. Perhaps I can help you select another.”

  The woman lifted both shoulders, her pinched mouth a grimace as she sighed. “I don’t think so, dear. I didn’t see another suitable item.”

  Eden’s swallowed her frustration. “Then I’m sure you won’t mind turning the sign to CLOSED on your way out.”

  Chin in the air, the woman wheeled around, her gold mules slapping indignant steps across the floor. The door eased closed behind her and Eden jammed her hands over her ears, the music of Jace’s chime singing of his compassion and his care.

  When she next looked up she found herself alone. She climbed from the stool, plodded to the front door and, for the first time since she’d lived in Arbor Glen, flipped the lock. No one, not even Molly Hansen or Chloe Angelino, was going to disturb her much needed cry.

  Whether due to hormones or sadness or weeks of stress, she needed the release of long, quiet tears. But they wouldn’t come. She stood there in the silent minutes after closing, while the clock ticked, while the old house shifted and settled, and the tears refused to come. Fine, she thought miserably and stomped one foot.

  And now, on top of everything else, she’d come home in the early hours of the morning to find two messages on her machine. Desperate messages. One from the woman who’d been her administrative assistant at Elite Woman magazine and the other from the magazine’s publisher.

  They wanted her back. They needed her back. They were willing to pay anything to have her come back. That anything included flexible hours to accommodate her parenting needs, as well as on-site day care. Private, individualized day care in a room adjacent to her office.

  The offer had hit all her buttons, and now she had the biggest decision of her life to make. Did she go? Or did she stay?

  Her back door banged open; the screen whacked shut behind. Tools clattered, metal ringing against metal as if dumped from one box to another. The slamming doors echoed in reverse as if whoever—be honest, Eden—like Jace was leaving.

  She breathed deep, wondering whether he was coming back, whether he wanted to see her, whether she had the strength to move.

  Pushing off the front door, she made her way to the kitchen just as Jace came back inside, rocking chair in hand.

  He hadn’t shaved, and his face appeared haggard and drawn beneath a scruffy growth of dark whiskers, his eyes the dull blue of exhaustion. He wore black from head to toe. But still, he smiled.

  “You forgot what you came for.” He set the rocker in motion with the toe of his moccasin.

  “Thanks. But you did
n’t need to make a special trip.”

  “Why not? You made a special trip last night. You didn’t even wake me up to help you load it this morning.” He propped lazy hands on his hips. “I figured it was the least I could do to drop it by.”

  She wasn’t going to tell him that she’d completely forgotten about the rocking chair. “You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “I slept like a baby.” He stretched and yawned, obviously trying to convince her. Too bad his eyes lied. “You look like you could use a few more hours.”

  She laughed lightly. If he only knew. “Believe me, I plan to do all I can to catch up tonight.”

  “Well,” he began, rubbing a palm over the back of his neck. “The festival’s over. Tomorrow the shops are closed. You ought to climb into bed, unplug the phone, and sleep until Tuesday morning.”

  She wondered if she’d be able to sleep alone, after knowing the joy of sleeping with him. She was going to have to get over that, though. Especially since he refused to talk about tomorrow.

  “That sounds like a smart thing to do.” Showtime. “I wish I’d thought to unplug my phone last night.”

  He frowned. “Why’s that?”

  “I got a call from New York.” She hoped her voice sounded as casual as she was working for. She held up two fingers. “Two calls actually.”

  He nodded slowly. “They’ve offered you the moon to come back, haven’t they?”

  “Close enough.”

  “Are you going?” he asked, his jaw tight.

  “I don’t know. I thought I’d take at least thirty-six hours to think about it.”

  “You’re done with the spur of the moment decisions, huh?”

  “I’ve had mixed luck with those. Hiring you on the spot was one of the better ones.”

  “And shopping for a rocking chair in the middle of the night was one of the worst.”

  “Not worst. Just not smartest.” Hmm. That hadn’t come out exactly the way she’d intended. “What I meant was—”