Читать книгу Suspect Lover - Stephanie Doyle - Страница 11

Caroline let Dominic lead her back up the stairs without a protest. She didn’t want to tug on his hand, fearing he might stop. A stern “stay!” kept Munch happily curled up on the couch in the living room. Then the next thing she knew, she was standing in the bedroom.

His room.

She reminded herself that this wasn’t like her. A woman didn’t stay single as long as she had without having some reservations when it came to men. Sex was an important thing and she took it seriously. Maybe too seriously. But all her internal defense mechanisms evaporated with his kiss.

She should have known it would be this way.

Hadn’t she reacted the first time she saw his picture? As if her stomach had plummeted to her feet. His serious eyes and serious mouth. When his name popped up in her e-mail, she smiled. His voice on the phone made her shiver. She wanted him before she’d agreed to his invitation.

She told herself it was her active imagination. That it was just the hope of what he could give her that made him seem so attractive. But she knew there was nothing imaginary about it. She’d come here for him. Because something inside her said he was waiting for her. And he kissed her not like a man bent on seduction, but rather like a man already in the grip of need. As if he’d wanted her before he’d ever seen her, too.

“Caroline,” he whispered. His mouth left hers, taking her breath with it. “I’m sorry. I should go slower.”

“No.” She didn’t want to go slow. She didn’t want to have time to think. She wanted to act. Reaching down she pulled her sweater over her head, letting her hair fall in a muss about her shoulders.

The simple bra wasn’t enticing and it hadn’t occurred to her to wear anything more daring, but she could feel Dominic’s eyes on her. With a gentle push, he turned her around so that she faced away from him. He bent her head forward and brushed aside her hair, his mouth falling hot and wet on the nape of her neck. His hands cupped her breasts from behind and squeezed.

The sensation was stunning. After so long—so long she didn’t want to even think about it—of not being held or touched or treated like a woman, this was sensory overload. His fingers pulled down the straps of her bra until the cups gave up their hold on her breasts and his hands were there instead. He pinched her hardening nipples while his mouth made a trail down her spine. One sharp tug and the bra was gone. Then his hands were on the front of her jeans while his lips traced soft kisses over her bare shoulder.

She watched him undo the button and zipper, saw him sink his hands into her practical white panties. The sensation of watching and feeling his fingers touching her sent a bolt of heat through her belly. Then he bent to pull off the rest of her clothes. Was it her imagination or did he linger over the socks? His fingers pulled them off. First one, then the other. His hand settled on her calf and even that simple touch made her shudder.

She could hear the rustle of material behind her and knew that he was taking off his clothes. Instinct demanded that she turn and help him. That she entice him with small touches and kisses like he’d done as he undressed her, but instead she stood frozen staring at the bed. Soon he’d be inside her and it would probably change her life.

A hand gently grazed her ass as he stepped around her. He sat on the bed and moved to the center of it, stretching himself out. The moon, high on a clear night, provided more than enough illumination for her to see. He seemed bigger to her without his clothes. More substantial. His sex thrust up high and thick from a dark nest of hair between his legs. His thighs were slightly separated, urging her, it seemed, to step between them.

“Caroline.” Dominic reached out his hand to her.

Crawling—there was no other word for it—onto the bed and up his body, she settled her bottom gingerly on his belly, her arms pinned on either side of his head. His hands came up to play with her breasts again, his finger and thumb tugging on her nipple until her neck arched, then her back.

“Do we have a condom?” Her words were muffled as one of his hands circled her body. A finger traced her spine, ran over her bottom, then up her stomach until he once again palmed her breast.

“You can trust me. I’m safe.”

She shook her head, as if to say that wasn’t what she meant. But he was pulling her head down toward him, his tongue playing with her lips until it pushed deep into her mouth.

“This is your decision,” he muttered. He teased the corner of her lips making her want more than ever the deep impact of his kiss.

“Mine,” she conceded. Her choice. Her life. Her decision.

Her future.

She found herself shifting backward, twisting her hips until she felt the broad head of his erection butting up against her curls. She could feel how wet she was, knew he could feel it, too, and wasn’t sure if she should be embarrassed by how quickly he’d brought her to this state.

“You have to help me,” she said even as she reached down to bring him closer. She forgot how thrilling it was to hold a man’s sex in her hand. To feel it pulse. Soft skin over resolute hardness. It beckoned her to take more. His hand was on her hip, guiding her and she could feel him sinking into her one hard inch at a time. Her body resisted at first, but his insistence and her slickness were no match for any defense she might muster.

Joining. Mating. The words were weak in comparison to how it felt to take him inside.

Instinctively she moved on him as he thrust up slightly. His knuckle found its way between her legs, teasing that perfect spot that made her see light even though her eyes were closed.

“More,” he muttered. “Take more.”

Opening her eyes, she wasn’t sure what he meant. It felt as if she were already speared on him. But his eyes were closed and his jaw was tight. The muscles in his neck were corded as if he were in pain. It wasn’t what she wanted for him. Her hands rested on his smooth chest and she used them for leverage as she sat up and indeed felt him slide deeper. Then that persistent finger between her legs, so intent on pulling on her, stroking her, catapulted her into a climax before she knew she was that close.

When the last tug of her muscles had subsided, he rolled her onto her back with gentle persistence. His face above hers, his mouth only a breath away. In the dark, the harsh lines of his cheeks and chin should have been frightening, but they weren’t.

“Tell me if this is too much,” he muttered in her ear, as his body lowered completely over hers. She felt him push into her and knew that she’d barely taken half of his erection. For a moment she wanted to protest. Her nails dug into his shoulders as her body was stretched and filled beyond what she thought she could take. She felt him stop and instinctively knew what it cost him. Focusing on relaxing, she tilted her hips toward him, encouraging him.

“It’s okay,” she muttered. “It’s okay.”

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

She could feel him pulling back. In retaliation she wrapped her legs around his hips. The action sent him deeper and this time beyond the pain she knew a fulfillment she’d never dreamed was possible.

“You’re not hurting me.” At least not enough to make her give up the pleasure of it.

His head dipped and he took her lips even as his body began to move more urgently. Each penetration was so deep. Before she could think about how one thrust felt there was another and another. It was too much. Too much heat. Too much power. Too much intensity. But she wouldn’t have stopped him for the world. It was like being in the center of a storm. There was danger. A sense of fear. But also the thrill of watching it happen, of feeling it explode around her. She embraced it, all of it and relished in her triumph over the coward because for now it was gone.

For the second time she came and wondered if she might faint from the incredible rush.

Hanging on to her senses, she felt his body surge. She heard his muttered growl against her neck and felt the wet hot seed from his body pumping inside her. Caroline didn’t realize you could feel that. Didn’t know it was possible.

Slowly he eased away from her, rolling onto his back. She could still feel him between her legs and imagined she would continue to do so for hours. There was something entirely erotic about that. She rubbed her legs together and felt the wetness there.

Harsh short breaths from both of them broke the silence until she couldn’t not say something.

“I can’t believe we didn’t use anything,” she panted.

He said nothing.

She didn’t turn toward him, didn’t feel that she could. The intimacy they had just shared was suddenly gone. He wasn’t touching her. Wasn’t stroking her. She felt tears well up in her eyes and willed them away. This had been good. Amazing. Maybe he was nervous about the step they had just taken. Maybe he was as afraid as she was.

“You said you wanted to be a father, but I didn’t realize you wanted it that quickly.”

The bed shifted as he adjusted his weight toward her, but he still didn’t touch her.

“I said I wanted a child. I have a legacy to offer. Something I’ve built. I want to give that to my child. What kind of father I will be, I don’t know. I want to be honest with you, Caroline.”

“You have been so far. I think.”

She turned her head and saw even through the darkness the stark white of his eyes. His hand reached out and settled on her stomach. A slow warmth built there and radiated throughout her limbs.

Finally. A touch.

“I don’t imagine that I would make a decent parent. Or husband, for that matter. My work, it is who I am, not just what I do. But I will provide for you. I will never let anyone hurt you or our baby. I will be as much a part of your lives as I can. That has to be enough.” He seemed to catch himself. “Is that enough?”

Was it enough?

Caroline glanced down at the hand that rested protectively against an unlikely conception. She easily could get up now, dress and leave. He’d given her a snapshot of her future, their marriage. An absent husband and father. She had no real ties to him. There were other men that the service she’d hired could set her up with. Another man might be more open to having a real family rather than simply inviting a woman and a child to come live in his house. If she’d found the courage to do this once, maybe she could do it again.

But that man wouldn’t be Dominic. That was the true trap. Not some wisp of an idea that their relationship might result in a child.

“What happens if you fall desperately in love with me?” She smiled as she cupped his very stern face in her hand. She felt a muscle twitch under her palm and soothed it.

“Marry me, Caroline. Please.”

Talk about a leap of faith. She might as well have been standing outside on the cliffs. She could turn back and take the safe path home, something she’d been doing all of her life. Or she could jump. She waited for the fear to creep up on her. Was ready to do battle with it. But there was nothing. Nothing but a sense of certainty.

“All right.”

He thought she might have fallen asleep but it was hard to tell. The sex and the overwhelming release of his orgasm should have been enough to put him in a coma for the next few days, let alone hours. Instead he was staring at the ceiling.

A soft purr emanated from the space beside him.

Yes, she was definitely out. Dominic envied her sleep and wondered why he couldn’t follow. Surely, he’d gotten the better of the deal tonight. He wanted sex. He wanted a conclusion. He wanted a child.

He received one, was promised the other and had the hope of the last.

His eyes were wide open.

Was it because of the feelings she’d invoked? Taking her, he’d gone beyond desire or need. Yes, there was the symmetry of motion that made for good sex. It was easy to label it chemistry. He’d had good sex before. He knew what it felt like. This was good and different. Memorable, but also unnerving.

That was okay. They liked one another. Lusted after each other. That would help make their marriage stick.

He didn’t think that was keeping him awake.

It could be he had some antiquated notion that good sex automatically equaled a baby and as ready as he said he was for that, he wasn’t.

He only wished he could make himself believe that.

There was no point in lying to himself. He was wide awake, listening to his fiancée—his fiancée—breathe because he knew that despite his declarations he hadn’t told her the whole truth.

He should have told her who he really was. What he really was.

He should have let her know before she agreed to marry him that he could be dangerous.

Now it was too late. She was his.