Cradle and All (17 page)

Her head swam as her pulse wobbled.

She was so caught up in the swirl of reaction that for a moment the reality didn’t register. That wasn’t Tom’s skin on her arm.

Startled, Anne pulled back. She placed a hand on Tommy’s brow. “Tom, the baby feels hot. He hasn’t eaten and he’s been lethargic for the last hour. Something’s wrong.”

Tom lifted the baby out of his blanket and felt his face, frowning. “The thermometer’s at home.”

“Forget the thermometer,” Anne said, shooting to her feet. “We’re taking him to the emergency room.”

* * *

T
OM
WATCHED
A
NNE
as she went up to the nurses’ desk and demanded to know why the examination of Tommy was taking so long.

She was wonderfully intimidating. She had the nurses scurrying back to see what was causing the delay.

Even his current worry over the baby couldn’t diminish the happiness Tom felt.

He would have stopped their marriage from taking place today if he’d had any doubt about Anne wanting to marry him. But he hadn’t. She had lied for him twice during the last two days. A highly principled woman like Anne would have done that for one reason and one reason only.

She loved him.

That Anne was unaware she loved him rather amazed Tom. For a woman as smart as she to overlook such an obvious explanation for her behavior could only be attributed to the fact that she’d distanced herself from her true emotions for too long.

The price she paid for the betrayal of her husband? For the pain and disappointment when she’d learned she was infertile? Probably both.

Tom told himself all she needed was time to tune in—to her feelings, to him, to the choice her heart had made. All it would take was time.

He could give her time. He planned to give her a lifetime.

The doctor, a bulky blond woman with tired eyes, carried the screaming Tommy out of the examination room.

“He has an ear infection,” she said.

“How serious is it?” Tom asked.

“He’ll have a temperature and be lethargic for a while. But you needn’t worry. I’ll give you a prescription for drops. I don’t normally see babies this young with this kind of infection, though. Do either of you smoke?”

“No,” Anne said. “Why?”

“Babies who breathe in secondhand smoke are more prone to ear infections,” the doctor explained. “Are you breast-feeding him?”

“No,” Anne said.

“It’s really important for a baby to have breast milk,” the doctor said. “It contains the antibodies that help ward off infections like these. If you’re interested, we have a lactation consultant here this evening. I’d be happy to call her—”

“Thank you,” Tom said, cutting the doctor off. “That won’t be necessary.” He saw no reason for Anne to have to go on the defensive again, especially not tonight, with concern for Tommy already clouding her eyes.

“It’s all right, Tom,” Anne said, surprising him. She turned back to the doctor. “May I see her now?”

The doctor nodded. “This way.”

After Anne returned from her consultation, they picked up the eardrops at the hospital’s pharmacy and headed home.

“Do you mind if I keep Tommy with me again tonight?” she asked.

Tom knew then that Anne’s thoughts were all for the baby. She had totally forgotten that they had been married just a few hours before. And that this was their wedding night.

He had hoped...ah, what he had hoped!

Still, he knew when she spoke about getting a divorce that she had not taken their marriage ceremony seriously. He had promised himself that he would give her time. All the time she needed. And he would keep that promise.

“Sure, you can keep him with you,” Tom said.

What he was going to do tonight, he did not know. Maybe a cold shower or two. Or three.

CHAPTER NINE

A
FTER
A
NNE
HAD
bathed herself and the baby, she settled on the bed with him in her lap and spread out the lactation instructions before her.

She’d never known how important breast milk was for a child until she read the scientific reports. Human breast milk contained at least a hundred ingredients not found in formula. A baby’s immune system, IQ, eyesight—everything was enhanced if he were breast-fed.

There were lots of supplements offered for an adoptive mother. Anne had gotten them from the lactation consultant and taken them earlier. But what had been recommended most strongly for generating milk in the breast was suction action on the nipple.

She had no idea how long Tommy would be with her. Logically, she knew she was being foolish to even try this. But she had to do something. She couldn’t let him keep getting sick because he wasn’t getting the optimal nutrition he needed.

Anne sat up and unbuttoned the top of her white lace nightgown. She cradled Tommy to her and brought him close to her exposed breast. Gently she rubbed her nipple against the baby’s lips. Tommy didn’t need any more invitation. He latched on. This time Anne made sure the positioning was right—his mouth wide open, the nipple far back.

He looked up at her with such love and trust as they bonded flesh to flesh. Anne’s heart melted. But it took only a moment for the suction to bring pain.

“Ooh-ah,” she moaned, as she gently detached him from her nipple.

Tommy’s disappointment came out in a loud and immediate howl. Anne felt a little like howling in disappointment herself as she rocked him gently to her. She was just too sensitive.

When the knock came on the door a second later, she yelled, “Come in,” without thinking.

Tom entered. “Is everything all right?”

Anne exhaled heavily as Tommy’s cries finally subsided. She gave the little boy a reassuring hug before looking up. “Yes. It’s just...”

Anne forgot what she was going to say. Tom was standing beside the bed, his hair wet from his recent shower, wearing nothing but pajama bottoms. His lean, bronze body was beautiful in the glow of the lamplight.

But it was the heat in his eyes and where they were looking that had Anne’s pulses racing.

It was only then that she remembered the front of her nightgown was still open and her breast exposed. She felt the warmth in her cheeks as she fumbled with the fabric.

“Were you trying to breast-feed Tommy?” Tom asked.

“You wouldn’t believe how important it is,” she said, struggling to button the gown with one hand. She looked down at it, not at Tom. “The food value is far superior to formula. Even the way a baby sucks milk from a breast is different. An infant strips milk from a real nipple with his tongue. With a bottle, a baby’s tongue just serves to limit the flow of milk. Sucking at the breast promotes good jaw development and encourages the growth of straight, healthy teeth.”

She was babbling and she knew it. But she was embarrassed. And edgy. And very aware of Tom.

“You stopped because it hurt,” Tom guessed.

Anne nodded. “Of course I don’t have any milk, but the suction action is supposed to stimulate a part of the brain to get it started.”

“Anne, you don’t have to do this.”

“He needs it, Tom. It’s important to him.”

She lifted her head. Tom’s eyes were looking directly into hers, gently searching.

“I want to do it for him,” she admitted with a soft sigh.

Tom studied her quietly for a moment. That calm, contained expression was all Anne could see. Whatever thoughts were behind it were hidden.

“Do you want me to help?” he asked.

Anne frowned up at him. “How could you help?”

“I’ll show you if it’s what you really want. Is it?”

Anne didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

He slipped onto the bed and moved behind her. Anne felt herself tensing as her nerves sparked to attention, alert, restless.

“You can trust me, Anne,” he said, and the breath of his words moved against the back of her hair as his hands rested lightly on her shoulders.

She could feel the drawing heat of his body, the clean scent of his skin, the gentle warmth of his hands. Her shoulders relaxed as the tenseness faded away.

“There’s an East African tribe that has a custom that has always fascinated me,” Tom said as his hands started to slowly massage her shoulders and back. Anne felt as soothed by his rich, relaxed voice as she was by the languid sweep of his fingertips over her muscles.

“As soon as a woman realizes she wants a child, she leaves the village and goes to sit alone beneath the spreading branches of a shade tree,” Tom continued.

His touch was so light, giving, freeing. Anne closed her eyes as his clever hands stroked her neck, then swept into her hair to knead her scalp, sending a luscious warmth down her spine.

“Under this tree, the woman waits, carefully listening until her heart can hear the song of the child that wants to be born.” Tom’s deep murmur hummed as he eased Anne back against his chest.

She relaxed against the hard heat of him with a sigh. He lightly kissed her hair as his hands continued to massage her neck and shoulders.

“And when she hears the song of the child who wants to be born, she sings it to herself,” Tom said, his voice now as hypnotizing as his broad caresses. Anne’s muscles melted as her senses overflowed with pleasure.

This felt so good. So very, very good.

“Then the woman returns to the village and teaches the song to her partner so that when they come together, they both invite this child to be conceived in their act of love,” his velvet voice whispered beside her ear.

Delicious chills danced down her neck.

“That’s the way every child should be welcomed into the world,” Anne said with a smile. “What a great custom.”

“Humm,” Tom agreed, feathering kisses down the side of her cheek. When she felt the heat of his breath against her ear, a jolt of pleasure shot through her.

Anne was tingling. Tingling all over.

Tom’s hands swept across her shoulders to the sides of her arms, a warm, deep, imprinting touch that she felt right down to her toes. When his hands swept back up her arms, his fingertips lightly brushed the sides of her breasts.

Anne’s skin quivered as heat fizzed through her.

Then his mouth brushed kisses along the side of her neck, shortening her breath. Anne moaned and rolled her head forward as she offered him access to the sensitive back of her neck. He took it eagerly, with hungry, hot, openmouthed kisses that melted her spine.

He eased his hands down her sides, then circled her breasts, gently caressing, enticing. Blood charged through her and flames licked a path through her stomach. She could feel her breasts swelling with desire, her nipples aching to be touched.

His kisses burned her neck as he slowly undid the buttons of her gown, pulling it back to expose her breasts. The sudden cool air on her heated skin halted the breath in her lungs.

When his hot hands enclosed her bare breasts, she moaned and arched against him, filling his palms with her aching fullness. His fingers feathered across her hardened nipples and hunger rippled through her.

His breath was hoarse against her ear. “The baby.”

The baby?

“Try him on your nipple now.”

Anne had forgotten all about the baby! She shifted Tommy in her lap and brought him to her breast. This time when Tommy took her nipple in his mouth, there was no pain, only pleasure.

As the baby suckled Anne’s breast, Tom pressed more searing kisses down her neck and throat, and his hand glided over her gown, across her flat stomach to caress the swell of her hip, the length of her thigh. The firm press of his hand burned through her lace nightgown to set her flesh on fire.

Anne could concentrate on nothing but the incredible sensations radiating through her body with each kiss, each touch of his hand.

She was on fire. And it was glorious.

Tom told himself he had aroused Anne so she could suckle the baby without pain. But he knew in his heart that he was doing this just as much for himself.

He inhaled her sweet scent until he was drunk with it. Kissed the honey from her skin until he was high. Let his hand trace from her full breasts to the swell of her hip to her slim thigh until he was throbbing with need.

It was pure, agonizing torment to keep it up without going further, but he would not take what she did not offer. No matter what it cost him.

And what it was costing him was a searing pain in every cell of his body. He forcibly reminded himself that he was stronger than his urges. And fervently prayed that he was right.

When a soft cry broke from Anne’s lips, Tom immediately drew back, shifting her in his arms to see her face. “Is it hurting?” he asked, and knew his voice was nothing but a ragged whisper.

“No, no,” she said. “The baby let go.”

Tom looked down at the sleeping infant in Anne’s arms. He gently picked Tommy up, got out of bed and laid him carefully in the crib.

“How did you know this would work?” Anne asked.

When Tom turned back to her, she saw his full arousal for the first time and gave a stunned start. She hadn’t thought about what his touching her might be doing to him. His eyes smoldered as he drank in her flushed face and exposed breasts.

“I’m not just a priest,” he said in a husky whisper. “I’m also a man.”

Was he ever. Her eyes skimmed over the rapid rise of his muscular chest, glistening with a fine perspiration. Then her gaze lowered to his flat, clenched stomach and the large bulge below.

“Anne, I need to make love to you more than I need to breathe. But if you want me to go, I will.”

Her head shot up. Faultless restraint shone in his eyes, despite the desperate need radiating out of his body, etched on his features like pain.

He had told her she could trust him. And when he gave her his word, he meant it. She knew with an absolute certainty that all she had to do was tell him to go and he would.

That knowledge did strange things to Anne. She suddenly felt utterly and completely defenseless against the overwhelming desire spilling into her blood and singing in her heart.

“Stay, Tom,” she said, and her voice was deep and husky with need.

He was back beside her on the bed in a heartbeat, his mouth firmly and fiercely planted onto hers. God, he tasted wonderful. Anne closed her eyes and circled her arms around his shoulders. Her sigh escaped into his parting lips as her body melted against him.

Anne’s response was so full, so complete, it burst like fire in Tom’s blood. He pulled her to him, luxuriated in the feel of her flesh against his, devoured her mouth with all the need that had grown so deep inside him. She tasted like an April dawn, sweet and full of promise. He wanted that promise. And its fulfillment. Now.

Anne’s senses spun, her thoughts scattered to the air.

He was branding her with a heat that seared her to her soles. This was nothing like his delicately sensual kiss of two nights before. She knew now that had been a mere preview of passion.

This was the passion.

And it sung in her bones, beat in her blood as her own passion rose to meet it. His mouth was pure fire, hot and hard. The cry that escaped her lips was unadulterated entreaty. He swallowed it and demanded more, tasting her deeply, tantalizing her with the heat of his mouth until she was trembling all over.

His lips and body burned into hers, branding her with their fierce claim. Anne’s blood beat hot and fast, rushing through her body as intense pleasure rose in her core.

And then he released her mouth and bent his head to her breast, licking the nipple, bathing her with his breath, tugging the peak with his mouth, suckling her, burning fire into her bones.

As he heard her whimper of want, of need, blood hammered through Tom so hard that he could barely draw in breath. He shifted to her other nipple and suckled its sweetness as he lifted her and laid her back on the bed.

With hands that shook, he pulled off her nightgown, then sought the giving softness of her skin. He was too hot and too hard and she was shivering beneath his touch. He had to slow down. But he couldn’t. Her hunger wouldn’t let him.

Her hands pulled him to her as he trailed moist, heated kisses over her breasts, down her belly. She was satin, with the flavor of sweet cream. He could not get enough, quickly enough.

His hand spread her silken thighs, sought the sensitive flesh between. Feeling how hot and wet she was tore the breath from his lungs. As he caressed her sultry folds, she shuddered and called out his name, and his heart hammered his rib cage.

Anne melted in the heat of his kisses on her breasts, in the glittering fire that licked over her mind and body, consuming both.

The low sounds escaping her throat were ones of desperation. Her body was shaking, demanding with an intolerable craving. His firm fingers, then his wet tongue stroked her moist center, probed her, pushed her past all caring for anything else. The fierce pleasure swept through her and she ignited, arching against him, bursting with fulfillment.

And then his mouth was on hers and he was joining their bodies, pressing into her sleek depths until he could go no farther. She wrapped her legs around him and held on. The sensation of having him inside her, filling her so completely, fitting every part of her so perfectly, was incredible.

They moved together, breathed together, hearts beating together. Each glide of muscle and bone was as one in a rhythm of intimacy, a synchronized meshing of bodies and souls.

Anne had never imagined such feelings could exist. She and Tom were joined. And for the first time in her life, she really understood those words. The pleasure was glorious, mind shattering, heaven. And Tom was bringing it to her, sharing it with her.

He made a sound deep in his throat that became her name as he gave himself to her. With a muffled cry of discovery, she soared into uncharted worlds of sensation.

As the subsequent minutes blurred by in stunned succession, Anne wondered dazedly if she were ever going to be able to breathe evenly again. Tom still lay on top of her, braced on his elbows to keep his full weight from crushing her. His breath sounded as labored as her own.