Just a Little Misgiving (Shades of Deception, Book 3) (14 page)

He picked her up effortlessly and moved down the hall to the stairs. Her arms were looped around his neck, her fingers stroking the corded muscles. When he stopped at the open door of his room, she tensed.

"Is something wrong?"

Faith looked from his heavy-lidded gaze to the massive bed. She shook her head in apology. "Not... not here, Myles. It's—"

"I should have realized. Not very perceptive on my part, I'm afraid."

She touched her fingers to his lips, soothing him. "I understand. Don't feel bad."

"I'll move it to the guest room." He caught her lips in a sweetly fierce kiss. "How would you like to pick out a new one tomorrow? Our first piece of furniture—it'll be like starting new."

"A wedding present? From you to me?"

"From us to us." He turned and carried her to the next room, relieved that the strained moment hadn't cast a shadow on their joy. He was absolutely drained, and he knew Faith had to be too. They needed sustenance, not old reminders.

He moved through the darkness of her room until he reached the side table with the nursery lamp.

"Do you mind?"

She reached down and fumbled for the switch. They were suddenly bathed in shadows and a peach-tinted glow. A lullaby began to play softly in the background.

They smiled at each other, the tinkling melody no longer keeping them estranged but joined, as they should be.

Once the song had played twice, Myles shut off the music-box control.

"Sweet," he said. "But not the kind of music I had in mind."

"Good. At the moment I'd rather be a woman than a mother. Though, Myles..."

"Hmmm?" he murmured, nuzzling her neck.

"What I said about almost wishing it wasn't yours... nothing could be farther from the truth. I'm thrilled I'm having your baby."

"And not the other man's?" Jealousy nipped at his heels again, tightening his chest with the need to possess her. And he would.

Faith hesitated, studying his face. She seemed to want to say something, something important.

"What?" he said. "I'm being ridiculous. I have no right to those years or the feelings you had for someone else. But no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get past it. You bring out something in me that makes me hate the thought of sharing you with another man, even a mystery man buried in your past."

"You're the only man who matters to me, Myles. No one ever mattered to me the way you do."

"In that case I'll put my jealousy aside." He slid her down his length and plucked the few pins left in her hair. "And get on with finishing what we started earlier."

Her cheeks were flushed with anticipation, but she looked away, suddenly shy.

"I'm nervous," she admitted with a small laugh.

"Then I'll have to put you at ease, won't I? Let's see," he murmured as he kneeled and removed a gold pump. "First the shoes." He lifted her other foot and kissed it before sliding the heel off. "You'll dance much easier without these."

His palms moved up her calves, then drew slow, intricate circles around her knees. He could feel a fine tremble in response to his light touch.

"And I'll want to feel your bare skin while we move, so you don't mind if I take this off, too, do you, dear?" He didn't wait for permission but glided his hands upward over the cool silk of her hose, feeling the warmth of her flesh beneath.

He was aching. He'd been aching all night, all month, and maybe even for years, only he'd refused to acknowledge its existence. The hunger was too great, and he was bent on taking her slowly, not trusting himself to unleash the force of passion that was already gnawing at his resolve.

He hooked his fingers into her hose and panties and peeled them down, feeling her shake. Feeling himself begin to shake.

Once they were off, he rose and stared at her face, tilted backward, eyes closed, lips parted.

"Now we dance," he whispered roughly.

"I already hear the music," she murmured, and swayed into him.

A groan caught in his throat. His teeth clenched while his body demanded that he take her immediately. Furiously. Without gentle persuasion or time to savor.

"This is just the intro. I think we need some lyrics to make it last." He forced himself to go to the sound system they'd set up after unpacking. The disks in the CD player were familiar to him; they held sensual, fluid music, perfect for a night of erotic discovery.

He pressed a button.

Sound filtered through the room, weaving its magic web as he took her in his arms. Her own lifted, and he felt one hand brush over the back of his neck while the other sifted through his hair. Her nails against his scalp caused him to shiver, and he pulled her closer as he imagined them sinking into his back.

They danced easily, naturally, with motions that suggested they'd been partners for a very long while. His hand moved over the lamé covering her back, and he pulled the zipper down. As smooth as a whisper, it obliged him and parted, giving him access to her bare back.

He fanned his fingers over the smoothness of her skin, exploring it until she moaned and began to release the buttons of his shirt. Quickly he shrugged it off, then drew down the bodice of her dress. They danced, bare-chested, rubbing lightly against each other until he could feel the tautness of her nipples brushing against him. Her sighs of arousal were more delicious and heady than the strains of music.

He bent her back just far enough to nip and suckle her until she cried for more.

"I'll give you more," he promised, then tensed as his unruly body demanded he stop the play and take and take and take without regard to her condition. "There's a problem, though. I might be more than you bargained for."

"Never. I want too much. I want it all."

He inhaled the feminine scent from her neck, her wrists, her hair.

"Torture," he murmured, sipping at her lips. "The sweetest torture I've ever endured. I want you to pay for making me suffer."

"Gladly," she answered. "Take any price you want."

"I won't be fair," he warned, his heart pounding too hard and fast. His control unraveled to a slender thread as he lifted her up and rubbed the moisture from her breasts on his chest. "I'll make you cry for me. And when you do, I won't be able to stop. Even if you ask for mercy."

"I don't want mercy. I want you. Take me to bed, Myles. Enough."

He turned her until her back was against him and her buttocks pressed intimately against his groin. He lifted her dress, grasping her, learning how lovely she was made, touching her however he wanted. If she was shocked, she didn't protest.

He ground against her, no longer able to think as he struggled with his raging passion. He was so dangerously close to losing the battle.

But he loved her enough not to give in.

He played with the hair guarding her feminine heat, hearing her rasping breath, feeling the springy texture that was moist. He couldn't stop himself from imagining how she might taste...

Her legs nearly buckled. "I can't wait... Let the dance be over. It's time, Myles. Past time."

She rubbed frantically against him, shameless in her own want. A hoarse groan tore from his throat. He turned her around, clenching her tight.

"Oh, God, Faith. You don't know. It's tearing at me, it's been building for so long. I haven't hardly touched you and I'm half out of my mind wanting to drive into you as hard and fast as I can." Staring into her eyes, he saw the urgency of her need. "Don't you understand? I'm afraid of hurting you."

"You won't hurt me. The doctor said—"

"In this case the doctor could be wrong."

"She wouldn't have given us permission if she'd had any doubts."

"But I have doubts." He grasped her behind and rubbed between the cradle of her thighs. "Faith, you have to listen to me.
I... have... no... control."

The starkness of his primitive need bore into her consciousness. She wanted Myles this way, driven by a desire that could shake even a man like him with its force. Shutting her mind to the tiny voice of apprehension, she insinuated her hand between their meshed bodies and kneaded the rigid flesh straining against his fly.

He continued to look at her through slitted eyes, breathing in harsh gasps.

"I want this to last."

"There'll be other times." She found his buckle with her other hand and began to undo it.

"I want to see you naked. I want... I want to see what I've only felt."

"You can," she whispered, her fingers curving over the shape of him. "Soon, Myles. Soon..."

"I've imagined kissing you there, tasting you."

"You don't have to imagine anymore. It's yours, yours for the taking." The sound of his zipper rasping open mingled with their choppy breathing.

"Oh, God," he groaned, his head falling back, his face taut with agony.

Their fevered hands shed the remains of each other's clothes. There wasn't time to admire his physique. He was a blur of rough hair, hard muscle, and tensing strength. Myles pulled her along the short distance to the bed, touching her wherever he could as they frantically rubbed and grappled, nearly stumbling in their haste.

He tumbled her down and stretched out over her, his hardness pressing against her belly.

"I didn't want the first time to be like this," he rasped. "But there's no other way."

"We make our own way." She couldn't control the shivering of her body or her questing hand from reaching for him.

He caught her wrist in a steely grip.

"Later," he growled in warning. "For now, just trust me. Do what I say, and we'll be all right."

"Tell me what to do. I don't know what you want."

"This..."he answered.

He slid back and forth against her, pretending it was enough.

"It's not enough," she whimpered, straining toward him.

"It
has
to be," he insisted. He ground his mouth over hers, letting his tongue glide rapidly and mate with hers in a way he could not.

"No. Inside," she pleaded. "When you're inside."

"Not this time." He began to move more frantically, allowing the contact to deepen just a fraction.

He was only making her ache worse, and she could have wept with his refusal. She arched, opening her thighs wider, silently begging for more.

"We do it this way," he groaned between a plea and a command. "Next time, next... time. When I have some kind of control."

"Damn you," she cried. "Damn you for doing this to me, leaving me hurting like this. It's not enough, not half enough." She locked her legs around his hips, tilting upward. "Can't you feel my body crying? Can't you feel me shake? Take me,
all
of me. Lose your damnable control."

With an anguished groan, he grasped her hips, his fingers biting into her skin. He took the weight of his belly off hers while his head dropped forward and he stared down at her with a glittering fury that was wild and consuming.

As she waited for a moment that was an eternity, she smelled the mingled sweat sheening their torsos. A salty drop fell from his brow onto her upper lip, and she licked it, savoring the liquid of his body with her tongue. His face was harsh, intense. Beloved. The hair covering his legs was rough against hers, and she embraced the slight discomfort with gladness, knowing each of these things would be seared into her memory to cherish for a lifetime.

He thrust into her with a powerful jerk of his hips, sinking into her until she had taken him fully.

She was so ready, so eager to embrace him as hers and hers alone that she welcomed even the pain in her tender flesh. Then she felt her body adjust to the unfamiliar fullness of him inside her.

He moved over her, whispering, "Mine... all mine. You belong to me."

"I've always belonged to you," she answered while tears trickled down the side of her face at the wonder of his possession, their union.

She moved against him, marveling at the pleasure that flooded through her.

"Dance," she told him. "Dance like you've never danced before."

He obeyed with a tempo that was demanding, desperate, beyond imagination. She was no match for him, and when she could no longer meet the demand of his body, she gave herself into his keeping and let him take control.

She didn't want it to end. She fought against the tide trying to take her away, out of herself and into a dark universe sparked only by his forceful grind, his chest sweetly punishing her breasts. His growls mingled with her own murmurings, lacing in words that were inarticulate and had no meaning other than greed and love and need.

The tide broke. She climaxed with a ripping force that came in wave upon wave of shimmering, unearthly sensation. She sobbed his name, and he echoed hers before he crushed her lips with his and invaded her mouth to seek and receive a fierce, savage kiss. Then there was the flood, the hot liquid of his body emptying itself, and hers absorbing the seed he planted.

Their bodies continued to shudder as if chilled to the bone though their skin was fevered, hot to the touch. Against their joined lips Myles was groaning her name over and over. His hands moved to her hair and began to stroke, to soothe, as he rubbed his cheek against her tear-stained one.