Three Wishes (30 page)

“We’re getting married,” he stated flatly, his voice again smooth and silky and the gymnastics team in her belly started to do their warm up stretches.

She put her hands on his abdomen and shoved with all her might.

He didn’t move away, instead, his arm closed around her like a vice, crushing her against his body. His other hand dropped, also coming around her, higher on her back so her breasts were pressed against him. His head was bent so that his eyes looked into hers, his hard, beautiful mouth a breath away.

And then he spoke and his voice was no longer smooth and silky, nor was it gentle and nor was it coaxing. It was hard, low and full of steel and it surged through her like it was alive and breathing.

“I’ve lost eight years of you. Eight years. I don’t know what you’ve suffered in those years but you’ve got the rest of our lives to tell me and I have that time to make it up to you,” he stated firmly then went on. “This, Lily, I assure you I’ll do.”

It took every bit of willpower she had not to let his words penetrate her armour. Her hands had been forced away from his stomach when he pulled her to him and now she clutched the fabric of his shirt at his waist, pushing it back as hard as she could.

“You’ve made me promises before, Nate,” she reminded him heatedly.

“I know,” he ground out, his eyes still drilling into hers.

“You broke those promises.”

He didn’t hesitate and he didn’t deny it. “I know.”

She glared, waiting for him to go on, to say something, anything that would make it better.

He didn’t.

“We’re over!” she yelled hysterically, she couldn’t take much more.

“We haven’t even begun,” he promised.

“I’m not going through it again!” she cried, lost in her panic, lost in her fears. Her anger had flashed and as usual was quickly gone and now she only wished for escape.

Her life may not have been the heaven it had seemed to be when she’d been with Nate so long ago, but it was a good life, a contented life and she wanted it back.

“You won’t have to,” Nate barked, shocking her by losing his own temper. He was no longer cool and casual. He was in the throes of his own personal storm. She should have acceded to the force of it for it filled the room, pressed into her like a slab of marble. But she didn’t, she couldn’t, there was too much to lose.

“I don’t believe you,” she accused.

“Fine. Don’t believe me. But our daughter has two parents and for the rest of her life she’s going to enjoy both of them. Together. She’s going to enjoy the safety of a loving home, her parents living together, taking care of her. Not shuttled back and forth. Not being forced to adjust to two homes, two lives. You saw her when she found us together. You know she wants it.”

“You can’t have everything you want, believe me, Nate, I know.” His eyes narrowed dangerously at her words but recklessly she went on. “It’s a difficult lesson to learn but she might as well learn it early, rather than to grow up a hopeless dreamer like her mother and get crushed somewhere along the way.”

She could have sworn his face registered the barest flinch but he continued.

“You can’t tell me, given the power to offer her what she most desires, you wouldn’t move heaven and earth to do it,” he bit out.

“She’ll adjust,” Lily snapped even though he was, unfortunately, right.

Lily
would
move heaven and earth to give Tash what she wanted but just then she wasn’t giving an inch.

“She’ll be devastated,” Nate correctly predicted.

“You don’t know her enough to make that judgement,” Lily aimed at her target and hit a bull’s-eye. She knew this because his eyes started glittering angrily and she knew his control was stretched nearly to the breaking point.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he clipped. “You’re not magnificent when you’re angry. You’re incredibly annoying and unbelievably stubborn when you’re angry.”

“I’m not stubborn!” she denied stubbornly.

His face, if it could be credited, moved closer and he changed tactics so swiftly, her head began to swim.

“You want me, Lily, and you know it.”

“I don’t!” Even she knew it was a lie.

“You want me,” he stated baldly, “shall I prove it to you?”

Frantic, because she knew what was coming, she threatened, “Kiss me again and I won’t be responsible for what I do.”

“I know
exactly
what you’ll do.”

And, without giving her the opportunity to retort, his lips crushed down on hers.

This time she didn’t hold herself stock-still. This time she struggled, fought, pushed against him and tried to pull away. She clawed at his sides, tearing at the fabric of his shirt.

His tongue touched her lips and a lone gymnast executed a perfect round-off and her whole body stilled at the sudden glory of it.

As usual, he immediately sensed her capitulation. Surprisingly, he pulled away but not enough to allow her escape. Instead, he half-carried, half-dragged her to the sofa and before she could make good a getaway, he pushed her backwards onto it and his heavy, warm body landed on top of her.

“Stop, Nate,” she demanded, scrambling beneath him

“No,” he refused and before she could say another word, his mouth came down on hers again.

His mouth was not gentle. It was hard, insistent, demanding. It was also familiar. It was also exactly what she’d wanted, wished for and dreamed of for eight years.

Not another man had touched her. She’d been on a handful of dates without even a goodnight kiss (well, perhaps, a peck on the cheek). Lily had been too wrapped up in her life, her problems, her responsibilities. She didn’t have time for men.

And no one compared to Nate. It was a simple statement of fact.

His mouth moved to trail down her cheek to her jaw.

“Please stop,” she whispered on a plea. Her anger was gone, replaced by longing, eight terrible, lonely years of longing.

“No.”

“Please, Nate,” she begged.

In answer, his hand moved on her leg, smoothing a caress all the way up her thigh, pulling her skirt up with it, her skin quivering at his intimate touch.

His hard body pressed against her, so familiar, so warm, almost fevered. She wasn’t going to be able to deny her body much longer the attention it craved.

“We can’t,” she pleaded.

“We can,” he growled against her throat, the rumble of his voice moving through her until she shivered.

He felt it, she knew, he couldn’t help but feel it and his mouth came back to hers and he kissed her again.

This time she didn’t struggle. The minute his lips touched hers, they parted and his tongue slid inside.

And that was it. She lost her battle and she acquiesced as the gymnastics team in her belly, warmed up and ready to go, gave the performance of their life.

Eight years of grief and yearning poured out of her and she kissed him back, her tongue warring with his, her hands moving on his body, roaming over his back, down his hips, sliding over his behind. She’d forgotten how hard his body was, the tough sinew under his silken skin. She tore at his shirt, wanting the feel of him with nothing in the way. Once free of his jeans, her hands delved underneath the shirt to trail across his waist and up his back.

His skin was burning to the touch.

It was too much, too soon. The tears came up the back of her throat, burning as her body burned under his touch.

His mouth never left hers, delivering its heady kiss, but one of his hands went to her breast, cupping it, finding her nipple with the pad of his thumb. She gasped against his mouth at the feel of him there, powerful shafts of pleasure shot straight through her.

At her gasp, his kiss deepened and what was already wild became wilder. Years of grief changed to relief that he was alive, breathing, with her again, touching her again, kissing her again.

This time,
her
hands and mouth became insistent, demanding, her fingers rushing across his skin, under his shirt, one of them moving to his belly, down, until she felt him hard against the palm of her hand.

The tears sprang from her eyes, falling silently along her temples as he tore his mouth from hers on a groan at her touch, his mouth gliding to her ear.

“Do you still want to stop?” His voice was rough with arousal but he sounded as if he wanted a response. As if he’d move away if that was what she desired.

She didn’t answer, couldn’t answer.

His hand tightened at her breast, his thumb swirling provocatively.

“Stop me now, Lily, it’ll be your only chance.”

Still unable to speak, she shook her head and Nate didn’t hesitate. His mouth took hers in another searing kiss as both of his hands moved to her hips, pressing her against him, her hand, still between them, forced intimately flat against his arousal.

Just as quickly as he did it, he released her hips, his mouth and tongue everywhere, sliding down her throat, to her ear, along her collarbone, the edge of her bodice. He bent his head as one hand yanked her skirt up over her hips and without delay his hand went between her legs as his mouth closed over her sensitised nipple. He was doing both through her clothing, his teeth and tongue working sensuously at her nipple over her dress, his fingers pressing against her panties, using the silky fabric as tantalising friction, and her body, already breathlessly alive at his touch, started vibrating.

“Nate,” she breathed in wonder.

She’d forgotten how glorious it was. She thought she remembered but she’d forgotten.

He surged up again, his mouth against hers, his hand moved up to the edge of her underwear and then it plunged in.

“I’ve been waiting eight years to hear you say my name like that again.”

Her breath caught at his words, the husky tone of wanting in his voice, as his finger found her and circled deliciously. She was clutching at him as the lusty spirals shot out from between her legs, his lips still touching hers but he didn’t kiss her.

“Say it again,” he demanded.

Her eyes had closed to concentrate on what her body was feeling and at his demand, they flew open and his black gaze was boring into her.

“Say it again, Lily,” he commanded.

She bit her lip and his hand moved, his finger slowly, beautifully, slid inside her and at the feel of him filling her again, even just his finger, she couldn’t help herself.

“Nate.”

His mouth came down on hers hard as his hand worked at her and she pressed against it, kissing him back with desperate wanting.

Then, without warning, his head jerked up and his hand, his thumb at the core of her, one finger deep inside her, completely stilled.

“Jesus,” he cursed, his hand moving swiftly but gently away from her, making her moan in pleasure mingled with disappointment.

He surged up lithely, pulling her along with him. She was dazed with passion, her legs trembling so badly she had to lean against him and hold onto his waist.

“Nate,” she whispered uncertainly as one of his arms held her steady, the other hand yanked the skirt of her dress back in place.

His head came up at the sound of his name and he looked into her face, a satisfied grin playing about his mouth. His face, too, was still set with passion and at the sight of it, she sucked in her breath.

Briefly, he pressed his lips against hers.

Then he murmured, “Someone’s coming.”

And before this frightening thought could penetrate her desire fogged brain, before she could get her buckling knees under control, before she could break away from him, the door flew open and Fazire was standing there.

Her old friend froze two steps into the room and took in the vision of Lily clinging to Nate and Nate holding onto Lily.

Fazire glared at them in horror.

Before he could utter a word, Natasha forged into the room.

“What’s up?” she asked innocently, smiling happily at her mother and father standing together, seemingly the loving, embracing couple.

Lily was still recovering. Both fortunately and unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it, Nate was faster at his recovery and without hesitation he explained, his voice still slightly husky with desire.

“Your mother was just thanking me for the room.”

With this, Nate’s arm tightened around her waist before she could begin to pull away. Lily watched as Fazire’s face turned as purple as the walls in his bedroom.

Natasha had no problem processing this explanation. It was, indeed, quite natural that Lily would wish to thank Nate soundly for his thoughtful gesture.

“Are we going out to dinner or what?” Natasha asked, her head tilting to the side. “I’m hungry,” she went on in explanation before her mother could take her to task for her somewhat rude question.

Nate’s head swung to look at Lily.

“Are we?” he asked softly and his lips turned up at the corners because, with one look at the soft gaze Lily was giving their daughter, he already knew the answer.