Wilde for Him (27 page)

"You're Christine Delacroix, the one who owns The Big Event, right?" she asked, smiling warmly as she extended her hand toward Christine. "I'm Mia Wilde."

"Oh!" Christine's eyes widened with genuine delight as she shook the other woman's hand. "After talking on the phone so many times, it's a pleasure to finally meet you in person. This gives me the opportunity to thank you face-to-face for your donation to the Children's AIDS Foundation auction. And call me Christy, please."

"I was happy to be a part of the charity auction," Mia said as she shifted the squirming baby in her arms. "The high bidder for the stained glass design contacted me this week, so I'll be starting their design pretty soon."

"That's wonderful." Christine smiled at the little dark-haired baby peeking from the pink blanket she was wrapped up in. "And who is that?"

Mia beamed like the proud new mother she was. "This is my three-month-old daughter, Sophie, the latest addition to the ever-growing Wilde family."

"She's beautiful," Christine said softly. "Do you mind if I hold her?"

"Are you kidding me?" Mia laughed and happily handed over the little girl. "I'd love the break. She's like carrying around a thirteen-pound weight."

Christine gazed down at the cherubic face staring back up at her. "She's a very lucky girl to be surrounded by so much family."

"Yes, though having a very large family can be a curse, too," Mia said wryly, and Ben knew she was referring to her very overprotective brothers and cousins. "But mostly it is a blessing."

"Hey, I've been looking for you." Cameron, Mia's husband, came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "The DJ is playing our song."

Mia tipped her head and listened to the tune, then frowned at Cameron. "This isn't our song. I don't even think we have a song."

"Then consider this one it." He gave her an irresistible grin. "It's a slow song, someone else is holding the baby, and I want to dance with my wife."

Christine waved her free hand at the couple. "Go right ahead. I'll watch Sophie."

"Are you sure?" Mia asked, though it was clear to see that she'd welcome the opportunity to enjoy a slow dance with her husband.

"I'm absolutely sure," Christine said, encouraging her to go. "I love babies and she's very sweet."

"Come on, let's go before she realizes that Sophie is just fooling her." Cameron grabbed Mia's hand and pulled her toward the patio.

"She is a good baby," Mia said from over her shoulder as her husband dragged her away.

Once the couple was gone, Christine pulled the blanket a bit looser to see more of the baby. Sophie was wearing a frilly pink dress for the occasion of seeing her uncle Joel get married, and her little arms flailed wildly as they were freed from the covers. Christine laughed and pressed her pinky into the baby's palm, and Sophie latched on to the finger and cooed.

An affectionate smile curved Christine's lips as she glanced up at him. "Would you like to hold her?"

Ben held up both of his hands, not sure how to handle such a little wriggling thing like Sophie. "No, it's okay. You're doing a great job with her."

Christine went back to talking to the baby in a low, gentle tone, and the infant girl stared up at her in mesmerized awe. There was something about seeing Christine like this—the tender look on her face, the maternal, nurturing instincts in play—that struck a chord deep inside of Ben.

Marriage. Family. Babies. A sense of complete and utter contentment. He'd almost had that once with Kim. They'd talked about all those things, along with envisioning a future that had seemed so hopeful and promising, and filled with all the things that had been missing from his own life for so long.

Those bright, aspiring dreams had died with Kim. And so had a big part of him. His heart and emotions hadn't been the same since that fateful day in Iraq when he'd held his dying fiancée in his arms.

But as he watched Christine bond with the tiny baby in her arms, he knew that someday, when the right person came along, this woman would make some lucky guy a wonderful wife and mother.

Unfortunately, that man wouldn't be him.

Chapter Fourteen

HOURS later, Ben followed Christine into her house and switched on the light in the living room. She turned around to face him, her high-heeled shoes dangling from her fingertips, and a soft, contented smile on her lips.

"I really had a nice time today… and tonight," she added, since the reception and celebration had lasted until nearly ten.

"So did Jon and Kevin," he replied good-naturedly as he slipped his hands into his pants' pockets. "They sure kept you busy out on the dance floor."

She laughed and curled her bare toes into the carpet. "They're nice guys. All of them. And they don't do a thing for me," she assured him. Closing the distance between the two of them, she placed a hand on his chest, her eyes an extraordinary shade of blue. "Except they do make me laugh. A lot. And that's not a bad thing considering my life lately."

"I definitely agree with that."

"I hope you don't mind that I invited them to my birthday party at Envy next week. They'll definitely keep the guests entertained."

He grinned. "I can't argue with that."

She tipped her head, causing her tousled hair to fall to one side. "How about you? Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah, I did." He'd spent most of the day watching Christine—mingling with his friends, interacting with the guests, holding Mia's daughter, Sophie. He thought about those high heels she'd worn for hours, her energy out on the dance floor, and the few yawns she'd tried to hide on the drive home, and knew she had to be worn out. "You must be exhausted."

"My feet are a bit sore, but I'm actually wide awake." She started toward her bedroom, then stopped and looked over her shoulder at him, a come-hither look in her eyes. "I need a little help getting my dress off. Care to help?"

Since the dress was made of a stretchy kind of material, and there was no zipper, taking it off was just a matter of pulling it over her head—and that certainly didn't require his assistance. But her sweet smile was filled with the kind of pure, shameless temptation that made him weak in the knees and unable to resist anything about her. Knowing he'd be a fool to refuse since he only had a few more nights to spend with her, he took Christine's hand and followed her back to her master bedroom.

After today, his emotions felt as though they were in an upheaval that he couldn't quite sort out. He knew and understood that their affair was a temporary deal—she'd made that clear from the beginning. Having just broken off an engagement and still dealing with the wrath of her mother, Christine wasn't looking for anything permanent. And now, she was getting a taste for being independent and out from under Audrey's thumb, and he knew she loved that newfound freedom.

As for him, he'd never fit into Christine's life long-term, at least not comfortably considering their opposite lifestyles. Hell, he didn't even know if he could give her everything she deserved emotionally from a relationship—he wasn't sure he had it in him anymore. Between the wrenching realization that his mother had walked out on him when he was a boy, never to be heard from again, to losing Kim and even other comrades he'd befriended in the war, he felt all tapped out.

But he couldn't deny that he wanted her. Desired her. And ultimately, he cared deeply for her, and those were key elements when it came to being with Christine. The bedroom was the one place they were equal and completely compatible, in every way. It was their own private world where no one existed but the two of them and a wealth of passion.

When they reached her room, she tossed her shoes aside and turned back toward him. With only the soft glow of the nightstand light illuminating them, she met his gaze and silently began unbuttoning his shirt. Needing to taste her, he delved his fingers into her hair and tipped her head back as he lowered his head until their lips meshed and their tongues mated.

Slowly, leisurely, they undressed one another. Clothing fell to the floor in a haphazard mess, until they were both naked. Between soft, soulful kisses, hands wandered, touched and caressed bare flesh, increasing the level of arousal simmering between them. His fingers glided across her breasts, trailed down her belly, and eventually found their way between her supple thighs, where she was so soft and slick and sensitive. He stroked her, and she gasped into his mouth… moaned her approval as he brought her close to orgasm… then she made a small, mewling sound of protest when he stopped short of giving her what her body ached for.

Needing to be inside of her when she climaxed, and wanting to watch her expression as she came for him, he ended the kiss, pushed her down onto the bed, and settled to his knees between her spread legs. He glided his palms down her quivering thighs, and slid the pads of his thumbs through her weeping flesh.

Her hands fisted into the covers, and her hips moved against the feather-light touch of his fingers. "Stop teasing me," she said, half-laughing.

He grinned, loving how playful she could be, even when she was so aroused. As for him, his erection jutted out from his groin, hot and hard, more than ready to give her what she wanted.

"I need a condom," he said, and started to reach toward the nightstand, where she kept a supply.

She grabbed his arm, stopping him before he could pull the drawer open and retrieve one of the foil packets. "Not tonight."

He pulled back and stared down at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I'm on the pill," she said, and bit on her lower lip with a bit of uncertainty, and a whole lot of vulnerability that told Ben just how much she trusted him. "I know that using a condom is the safe way to go, but I'm good healthwise."

"Me, too," he said, and moved back to the spot between her legs, his gaze taking in the way she was laid out before him, his for the taking. "Are you sure about this?"

She nodded. "More sure than I've been about anything in a very long time. I want to feel you inside of me, all of you, without a condom to take away any of the sensation."

The thought of having all that wet heat wrapped around his cock, with absolutely nothing between them, made him shudder with anticipation, lust, and desire. Crawling up and over her body, he pushed her thighs farther apart as his hips nestled intimately against hers, and the tip of his shaft probed at her damp entrance.

When she realized what he intended, she splayed a hand on his chest to keep him from making that final downward thrust into her. "What are you doing?" she asked, her eyes wide.

He smiled. "I'm making love to you." The words slipped out of him without censor, but they felt more right than wrong.

She appeared startled for a moment because they'd always referred to what was between them as sex, but then she quickly recovered. "No missionary position, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember." He dropped a kiss on her nose, then took both of her hands, entwined their fingers, and pinned them next to her head so she couldn't use them at all. So that she'd have no choice but to just feel. "But sometimes, the missionary position can be good," he murmured huskily. "Very good."

Her lashes fell to half-mast, and her body softened beneath his. "Show me," she whispered.

He lowered himself completely over her, aligning them from chest to thighs. His jaw tensed as he slowly slid inside of her, then leisurely pulled out again, until just the head of his penis filled her. He entered her once more, this time all the way to the base of his shaft, and moaned as the slick friction dragging along his bare cock provided the most exquisite sensation—one that threatened to make him come way too quickly if he wasn't careful.

He dropped his head to the crook of her neck, his breath dampening her skin, and for the longest time he didn't move, enjoying the warmth surrounding him.

She squirmed restlessly, impatiently, beneath him, a silent plea for him to move.

"Wrap your legs around my waist. Christy," he rasped into her ear.

She did as he asked, and he groaned when he felt her soft, slender thighs hugging his hips. The intimate position lifted her pelvis higher, allowed for a deeper penetration that made her gasp. He tried to savor everything about being inside of her this way, but the temptation was just too great, and when she arched beneath him so that he rubbed against her clitoris, which heightened her pleasure, he couldn't stop the instinctive need to push harder, deeper. He eased back, almost to the point of withdrawal, then tunneled his way back inside with a purposeful stroke.

Their rhythm was slow at first, and he concentrated on the scent of her hair, the heated vanilla fragrance still clinging to her skin, the feel of her fingers curling tight against his. Anything but the building, pulsing pressure in his groin.

Hungry for the taste of her, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her with aggression and greed. God, she was so sweet, he thought. So beautiful, and generous, and responsive. He rolled his hips hard against hers, then plunged faster, then faster still, until she was moaning beneath the crush of his lips and he knew she was close to climaxing.

He lifted his head, and as he continued to drive into her tight, moist flesh, he watched her. Pleasure suffused her expression and she looked up at him through passion-glazed eyes, her lips pink and swollen from his kisses. She sucked in a breath, and her eyes rolled back as her orgasm began rippling through her, the feel of her tensing and fluttering around his cock more than enough to finally push him over the edge.

With a hoarse shout, he came inside of her in a blinding rush of heat that sizzled along his nerve endings. His body shook as his orgasm peaked and then subsided. When it was over, he dropped his head to her shoulder, unable to discount the overwhelming sense of completion washing over him.

"That was good," she said on a breathy sigh. "Very good."

Smiling, he turned his head, and pressed his lips to her hair, her cheek, then kissed her slow and deep. He wanted to hold onto this moment, and her, forever… but knew, and accepted, that it wasn't meant to be.