Passionate Pregnancies: Enticed by His Forgotten Lover / Wanted by Her Lost Love / Tempted by Her Innocent Kiss

Fourteen

“Comfortable?” Rafael asked as he plumped a pillow behind Bryony’s back.

Bryony reclined on the wicker patio lounger. She smiled up at Rafael and sighed. It was an absolutely beautiful day as only a fall day could be on the island. Still quite warm but without the oppressive heat and humidity of summer. The skies were brilliant blue, unmarred by a single cloud, and the salt-scented air danced on her nose as the soft music of the distant waves hummed in her ears.

“You’re spoiling me,” she said. “But by all means keep on. I’m not opposed in the least.”

He sat at the opposite end of the lounger and pulled her feet into his lap. He toyed with the ankle bracelet and then traced a finger over the arch of her foot.

“You have beautiful feet.”

She shot him a skeptical look. “You think my feet are beautiful?”

“Well, yes, and you draw attention to them and your ankles with this piece of jewelry. I like it. You have great legs, too. A complete package.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had my feet propped on a gorgeous guy’s lap while he does an analysis of my legs and ankles before. It makes me feel all queenly.”

He began to press his thumb into her arch with just enough force to make her moan.

“Isn’t that how a man should make the mother of his child feel? Like a queen?”

“Oh, God, you’re killing me. Sure, in theory, but how many guys really do? Of course, I’ve never been pregnant before so how would I know?”

He laughed. “I think you’re supposed to pick up on the fact that I’m embracing this child as our child. Our creation. Together. I know it seems I’ve ignored his or her presence. We haven’t discussed your pregnancy much, but I’ve thought of little else since I found out. It’s kept me up at night. I lay there thinking how ill-prepared I am to be a father and yet I have this eager anticipation that eats at me. I start to wonder who the baby will look like. Whether it will be a son or a daughter.”

Tears crowded her eyes and she felt like an idiot. But there was no doubt the longing in his voice hit her right in the heart and softened it into mush.

“Why do you think you’re ill-prepared to be a father?” she asked softly.

He closed both hands around her foot and rubbed his thumbs up and down the bottom, pressing and massaging the sole, then moving up to her arch and on to the pads below her toes.

“I work to the exclusion of all else. I never go anywhere that I don’t bring work with me. Most of my social events are work-related. There are times I sleep at my office. Just as many times I sleep on a plane en route to a meeting or to scope out a location for a new development. A child needs the attention of his parent. He needs their love and support. All I can really do is provide financially.”

“I said this once already but you don’t have to stay the same person just because that’s who you’ve always been. Parents make changes for their children all the time. I’m not any more prepared for parenthood than you are. I always imagined I’d wait until I was older.”

He arched a brow. “Just how old are you? You make it sound like you’re some teenager.”

She laughed. “I’m twenty-five. Plenty old to have children but since until a few months ago I haven’t had a serious relationship, and by serious I mean thinking of marriage and commitment, et cetera. I knew that having children was still some years away.”

“It would seem we’re both going to be handed parenthood before we thought we were ready.”

“But would we really ever say we were ready? I mean who just announces one day, ‘Okay, I’m ready for children’? I think even people who plan their pregnancies still have to be a little unprepared for the changes that occur with the arrival of a child.”

“You’re probably right. I think you’d make a great mother, though.”

She cocked her head, flushed with pleasure at the compliment. “That means a lot that you’d say that, Rafael, but what makes you think so? I haven’t exactly shown a lot of responsibility to this point.”

“You are a loving and affectionate woman. Warm, spontaneous. Loyal and generous. And you’re direct. You had no qualms about taking me on when you thought I’d wronged you. I can only imagine how fierce you would be in protection of our child.”

“Do you know why I think you’d make a great father?”

His hands stilled on her foot and he glanced up at her.

“Because you admit your shortcomings,” she said gently. “You know your faults. You acknowledge them. You’re well aware of the areas where you’d need to change. Most people aren’t that self-aware. I have no doubt that you’d be sensitive to your child’s needs and make adjustments. There’s nothing you can say to convince me that you wouldn’t absolutely put your child first in your priorities.”

He slid one hand up her leg to snag her fingers and then he squeezed. “Thank you for that.”

“I still love you, Rafael.”

The words slipped out. They were an ache in her heart that she had to let loose. Here in this moment, it was more than she could take, even though she’d sworn she wouldn’t make herself vulnerable again until they had resolved his memory loss and their relationship. She simply had to tell him how she felt.

His eyes darkened. His hands were no longer gentle as he roughly pulled her up and toward him. She sprawled indelicately across his lap as he framed her face in his grasp. For a long moment, he stroked her cheek as he stared into her eyes.

Then he leaned his forehead against hers in a surprisingly tender gesture as he gathered her hand in his, trapped it between their chests.

“I had no idea how I’d feel when I asked you if you still love me yesterday. It was an idle curiosity. I had no idea the impact those words would make. I can’t even explain it. How can I?”

“I had to tell you,” she whispered. “I’ve been honest. I don’t want to hold anything back. It’s hard for me. I’m unused to being reserved. You deserve to know the truth. You’re here. You’re making the effort. The least I can do is meet you halfway. It was my pride that held me back before. I didn’t want to humble myself or make myself vulnerable to you again, but holding back the words doesn’t change anything.”

He lowered his head and kissed her, forgoing his earlier gentle and playful smooches. His lips moved heatedly over hers, dragging breath from her then returning it, demanding it.

He tasted of the lemonade he’d served with the lunch he’d prepared. Tart and sweet and so hot. He licked over the seam of her mouth then plunged inward again as if determined to taste every part of her.

Always before, his lovemaking had seemed practiced and deliberate. Smooth and seductive. Now there was a desperation to his every caress and kiss, like he couldn’t wait to touch her or to have her. Even as the differences plagued her, she gave herself over to this seemingly new man. It felt different. He was different.

“I want to make love to you, Bryony, but I want it to be for the right reasons. I want you to know I want you for the right reasons. Right now I couldn’t care less about the past or what I do or don’t remember. What I know is that right here, right now, I want to touch you and kiss you more than I want anything else.”

As gracefully as she could manage when her legs and hands were shaking, she got off his lap to stand before him. Then she reached down for his hand and slid her fingers through his.

“I want you, too,” she said simply. “I’ve missed you so much, Rafe.”

He rose unsteadily, his eyes dark and vibrant with desire. His usually calm composure seemed shaken and he raised a trembling hand to her cheek.

“Be sure of this, Bryony. Whatever happens today, whatever has happened in the past, what I remember or don’t remember—it’s not going to matter if you give yourself to me again. Now. If we do this now, we’re starting over. New page. Fresh beginning.”

She rubbed her cheek over his hand and closed her eyes. “I’d like that. No past. Just today. Here and now. You and me.”

He wrapped an arm around her and urged her toward the door. They stumbled inside the cottage and she guided him toward her bedroom. Past the guest room where he’d slept the night before. Back to the place where they’d spent so many hours making love in the past.

He closed the door and she stood in front of him, suddenly shy and unsure. Though she’d made love with him countless times before, it seemed new. He seemed different. Maybe she herself was even different.

And then she laughed.

Her laughter startled him. He looked up and cocked his head to the side. “What’s so funny?”

She closed her eyes and shook her head ruefully. “I was standing here thinking that this felt like the first time and I’m so terribly nervous but then I thought how ridiculous that was when I’m pregnant with your child, a testament to the fact that it’s far from the first time for us.”

His expression softened and he pulled her gently into his arms. “In a lot of ways this is our first time. I think we should treat it as such. I know I plan to reacquaint myself with your body. I want to touch and see every part of you. There’ll be no rushing. I want to savor every moment and draw it out until we’re both crazy.”

She swayed toward him, feeling light-headed, as if she were a little drunk. He caught her to him and carefully walked her back until she met with the edge of the bed.

Silently he began to unbutton her shirt, taking his time as he worked down her body. When he was done, he carefully parted the lapels and pushed back and over her shoulders so that the material fell away and she stood in her jeans and bra.

“Pretty and delicate,” he said as he fingered the lace that cupped the swell of her breast. “A lot like you. It suits you. I like you in pink.”

“You don’t fancy a siren in red or black?” she asked with a grin.

“No. Not at all. I like the softness of pink and how feminine it looks on you. Very girly.”

He lowered his head to kiss the bare expanse of skin that peeked above the cup and then nuzzled lower, pushing down the lace ever so slightly until he was just a breath from her taut nipple.

Then he drew away. “I like girly.”

“You are a tease,” she said in a strained voice.

He reached down to unbutton her pants, loosening them and then pulling them down just enough to bare the swell of her belly.

To her utter shock, he went to his knees and molded her stomach with both hands. He gently caressed the bump and then pressed a kiss to her flesh.

It was an exquisitely tender moment and an image she’d never forget as long as she lived. This proud, arrogant man on his knees in front of her, lavishing attention on their baby—and her.

She gazed down, lovingly running her fingers through his dark hair. He stared up at her and the look in his eyes made her catch her breath.

Then he tugged at her jeans and slowly rolled them over her hips and down her legs. When they pooled at her feet, he lifted one leg, his hands sliding up and down in a sensual caress. He tugged the material free and then lifted her other foot to completely remove the jeans.

“Matching lacy pink,” he said just before pressing a kiss to the V of her underwear. “I like it. I like it a lot.”

Her legs trembled and butterflies fluttered through her veins, around her chest and up into her throat.

She wasn’t self-conscious about her pregnant body as many women were. In fact, she liked the newfound lushness of her curves. In a lot of ways she’d never looked better. Her skin glowed with a healthy sheen. Her breasts had grown larger and she was fascinated by the shape of her expanding abdomen.

She hadn’t really considered being worried over Rafael’s reaction to the changes in her body. If she had, she would have worried in vain because he seemed entranced. Nothing in his actions told her he found her anything but desirable.

“You’re beautiful,” he said in a raw voice, almost as if he’d been privy to her thoughts.

Slowly he rose, sliding his hands up her body as he straightened to stand in front of her. Then he tangled his fingers in her hair and fit his mouth to hers.

She struggled for air but wouldn’t retreat long enough to take a breath. She took every bit as much as he did, demanding more in return.

There was something markedly different between them. Their lovemaking had always been casual. Fun, a little flirty and laid-back. The Rafael who stood before her now was … different. It was in the way he looked at her, so dark and forbidding, as if he were set to devour her. As if he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted another woman.

Fanciful but there was definitely nothing casual about the way he touched and kissed her.

She liked the new Rafael. He was commanding and yet gentle and loving. Reverent.

He cupped one hand around her nape, his fingers pressing possessively on her neck as he pulled her into another bone-melting kiss. Then he nibbled a path down her jaw to her ear and sucked the lobe into his mouth. Each tug sent pulsating waves of desire low into her pelvis. Her muscles clenched and she tensed as a whispery sigh floated from her lips.

His mouth never leaving the sensitive column of her throat, he slipped his arms underneath hers and hoisted her upward so he could lift her onto the bed. He lowered her then hovered over her, his denim-clad knee sliding between her thighs.

He kissed her again, then reached up to brush the hair from her forehead, his touch so light and caressing that it sent a thrill coursing through her veins.

Once more he brushed his mouth across hers as if he hated to leave her even for the time it would take him to undress. But he stepped back and the fact that his hands shook as he pulled at his T-shirt endeared him to her all the more.

He stripped the shirt off, the muscles rippling across his chest and shoulders. He tossed it aside and then began undoing the fly of his jeans. She nearly moaned when he pulled both jeans and underwear down in one impatient shove.

The man was sexy. Cut like a flawless gem. Toned. Fit. Lean but not too lean. He had enough bulk that told of his workout regimen.

Her gaze drifted downward to his groin and she sighed her appreciation as his erection jutted upward. Impatient for him to return to her, she shifted and leaned up on her elbows so she could better see him.

But then he was crawling back onto the bed, straddling her body. He put the flat of his palm on her chest and gently pushed her down onto the mattress. Then he carefully slipped the straps of her bra off her shoulders, nudging until the cups released her breasts.

He lifted her just enough that he could fit one hand underneath to unhook her bra and then he pulled it away and tossed it onto the floor.

For a long moment he stared down at her, his gaze drifting up and down her body then focusing on her, their eyes catching and holding.

“I’m burning the image of you into my memory,” he said in a husky voice. “I don’t want to ever forget again. I can’t imagine how I ever did to begin with. What man when presented with such beauty could possibly let such a memory of it escape?”

Her heart went all fluttery again. It was hard to breathe around him. When he wasn’t sending shivers of delight over her flesh with his touch, he sent ripples of pleasure through her heart with his words.

“Kiss me,” she begged softly.

“Just as soon as I’ve taken the last of your pink girly underwear off,” he said with a smile.

His fingers danced down her sides and hooked into the lacy band of her panties and he tugged, moving backward as he pulled them down her legs.

This time he moved up the side of her and curled his arms around her, pulling her against him so her naked flesh met his. It was a shock. A delicious, decadent thrill. His hardness was cupped intimately in the V of her legs and her breasts pressed against the slightly hair-roughened surface of his chest.

As he kissed her, his hand roamed possessively down her back and over the swell of her buttocks and then around to cup her belly before drifting lower into the damp, sensitive flesh between her legs.

She moaned and arched forward as his fingers found her most sensitive points. His erection slid between her slightly parted legs, burning, rigid, branding her flesh.

She wanted him inside her, a part of her, after being so long without him. She stirred restlessly, clinging to him, spreading her legs wider to encourage him to take her.

He smiled against her mouth. “So impatient. I’m not nearly finished yet, little love. I want to make you crazy with pleasure before I make you mine again. So crazy that you’ll scream my name when I slide into your warmth.”

“I want you,” she whispered. “So much, Rafe. I missed you. Missed holding you like this. Missed having you touch me.”

He drew away and regarded her, his expression so serious that it touched something deep inside her. “I think somehow that I’ve missed you, too, Bryony. A part of me has. I don’t think I could be so happy so quickly with you if we hadn’t known each other before, if we hadn’t been … close. Lovers. You feel so perfect next to me. I feel like I’ve opened the door into someone else’s life because this feels nothing like mine and yet I want it so badly I can taste it. I can feel it.”

She reached up and tugged him down into a kiss, so moved by his words that her heart felt near to bursting.

“I don’t want to wait. I need you now, Rafe. Please. Be inside me. Let me feel you.”

He leaned over her body, pressing into her, his heat enveloping her. She savored the sensation of being mushed beneath him, of inhaling his scent so deeply that she could almost taste him.

“Are you sure you’re ready, Bryony?”

Even as he spoke, he slid one finger inside her and rolled his thumb across her clitoris. She closed her eyes and gripped his arms until her fingers felt bloodless.

“Please,” she whispered again.

He positioned himself and pushed the tiniest bit forward until he was barely inside.

“Open your eyes. Look at me, Bryony. Let me see you.”

Her eyelids fluttered open and she met his gaze, so dark and sensual.

He slid forward again, just a bit, stroking her insides with fire. He seemed determined to draw out their reunion, to make it last.

She let her hands wander down his sides and she caressed up and down, encouraging him to complete the act.

He leaned down until their noses brushed and then he angled his mouth over hers just as he slid the rest of the way inside her welcoming body.

Tears burned her eyes. The knot in her throat was such that she couldn’t speak. She didn’t have words anyway to describe the sensation of being back with the man she loved after having thought she’d lost him.

He withdrew and thrust again, his mouth never leaving hers. He breathed her. She breathed him. Their tongues tangled, stroked and coaxed.

He let his body descend on her and planted his forearms into the mattress so that she wasn’t completely bearing his weight as his hips rocked against hers.

It was much like the ocean waves, rolling forward then receding. Gentle and yet building in intensity. He was patient, much more patient than he’d ever been.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” he said against her mouth. “Or if I’m too heavy for you.”

In answer she wrapped both arms around him and hugged him tight. She slid one hand down to cup his firm buttocks as he undulated his hips against her.

“Tell me what you need,” he whispered. “Tell me how to please you, Bryony.”

Her hands ran up his back to his shoulders and then one slid to his nape, her fingers thrusting upward into his hair.

“You’re doing just fine,” she said dreamily. “I feel like I’m floating.”

He dropped his head to suck lightly at her neck and then he nibbled to the curve of her shoulder and sucked again, harder this time until she was sure he’d leave a mark.

She hadn’t had such a mark since she was a teenager, but strangely it thrilled her that she would have a reminder of his possession.

He groaned. “I’m sorry, Bryony. I can’t—Damn it.” He issued several more muffled curses that ended in a long moan as he increased his pace.

As soon as the intensity changed, the orgasm that had begun as a lazy, slow build escalated into a sharp coiling burn low in her abdomen. It rose and spread until she gasped at the tension.

She dug her fingers into his back, not knowing how else to handle the mounting pressure. She arched her buttocks off the bed, pushing him deeper inside her. He tensed and shuddered against her, reaching fulfillment while she was still reaching blindly for her own.

He pulled from her body, rolled to the side and slid his hand between her legs, caressing and stroking her taut flesh. He lowered his head to her breast and sucked her nipple into his mouth, laving it with his tongue as he pressed another finger inside.

His thumb rolled over her clitoris, his fingers worked deep and his mouth tugged relentlessly at her breast. Her surroundings blurred and the coiling tension suddenly snapped, unraveling at super speed.

“Rafael!”

Her back came off the mattress and her hand went to his hair, gripping, her fingers curling into his nape as she went rigid underneath him.

Her release was sharp. It was sweet. It was intense. It was one of the most shattering experiences of her life. She was left clinging to him, saying his name over and over incoherently as she came down.

He continued to stroke her, more gently than before, sweetly and comfortingly as she settled beneath him, her body quivering and shaking like she’d experienced a great shock.

Her mind couldn’t quite put it all together yet. All she knew was that it had never been this way between them before. She was … shattered. There was no other way to put it. And completely and utterly vulnerable before him. Bare. Stripped.

He gathered her close, holding her tightly as they both fought for breath. His hands seemed to be everywhere. Caressing. Touching. Soothing. He kissed her hair, her temple, her cheek and even her eyelids.

The one thing that seemed to penetrate the haze that surrounded her was that however undone she was, he’d been equally affected.

She wrapped herself around him as tightly as he was wound around her, snuggled her face into the hollow of his neck and drifted into a fuzzy sleep, so sated that she couldn’t have moved if she wanted to.

Fifteen

Bryony woke to warm kisses along her shoulder and hands possessively stroking her body.