At her touch, he felt the anxiety begin to ease from his body, only to be replaced by a different kind of tension. Staring down into her wide green eyes, which were so full of reassurances, so full of trust, he wanted to believe he could be the kind of father she thought he was capable of being.
But that certainly wasn’t all that he wanted.
There was a hell of a lot he didn’t know about caring for a child. But there were things he did know. He knew sex was the best release after an intense experience. He knew how to make a woman groan with pleasure. He knew how to make her ache. And he certainly knew how to bury all of his self-doubts and recriminations in the pleasure he could find in a woman’s body.
He raised his hand to brush a lock of bright-red hair from her cheek. “This must have been very hard on you, too.”
She licked her lips nervously as her hand slowed, then stilled on his arm. “I’ll be okay.” As if she just realized she was touching him, she jerked her hand away. “But I’m tired and should—”
But he didn’t let her retreat. Instead, he snatched her hand from midair and used it to pull her into his arms. “Don’t. We both need this.”
He pulled her to his chest, more roughly than he intended to. But she didn’t protest when he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her.
Nine
H er body melted against his, all soft curves and pliant woman. He tasted her need. Her passion. But also her fear and desperation. Her need for reassurances.
What surprised him was his own echoing emotions. She may have needed this, but so did he.He lost himself in her touch. In the way her mouth opened under his lips and her tongue arched up to meet his. The way her hands clutched at him, burrowing into his hair. The way her br**sts pressed into his chest, full and soft in contrast to her hardening ni**les.
He stepped his feet between hers, forcing her legs wider apart. Her thighs parted, one calf creeping up the outside of his leg, her pelvis bumping against his erection.
Groaning as his desire spiraled, he pulled her even closer, plastering her body against him, sinking his fingers into the flesh of her buttocks. Her body felt so warm, so solid beneath his hands. So reassuringly feminine.
He pulled his mouth from hers to bury his face in her neck. She moaned, low in her throat as her head dropped back to give him access. Her skin was hot, replete with the scent of her, musky and filled with desire. Her desperate need called out to him, resonating with a pounding urgency. He backed her up, one step and then another, until they fell back together into the plush depths of the sofa.
In the moment their bodies were apart, her hands reached between them, tugging at the buttons of his shirt for one frustrating minute before abandoning them for the button and zipper of her jeans.
Still kissing her, he felt more than saw her tugging her own jeans down her h*ps and kicking her legs free. That was all the invitation he needed. A moment later, he buried his fingers deep into her heat. Her folds were moist and plump against his hand, pulsing with desire.
The feel of her, the heat of her, made his erection tighten and strain against his jeans, bucking to get free.
She arched and moaned against him. “Please, tell me you have a condom.”
It took a moment for her words to register. When they finally did, he nearly cursed. A condom was the last thing on his mind. Still, he groped for his jeans, found the foil packet he knew was in his wallet and a moment later he was back in her arms.
The sight of her there on the sofa, shirt unbuttoned to reveal her perfect br**sts still encased in her pale pink bra, her creamy thighs parted, nearly sent him over the edge.
She opened her arms to him, urgency writ clearly on her face, but he forced himself to slow down. “No. Not yet.”
With excruciating slowness, he unclasped her bra then peeled away the silken fabric to reveal br**sts that were firm and lush, ni**les peaked and darkened with desire. He’d never seen more perfect br**sts. But as tempting as they were, her faint gasp of anticipation was even more erotic. The fervency of her passion turned him on in a way no other woman ever had.
With hands that nearly trembled, he stripped off her remaining clothes, relishing every inch of her body as it was revealed.
A moment later, he buried himself in her. He lost himself in the heat and energy of her body. In the thrusting of her h*ps and desperate clutching of her hands. In the soft moans of pleasure resonating in her chest.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and arched further into him. Her eagerness only turned him on more. God, she was amazing.
This wasn’t the practiced seduction he’d imagined. On his part, there was no skill. No pretense. No art.
Just lust and exquisite passion.
And Lucy.
She was everywhere. She was pounding through his mind, thundering through his blood.
With every stroke of his body, his pleasure built until he could feel nothing but the heat of her body, the clenching of her muscles around him, the spasm of her cl**ax. Until it seemed as if her very soul was imprinted on him.
As his own cl**ax rocketed through him, he knew he’d never forget that moment. Never forget her.
How had he ever forgotten her?
Waves of pleasure still undulated through her body. Dex, heavy and warm, lay on top of her, their bodies still intimately joined. And already she was having doubts.Okay, not doubts, exactly. More like a full-fledged onslaught of panic.
One part of her—the logical, intelligent part that had guided every decision she’d made since she was eleven—had launched into reprimand mode.
What were you thinking?
You don’t sleep with men you barely know. And this wasn’t just any virtual stranger, either. This was Dex. Isabella’s father. You shouldn’t even be alone with him. You’ve lied to him. Deceived him. This is a man who could crush you like a bug if he finds out.
And by sleeping with him, she’d greatly increased the risk that he would find out. After all, he’d slept with Jewel. Sensual, exotic Jewel, who knew how to tempt and entice a man beyond endurance.
Lucy had none of Jewel’s skills in bed and only a tiny fraction of her experience. Was there any chance at all that Dex wouldn’t notice the woman he’d had sex with just now was nothing like the woman he’d slept with fourteen months ago?
She held her breath, waiting for him to comment on the differences, praying that he’d chalk it up to the high emotions of the evening. And all the while, her mental debate continued.
This man isn’t just some heartless automaton, the emotional side of her argued. He was just as worried as I was this evening. Surely it was natural to take comfort in each other.
Natural? It was convenient, that’s what it was. And what now? How many more times in the next few weeks will it be natural to seek comfort in sex again? How many more times will you make that mistake? And how much harder will it be now to take Isabella and leave when the time comes?
Ah, it always came back to that, didn’t it? Back to her pledge to do whatever it took to get Isabella back.
But what if she wasn’t right? Who was to say taking Isabella away from Dex was the right thing to do?
Sure, when she’d thought he was nothing more than a heartless automaton, doing everything in her power to get custody of Isabella had made sense. It had been justified. But she no longer believed that. As of tonight, she knew he cared about Isabella.
Lucy thought briefly of the diamond ring necklace still tucked safely in her purse. Obviously, giving his daughter a diamond ring wasn’t a romantic gesture, but it was a gesture of some kind. It showed how much Isabella meant to him, almost as much as his panic had when he’d thought she was in danger. Just more proof that he’d grown to care for Isabella.
Maybe as much as she did.
So what gave her the right to decide what was best for any of them?
She was so lost in her mental debate that she barely noticed when he rolled off her and left for the bathroom. He returned a few minutes later with a glass of water for her. She took it from him without meeting his eyes.
“Where did you go?” he asked.
She looked up at him in surprise at his question. “What?”
“One minute there was a passionate woman in my arms.” He pulled on his jeans as he spoke. “The next it’s like you’re not even here.”
She turned her back on him, suddenly embarrassed by the intimacy of the situation. She placed her glass on the table, then pulled on her own jeans before turning back to face him. But instead of answering his question, she posed one of her own.
“You’re not going to give me custody of Isabella, are you?”
“Sole custody?”
“Yes.” Her breath caught in her chest as she waited for his answer, even though she already knew what it would be. It all came down to this. Sex aside, emotions aside, this was the issue that stood between them.
“No. Not sole custody.”
“No matter what I do? No matter how good a mother I prove myself to be? You won’t even consider it, will you?”
She gazed into his eyes as she spoke, willing him to see her desperation. Her need.
Forcing herself to really see him as well. Not as just the man who could take Isabella away from her. Not as just some rich man with more money than heart.
As a father. As a man who had sought and given comfort. Not to mention tremendous pleasure.
Oh, it might be all too easy to demonize him. To pretend he didn’t have any needs or rights for her to consider.
But wasn’t it bad enough that she’d been lying to him? Did she really need to continue lying to herself as well?
Grief welled in her chest, forcing her to turn away from him.
He must have seen the desperation in her gaze, because he quickly closed the distance between them. Tenderly, he cupped her cheek, tilting her head up to his.
“This isn’t about how good a mother you are,” Dex said. “This is about what’s best for Izzie. I don’t doubt you’re the best mother for her. But she needs a father, too.”
Somehow his use of the nickname, Izzie, was like a stab in her heart. Like suddenly he had a piece of Isabella that she didn’t. A piece that she’d never get back. She protested automatically. “But—”