But first, she nudged her jeans down over her h*ps and let them fall to the floor. Any self-consciousness she might have felt standing nearly na**d before him vanished at the sight of his appreciative smile curling his lips.
She supposed he could have been comparing her to the legions of women he’d no doubt been with before her, but the look in his eyes said he wasn’t thinking of anyone else. Right now, at this moment, neither of their pasts existed. His other lovers didn’t matter anymore than her lack of experience did.
All that mattered was tonight. This moment. This instant, as she was climbing on top of him, straddling his waist, staring down into the laughing eyes of the man whose body seemed to have been handcrafted for her pleasure.
She ran her hands over his chest, using his temporary confinement to explore his body and drive him crazy all at the same time. His skin was hot beneath her touch. His ni**les were as hard as hers were and she took great pleasure in sucking each of them into her mouth, in the low moan of pleasure he gave as she raked them with her teeth.
“I think you’re enjoying this,” he ground out.
Leaning over his chest, up on her knees, she looked up at him. “I’d rather hoped you were, too.”
He chuckled. “Oh, I am.” Then his wicked smile vanished and his look intensified. “Don’t forget. I’m not entirely without resources here.”
His arms may have been trapped by his side, but his hands were still free and he was able to just reach the back of her knees. He grabbed her and with a swift tug, pulled her body up so that her mouth was even with his. He gave her a fast, fierce kiss.
“Unbutton my arms,” he ordered.
“No.”
Then, with another tug, he pulled her br**sts within reach of his mouth. He laved first one breast and then the other with exquisite attention. His hands were at the back of her thighs now. She didn’t know what was worse, the persistent sucking on her ni**les or the aching anticipation of wondering how much range of motion he had in his arms.
Could his fingers reach her panties? Could they slip underneath?
His hands tightened on her thighs, branding her with his touch.
“Unbutton my arms.”
“Make me.” But the words came out as a pant. More begging than ordering.
Then with excruciating slowness, his hands moved from the backs of her thighs to the front. First one thumb and then the other slipped under the elastic edging of her panties. His thumbs moved to her entrance, where moisture clung. Moving in slowly expanding ovals, his thumbs circled from her entrance and then up, almost to her bud, and then back down.
With every movement, the tension seizing her body racketed up another notch. Almost there. Almost.
When his thumb finally brushed her center, her whole body clenched in a spasm, her back arching.
His hands tightened on her legs once more. This time, when he pulled her forward, she found herself poised directly over his mouth. His fingers tugged aside the only barrier separating them. He pulled her h*ps down and sucked her into his mouth. His tongue swirled around, his fingers slipped into her from behind and whatever remaining inhibitions she clung to vanished.
Suddenly, she was uncontrollable, bouncing on his fingers, moaning in pleasure, begging for more. Every muscle in her body tightened, poised for release. And then it came, as shock wave after shock wave of pleasure washed over her.
She was still trembling when he flipped her over onto her back. The last of their clothes vanished in the hazy aftermath of her cl**ax. A second later his erection prodded her tender, sensitized fleshed, stirring her desire once more. He pounded into her, hard and fast. Touching the deepest part of her, pushing her to new heights of pleasure.
For an instant, her eyes drifted open, just long enough to see his expression, taut with desire, mindless with passion. And then she lost herself again as another cl**ax shook her body and soul.
Fifteen
H e still couldn’t imagine how he’d possibly forgotten a sexual encounter with this woman. When he woke up the following morning to find her warm, na**d body draped over his, he felt as if every instant of the previous evening had been branded into his mind.
The feel of her silken skin. The sight of her poised above him, head thrown back. The honeyed taste of her on his lips. The shuddering of her cl**ax as her body had clenched around his.She was, quite simply, unforgettable.
Every other woman he’d slept with faded into the recesses of his memory. All these years, he’d drifted from woman to woman, having one meaningless sexual encounter after another. He’d never before appreciated that knowing a woman would add so much to sex.
A glance at the clock told him it was far too early to wake her. As appealing as early morning sex sounded, after the night they’d had, he wanted her to catch up on her sleep.
He slid out from under her, lingering only for a moment to brush the hair off her cheek. He didn’t let himself stay longer. She was far too tempting as it was and he’d indulged his passions enough.
Last night’s touching presentation of his old copy of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer had achieved his goal. She was going to marry him. She had, perhaps, not said the words, but her response hadn’t left any room for doubt. Since he’d gotten what he’d wanted, he certainly didn’t need to overplay his hand.
There’d been moments last night when he’d even felt himself swept up in his performance. Which, in the harsh light of morning, only reminded him that when they were married, he’d have to go the extra mile to make sure she didn’t get too close.
He was his own man, in charge of his own destiny. He didn’t need anyone. Not a seductive temptress like Lucy and certainly not a little imp of a baby girl. Trusting people, letting them close, meant heart-wrenching vulnerability. He’d learned that lesson long ago and it wasn’t an experience he intended to repeat.
All the more reason—he thought as he pulled on a pair of jeans—not to linger in bed with her. Sex was one thing in a marriage. Explosive, amazing, best-sex-of-his-life sex—well, that was just a bonus. But he wasn’t about to let himself be trapped by deeper emotions. He’d seen firsthand that love brought nothing to a marriage but heartache.
And he respected Lucy too much to break her heart.
He slipped into a pair of loafers and silently shut the bedroom door behind him before heading over to the main house.
It was only a little past six. The night before, Lucy had explained that she’d paid Mrs. Hill to stay the whole night. Originally, Lucy hadn’t planned on being at the house much past their big “discussion.” So Mrs. Hill had spent the night in the guest bedroom Lucy had stayed in previously, watching Izzie all through the night.
However, he knew Izzie sometimes woke up early. And since she’d been all night long without either parent, he’d like to be nearby when Mrs. Hill brought her down for her morning bottle.
Unfortunately, when he crept in through the back door, the house was silent and still. He quickly disarmed the alarm, then made his way over to the coffeemaker. While he waited for the machine to work its magic, he flipped absently through the pile of mail Derek’s housekeeper had left at the kitchen desk the day before.
He shook his head in exasperation at the sight of a Pottery Barn Kids’ catalog. How in the world had Pottery Barn found out he had a kid less than two weeks after he’d found out?
He tossed it aside along with the Hammacher Schlemmer catalog, quickly shuffled through a stack of bills and hesitated with the eleven-by-thirteen-inch envelope marked Confidential. The return address was Geneletic Labs. He stared at the envelope a moment before recognition sank in.
Geneletic Labs was the company he and Derek had sent their paternity test to the morning after Izzie had arrived on their doorstep.
Funny, when he’d taken the test just under two weeks ago, he’d been desperate to get the results. Desperate to know whether or not he could foist the responsibility for Izzie off on Derek.
He hadn’t wanted her. Hadn’t wanted to be tied down by a child. Now, he knew there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. He’d even gladly made the sacrifice he’d once sworn he’d never make. He’d asked a woman to marry him. Hell, he’d damn near begged her.
Dex nearly tossed the unopened envelope into the pile of junk mail and catalogs. After all, he already knew he was Izzie’s father.
But for some reason, he hesitated. With a why-the-hell-not shrug, he slipped his forefinger under the flap of the envelope and pried it open.
A moment later, he stared at the paper inside as shock rocketed through his body.
Isabella wasn’t his.
So this, Lucy thought groggily, was the meaning of the phrase “rude awakening.”“Lucy, wake up,” the stern voice repeated.
She rolled over onto her back, rubbing at her eyes and the words and the voice sank in.
That was Dex’s voice. Dex, with whom she’d made beautiful, amazing love the night before.
Just as something warm and delicious began to unfurl within her, she was hit by another thought.
Dex, whose voice did not sound at all sleepy and sex-sated. Dex, to whom she still had not told the truth.
Dread quickly squashed any of her warmer emotions. Regardless of what had made him so grumpy this morning, the day couldn’t end well. Not when she had such bad news to break to him.
Well, nothing like a cold dose of reality to wake one up, was there?
She sat up, pulling the sheet up to her shoulders as she did so. “What do you want?”
She tried not to sound defensive, but she wasn’t at all sure she’d pulled it off. It would have been tricky, given his chilling scowl.
He stood at the foot of the bed dressed in jeans. Last night’s dress shirt hung unbuttoned over his bare chest. His arms were crossed, his expression thunderous.
It was all she could do not to shrink into the bed and hide under the covers.
“Is Isabella okay?”
“Isabella is fine. At least, I assume she is.” His scowl deepened. “She is not, however, mine.”
Somehow his words just didn’t register. “What are you talking about?”