Awaken to Pleasure (14 page)

He wanted to groan at the images that inspired. “You’re not dressed for it. Here, let me help.” Moving her hands aside, he pulled the nightie over her head and threw it to the floor. “Now, you’re dressed right.”

“I’m naked,” she whispered, a sexy sparkle in her eye. Before his eyes, she’d blossomed into her sultry sensuality, until tonight, he could read no hint of reticence or fear in her. “Don’t I need a sports bra?”

“You’re right. Come here.” He pulled her along until she was standing in front of the machine he used for his lats. It had a black leather bench that he could sit on while pulling down on the T-shaped handle, which was connected to weights at the back of the machine.

First, he removed all the weights but one. Then, moving around, he sat down on the bench…after taking off his shorts. “Now, straddle me. Face away from me.”

Eyes wide, she did as he bid. He held her up by the waist when she realized that the bench and his body were too wide for her feet to touch the floor. “I don’t think this’ll work,” she complained, clearly disappointed.

“Sure it will.” Grinning, he lowered her onto his thrusting erection. Starved as he was, the sight of her heart-shaped bottom coming down on him made him want to savage her. But he’d been saving up this particular fantasy since his wedding night. Because she looked so goddamn sexy taking him in, he brought her halfway and then lifted her up, only to slide her down again.

“Oh, Jackson…” Her words faded off into a groan as he oh, so slowly lowered her onto him a third time. She was so tight, he always took the greatest care not to hurt her. Except sometimes, like tonight, she took matters into her own hands and pushed down. “Oh!”

Leaving her impaled, he gritted his teeth and pointed to the T-shaped handle near her head. “Put your hands on either side of the bar.”

“What? Why?” She wiggled on him.

He tightened his grip and made her stop. “Do it,” he commanded, unable to restrain the dominant part of himself.
Then again, his wife didn’t seem to mind the way he loved her. He’d never had a lover more suited to his temperament and sexuality. In bed, she could be a demanding tyrant or a sweetly submissive witch, but whatever mood took her, she was always with him to the end. “We’re working out, remember?”

Arching her back just a little, she put one hand on either side of the horizontal bar. Once she was in position, he sat up fully and pulled her snug against him, cupping her breasts and squeezing just because he could.

“Now you have a sports bra.” She gasped and let go of the bar. “Keep holding on. And pull down.”

“Why?”

“I think it’s time you did all the work.” He wondered if she realized that the mirror on the left wall afforded him a very interesting view.

It took her a moment to gather the strength to pull the bar down. She could only bring it as far as her upper chest. “Now what?”

“Release the weights but control their descent.”

As he’d guessed, she wasn’t strong enough to perform that part of the maneuver easily. And with her feet hanging off the floor, she had no traction. She almost rose off him, her inner muscles reluctantly releasing him, as she tried not to clank the weights.

“Oh!” Understanding his intent, she pulled again and slid lusciously down his body.

He kneaded her breasts with his hands, loving the feel of her skin, loving the way she fit him like the most exquisite glove, as if she’d been made just for his most extreme pleasure. His wife. Only his.

“I like this.” She sounded breathless.

He groaned. “Why are we torturing ourselves?”

“Because it feels gooood.” She slid half off him.

“I was going to lay you down and just thrust the first time, after all your teasing.” He squeezed a nipple with his fingertips, taking advantage of her sensitivity.

“Me!” She let the weights go and put her hands over his where they rested on her breasts. “I’ll show you teasing.” And she did something with her inner muscles that just about brought him to climax.

“Where did you learn to do that?” His voice was hoarse as he fought the urge to pour his seed into her.

“Secret.” She was smiling smugly at him, looking over her shoulder. “I think I could do with some thrusting now. It’s probably good for making a baby.”

He couldn’t believe she’d said that. Just like he couldn’t help himself from holding on to her hips and taking over. There was a lot of thrusting. Hard. He went deep and then deeper. His desire had gone over the edge into madness by this stage and it wasn’t deep enough. When he pulled her off his body, she protested. “Jackson, get back!” There wasn’t even a shadow of fear in her.

He nipped the side of her neck. “I want you spread out on your back.”

In less than ten seconds, he had her arranged as his imagination demanded, lush and ready for his pleasure; creamy skin touched with pink, against soft black leather. The word sexy didn’t begin to do her justice. With his hands under her calves, he lifted her long legs high, spreading her thighs wide. His original intent had been to put her in a position where he could indulge his need to thrust deep, but now that he had her where he wanted, temptation beckoned in the silky wet folds of her body. How could any man resist such a delicious feminine invitation?

Sinking to his knees in front of her, he pulled her bottom to the edge of the leather bench. Continuing to hold her legs high in the air with his hands, he spread her thighs farther
apart. Musky heat and the scent of feminine arousal rushed over him like a powerful drug.

“No!” She tried to pull away. “I won’t survive.”

“Be still, wife. I want to indulge my hunger for you.” Slow and deep, his first stroke down her parted flesh made her scream.

“I’m going to kill you!” Her whole body quivered as he stroked again. “Oh…oh! Jackson!”

Using his strength to tilt her body a little more, he thrust his tongue into her, tasting her, marking her, branding her. Again and again and again. She thrashed and writhed but her body was a fountain for him, giving him the taste he craved—the flavor of her passion for him.

“Again!” He thrust his tongue into her after she went over the first cliff, forcing her to the second precipice. “For me. Come,
cara.
For your husband.” She didn’t disappoint him, her spine arching as she trembled in a release that made her skin ripple.

His own body roared with triumph at her shuddering orgasm. But it wasn’t enough. Not yet. Rising above her, he put his hands under her thighs and pulled her further from the bench, until her entire bottom was off the leather. Her body was on an angle that made his entry deeper than he’d believed possible.

She screamed as he slid into her and he felt her internal walls contract again and again as pleasure ripped through her, without mercy. Pulling out, he thrust deeper, clasping her buttocks in his palms. Forced to remain in position by his body, her legs ran up his chest to point at the ceiling. Her breasts moved as she rode the wave of ecstasy, but it was the sound of her calling his name over and over that finally destroyed any control he might’ve had. He surrendered to the rampaging heat inside him and thrust so deep, he thought he’d touched her heart.

Sometime afterward, Taylor propped herself on his chest and said, “I have one question.”

Under his back, the exercise mat was cool. “Hmm.” He was idly stroking her bottom.

“Did you think this was a one-shot thing? If you did, you’d better invest in some heavy-duty locks because I intend to watch at every opportunity.” Her warning was delivered in a tone usually reserved for serious matters.

He thought it over. “You can watch so long as I get post-workout sex.”

She nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Lots of sex.”

“You get that anyway.”

“What did you mean about making a baby?” He didn’t want to get his hopes up, not when she had been so honest about her fears.

“Pretty self-explanatory don’cha think?” She began kissing his chest.

“Taylor.”
He fisted a hand in her unbound hair and forced her head up.

“I’m fertile and unprotected,” she said simply.

A kind of hesitant wonder lit his face. He touched her cheek. “A baby?”

“Yup.” Taylor felt the impact of that smile deep inside. Tonight for the first time, Jackson had totally let go of passion’s reins and she’d never felt more powerful as a woman. Yet, the unexpected tenderness of his smile threatened to shatter her.

“Are you sure it’s not too soon? I know I have been arrogant in my demands but I can wait.”

She felt her heart jump. “You’re the only man I can imagine taking this risk with. And now is the time to take that risk, while I have the strength to fight the fear.” While she was still
floating high on the success of conquering her sexual demons. “Who knows what could happen in the future? I don’t want to let this chance go by.”

He hugged her tight. “Thank you,
cara mia.”
After a while, he freed her from his almost bruising embrace.

“We haven’t made a baby yet.”

“Yes, we have.” He touched her stomach. “Our child is growing inside you right now.”

“What? Are you in contact with all your little soldiers?” She laughed. “Has one breached the castle walls?”

“Wait…” He curved one hand around his ear. “I’ve just received a transmission. Castle walls have been breached. Our
bambina
is on the way.” He smiled at her and it was a smile of such pure delight that her heart was shocked into a sort of frozen wonder.

“It might be a
bambino,”
she whispered, amazed that she was going to have a child with this magnificent man. What a terrible and wonderful gift, she thought.

He chuckled. “Have you been studying Italian,
mia moglie?”

“I have no idea what you mean,
mio marito.”
She put the same possessive emphasis on the word
husband
that he’d put on
wife.

His delighted laughter gave her hope. Yes, having a baby terrified her, but so had making love. With Jackson, anything was possible.

A
month later, she told Jackson he’d been right. To her shock, they’d made a baby on the first go. Standing in front of him, while he sat in his armchair, she couldn’t miss the joy that lit his dark eyes from deep within.

“A baby,” he whispered, his voice rough. Shaking visibly, he put his hands on her waist and looked up at her.
“Nostro bambina
is inside of you?”

“Our baby is definitely inside me. I did
six
of those home pregnancy tests.” She was touched in the most secret part of her heart that he trusted her enough to show her his vulnerability. Jackson Santorini’s reputation did not allow for eyes glazed with elation at the announcement that he was about to become a father.

“Come sit with me,
piccola.
”

With a woman’s instinct, Taylor knew that this was the closest her very masculine husband would ever come to asking to be held. Going into his arms, she embraced him while
he digested the news, her heart overflowing with tenderness so great, she was afraid what it meant.

Like Jackson, Nick couldn’t contain his happiness when he was told the news. “Really, a baby? Cool!” He made a face. “I won’t miss anything when I go to the soccer camp?”

Taylor had to stifle a grin. “No, honey. You’ve got almost eight months to look forward to.”

He glanced from her to Jackson. “Are you…I mean…”

She frowned but Jackson apparently knew what was causing her brother’s anxious expression. Tousling Nick’s hair, he said, “The adoption papers have been lodged. You are my eldest son, Nicolas. Make me proud.”

“I will.” Nick hugged a startled but happy Jackson.

Tears pricked her eyes at the way her husband had accepted her brother, so hungry for male attention, but it was only when he was outside that she allowed herself a little sniffle. “I’ll miss him while he’s at that training camp.” Nick would always be her baby boy.

Jackson put down the paper he’d been reading and came over to hug her from behind. “It’ll only be a few days.”

She leaned back into his strength. “He’s going to be all grown up soon, and then what’ll I do?”

Kissing her neck, her sexy man laughed in a way that sent tingles up her spine. “Love our four other children.”

“Four?” She laughed. “Let’s get this one out first.”

“I like to plan ahead.”

She bit back a smile. “Speaking of planning ahead—don’t forget we have to go to that premiere tomorrow.”

“Nick?”

“He wants to visit Mrs. Willis and she adores him, so we’ll drop him off at her place on the way to the theater.”

Jackson made a sound of agreement. “There’s a family film premiering in three months—Nick can come to that with us.”

Emotion shot through her at the way her husband never forgot her brother, never tried to push him aside. “He’ll love that.” Reaching up, she clasped her hands over his arms. “Is this premiere going to be like the last one?” Three weeks ago, she’d attended her first glittering premiere by Jackson’s side.

The pre-movie get-together had been interesting. Relaxed because she knew several people from her dinner party, people who’d made it a point to introduce her to others who hadn’t yet met her, she’d enjoyed the energy in the air as nervous actors and directors mingled with just as nervous producers. However, the movie itself had left her with a headache—from trying to comprehend the plot.

Jackson chuckled. “I promise this one’s not a would-be art film that takes itself way too seriously. It’s a chick-flick—sure to be a big hit for us.”

Smiling at the resignation in his tone at being obliged to sit through the production, she turned to nuzzle him. “You have good taste, darling. I would’ve had to kill you if Santorini Studios had backed that other picture.”

“You
are proof of my good taste.” He kissed her uptilted lips, the caress an invitation. “Nick’s busy. Come upstairs, little wife. I have an intimate matter to discuss concerning our future plans.”

Taylor gave Jackson a very female look but let him coax her up to their bedroom. Once there, her generous response soothed his possessive need for her. He was determined to teach her to trust him enough to gift him with her love, but sometimes, patience was difficult. His proprietary instincts demanded her devotion. But, Jackson Santorini was a man of honor and he would never go back on his word, in an attempt to force unnegotiated concessions.

Love had not been part of their agreement.

He would persuade but not demand, fight his instincts to give her the emotional freedom she needed. There was only
one catch—he would never let her go. The minute she’d accepted his proposal, she’d become his. Forever.

Almost two weeks after she’d confirmed her pregnancy, Taylor fixed Nick’s collar one Friday morning and kissed him on the cheek. “Have fun at soccer boot camp.”

He grinned. “I will. Bye.” With an excited wave, he jumped in the team minivan and they drove out, followed unobtrusively by a bodyguard posing as a coach. It was a necessity that they were trying to downplay.

“He’ll be okay. He’s got the cell phone if he needs us.” Jackson glanced at his watch. “I’m due at a meeting in forty minutes.” He kissed her a soft goodbye. “Think of me,
piccola.”
He turned to walk over to his car.

“I’m not going to be so little in a while.” She tried to make her words light, but disquiet whispered through her veins. Not for her body, but for her soul. A tiny piece of Jackson was growing inside of her, but an even more dangerous and amorphous thing was taking root in her heart.

Returning, he touched her cheek in a fleeting caress. “You’ll always be little to me,
mia moglie.”

For some reason, she wanted to stop him from going to work and ask him to hold her tight. But, putting on a bright smile, she waved him off. Only when he was gone did she drop the mask. What was the matter with her?

Something twisted in her stomach. She made a face. Morning sickness hadn’t been a problem yet but maybe that was it; the yucky part of her six-week-old pregnancy was about to start. However, though she stood in the bathroom for a while, feeling nauseous, she didn’t throw up.

Instead, tiredness seeped into her bones and barely two hours after she’d woken, she crawled back between the sheets, clad in nothing but Jackson’s discarded shirt. The masculine scent of his body lingered in the fibers, tangible
and comforting, but it wasn’t enough. The nausea had become something worse. She hurt deep inside. Giving up trying to fight the urge, she rang his office.

“He’s on a video conference to New York,” Naomi, his new secretary, told her. “I can get him…”

A painful cramp brutalized her stomach. “No,” she whispered, almost unable to speak. “Just…just ask him to come home after his meeting. Okay?”

“It’ll be a couple of hours.”

“That’s fine.” He probably wouldn’t appreciate being called home to hold his weepy wife. Hanging up, she tried to slip into sleep.

But, a few minutes later, when she felt a warm wetness creeping between her thighs, she was wide awake. There was no pain, only a shocking emptiness where new life should’ve existed in nurturing warmth. Instead of confusion, sudden clarity wouldn’t allow her to ignore the fatal truth.

“No, no, no.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper. “Please, no!” She fought the urge to look down. If she didn’t see, it couldn’t be true. But it was a futile effort—her gaze was pulled toward the horror.

On the blue sheets, the quickly spreading stain didn’t look like blood did in the movies, bright and tomato-red. This was dark, almost black. And she knew her baby was gone. So quickly, so suddenly, so completely. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized just how much she’d already come to love their baby, their precious
bambina.

Clutching her stomach, she keened in grief, unable to stop that sound of utter anguish. How could she do this to Jackson? How could her body betray her this way? Fueled by hormones in disarray, fear and suffering raked her with razor-sharp claws. The baby was gone.
She’d
lost their baby and failed to keep the only part of their bargain that mattered to her husband. Jackson had wanted to create life but she
would only give him death…he would hate her like he hated Bonnie. Her heart broke at the realization and her tears became heartrendingly silent.

Jackson had been irritated when Naomi interrupted the video conference barely after it had begun, but upon hearing her message, he decided she deserved a raise. Despite his reputation, she hadn’t hesitated to stick her neck out for Taylor. And Taylor was Jackson’s life.

Disturbed by her report of his wife’s fragile voice on the phone, he immediately called home. No one answered. Worried, he postponed the meeting and got in the car. When he arrived at the house, she didn’t respond to his calls. He ran up the stairs to their bedroom, concern laying like a rock on his heart. If anything had happened to his Taylor, he wouldn’t be able to bear it. The bed was a jumbled mess. His eyes told him that something was wrong with the dark blue sheets, but hearing movement in the ensuite bathroom, he headed that way.

Taylor was standing propped up in the corner, a white towel tucked haphazardly around her body. Wet hair lay limp and damp around her shoulders. Alarm for her health jackknifed in his gut.

She looked up. “The baby’s gone.” Her eyes were sunken, her face leached of color.

“Gone?” He couldn’t help but remember Bonnie. Anguish at this second loss of a child shot through him like lightning. He was furious with Taylor for a second, incredibly, unjustifiably angry, when he knew that she would’ve never made such a callous decision.

Her face went even paler and he knew she’d seen the anger. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was so forlorn and shivery that it scared him, reaching past the pain and fury to find the tenderness that he felt only for her. Walking over, he put his hands on her shoulders. “What happened?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, eyes unfocussed.

He’d seen that expression before, on the faces of shock victims profiled in a recent war documentary. He hissed through his teeth when he touched her bare arms. She was as stiff as wood, cold as ice. Shoving aside his raging need to know what had happened, he took her into his arms. Nothing and no one else mattered. No one. Only Taylor.

It was at that moment that Jackson realized that if he lost his wife, he would simply give up on life. It was a shocking truth but he accepted it. True Santorini men, uncorrupted by the world, never loved with anything less than all their heart and soul. His grandfather Josef had lived only a few days after his grandmother Gia’s passing.

“Taylor.” Gentleness had no effect. “Taylor!”

She looked up at his harsh tone, but didn’t speak. It was almost as if she were waiting for a blow to fall. Frustrated by his inability to reach her, he picked her up and stalked toward the bed, intending to sit on the edge.

“No!” Though weak, she began to struggle. Her tone was horrified and pleading at the same time.

Frowning, he bypassed the bed, and sat down on the window seat instead, holding her in his lap. Because she loved to sit there in the sun and read, there was a soft angora blanket on the seat. He wrapped it around her, scared at her low body temperature. Then he began rubbing her arms under the blanket, clamping her cold feet between his thighs to warm them up.

After a long while, she asked, “Why are you being nice?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?”

“I told you, the baby’s gone.”

His heart almost broke at the pain in her voice. Even half mad with sorrow, not for a moment did he imagine that she’d deliberately hurt their baby. Not his
piccola.
Not this woman
who’d taken every precaution to ensure that her brother grew up loved and protected. “Are you okay?”

She pushed up his chest and looked at him, all dark blue eyes. “What does it matter? The baby’s gone!”

He shook her just a little. “It matters.
You
matter. To me and to Nick. What would we do without you?”

She was shaking her head and tears were starting to gather. “No. I didn’t keep our baby safe. I couldn’t! I couldn’t! I couldn’t!”

He thought that she was heading toward hysteria but suddenly realized that it was nothing more than pure anger-fueled pain. Taylor was far more like him than he’d ever before guessed. She hated being unable to control her baby’s happiness. He let her beat his chest with her clenched fists, let her cry and talk, almost certain that he knew what had happened.

“I couldn’t keep our baby safe! I couldn’t!” she screamed. “There was just…there was so much blood. Our
b-bambina
got washed away.” Wracking sobs infiltrated her body, turning her from a warrior to a grief-ravaged mother.

Fighting his own tears, Jackson held her to him despite her protests, and rocked her. His poor Taylor. So used to protecting those she considered her own, so used to being able to control what hurt them. Memories of her fussing over Nick merged into images of her bristling on his own behalf, taking on those who would dare to hurt him. He couldn’t bear her pain. She cried for a long time and each tear felt like acid on his heart.