The Commitment (8 page)

That cost her. Up until that moment she could have pulled away, put some distance between them. Probably. Later, when she'd take the time to think about it, she tried to convince herself it was true.

Deep need pulsed through her. This time it was her groan that escaped as she tried to breathe. Drake's growl echoed it. The primal noise matched the way his hand strayed to her breast as his other found the bottom of her skirt. He pulled the fabric up until his fingers reached the soft skin of her inner thigh through her hose. She writhed against the strictures of fabric.

His hands--she wanted them everywhere.

He unbuttoned her blouse all the while deepening his kiss. When he had her throat and shoulders bared, he removed his mouth from hers. Shivers shot through her as he licked at her earlobes nibbled her neck, made his way to the softness where her breasts began.

At the same instant his mouth reached her cleavage his clever fingers stroked the moist fire he'd created below. Miranda couldn't decide whether to melt or to scream. She had too many clothes on. She wanted skin to skin; heat against heat. Nothing else would do.

She reached to unbutton his shirt. Damn buttons. Her fingers fumbled with the small pieces of plastic. In her growing need she grabbed and pulled hard. The shredding of cloth and the patter of buttons dropping onto the tile floor faded into the background as a deep-seated tremor burst through her.

His mouth found her nipples through the lace of her bra as his fingers encouraged the first slamming orgasm to rock her. She cried out. Her voice almost undid him as she arched against his body with the force of her release. Before she finished cresting he stopped the frantic touching. He lifted her as she moaned. As he carried her to the bedroom he had an irrational hope that the damn dog would stay out for a change.

Miranda's eyes fluttered open as Drake laid her on the bed. Her face, soft and flushed, lips parted, stopped him. She'd given herself to him unselfishly. He wasn't sure he should complete the task.

The throbbing in the lower part of his abdomen gave him notice that he did want to get on with it. Fierce self-control was the only thing that kept him from lowering his trousers and taking Miranda now while she was soft and pliable and oh so sexy.

He curled his fingers into hard fists. His earlier reasons for wanting her had melted away. Now he wanted her to want him. When had his feelings shifted from cold planning to warmer caring? He couldn't think about that now. Now he had to get away from her before he did something both of them would regret.

A soft swish of fabric stopped him before he got to the door. Miranda's hand touched his sleeve.

"You can't leave yet," she whispered. Her eyes, huge and liquid, held him captive.

Warm light from the living room spilled through the bedroom doorway. Her body glowed. Drake hesitated.

This time she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. Her tight nipples touched his flesh where his shirt hung open. White heat shot through him. For a brief instant he was unable to move.

He waited for her to break away, to laugh at him. Waited for her to push him out the door. He waited through an eternity of need for Miranda to somehow end what he had started. He waited for her to cast him out of her life. His heart pounded.

Her hands crept under what was left of his shirt. Then his shirt was on the floor.

He stopped thinking. He picked her up and carried her to the bed. Her legs lifted and wrapped around him as her kisses deepened.

He'd never make it. He'd embarrass himself before he got his pants off. Perspiration broke out on his forehead as he settled her on the bed. He fumbled with his belt; groaned with relief as his trousers and briefs hit the floor.

He plunged into her. Her moist wetness sheathed him, clenched around him. He gritted his teeth, determined to make this more than an animal coupling.

Miranda moved against him, gyrating her pelvis to take in more of him. It undid him. With a hoarse shout he came.

Through the haze of his pleasure he was aware of Miranda's deep, rhythmic orgasm. Time defined itself to that moment of shared intimacy. There was nothing else in the universe except her touch, her body and his together.

Reality returned when something cold and wet touched the leg Drake had dangled over the edge of the bed. He jerked away then looked. Pumpkin's drooling face frowned at him from the floor. Disapproval arced from the dog's clear brown eyes.

Drake shook his head. Pumpkin had no idea what was going on. He was a dog.

Miranda shifted beneath him. Great, not only had he just ravished her, now he was pressing the life out of her. He rolled off with reluctance. She felt soft and warm and infinitely better than the cool sheets that caught his backside.

He was afraid to say anything. What could he say? "Let's do it again?" Or what about, "Guess we consummated that, now."

He stifled a groan as his loins relayed to his brain that they weren't quite ready to quit.

He stared at the ceiling and tried not to think about it.

Miranda's voice, quiet and devoid of emotion, zeroed in on the one thing he should have remembered. "I don't suppose you used a condom?"

He shook his head.

"Then you got what you wanted, didn't you? You did it without taking advantage of me."

Her cool voice held neither judgment nor censure within the fabric of the words. That got to him. Shame and elation fought for space within him. Shame because he had planned her seduction, and got it. Elation because her response had been so much more than he expected.

She had wanted him, had given herself to him when all he asked for was her body. He'd felt her soul come to him in that rare moment of clarity when they were joined.

Had she been aware of it? Did she know how her sweet surrender shattered his plans and thrust him into a dervish of emotions he thought he'd cast off along with his bad marriage?

The silence between them pressed against his chest. Turning toward her, his breath caught in his throat. With eyelids half shut she was curled to face him. One hand cupped her cheek. Her free arm stretched along the curve of her silhouette, enhancing every line beneath the sheet.

Words of apology stuck in his throat. "I'm going to need more than thirty days," he said as he gave in to the heat that rose through him.

Miranda's eyes flashed open. "Why?"

He rolled closer, gratified when she didn't pull away. "Because I want more of this." He took her into his arms and kissed her again.

Her tense resistance faded away. He knew he'd won a major battle when she opened her mouth and her legs to him. He slowed the pace of his lovemaking. He wanted to do it right this time.

Moving her stroking hands away from him, he lifted back the sheet. Goose bumps appeared on her arms. Her nipples peaked.

"What?" she murmured as she watched him.

He hushed her with a gentle kiss on the mouth then directed a body-length caress along her. The goose flesh disappeared. She kept her eyes open.

He began this slower seduction at the top of her face. Flicking tiny kisses across her brow, over the corners of her eyes, around the edge of her mouth, and up the tip of her nose. Her lips curved up.

Next he touched an earlobe with the tip of his tongue as he brushed a nipple with his fingers. She arched into him. He came close to ending it then.

Deep breaths. This time he wanted it to be perfect, unrushed. Deliberate.

Dipping his head, he ran his tongue along her neck until he reached the hollow of her throat. He cupped the other breast and stroked that nipple with his thumb all the while kissing Miranda's neck and throat, moving down to her shoulders and upper arms.

She moved against him again, moaning. Her hands stroked his head. As Drake moved down her body she writhed beneath him. When his fingers found the moistness between her legs she arced to meet them, crying out. He pulled away; determined to pace it. Instead he gave his mouth to her breasts as he placed his body between her thighs.

Her damp pubic hair rubbed against his belly as he kissed and sucked first one nipple then the other. Her hands rubbed his shoulders with a primal rhythm. She burned with the need of him. Shards of desire emanated from every cell as he tortured her with his mouth, his hands.

When his lips deserted her breasts she sobbed. His mouth kissed down her torso trailing flames along her length. She touched his head. When he turned his face to hers, the blaze in his eyes burned hot. He returned to torture her skin.

Lucid thought left her as his mouth sought the nub of her femininity. She grasped handfuls of sheets as his tongue stroked her. Panting, she pulled his head away.

Inside. She had to have him inside her.

For an instant he held back. Just as her body began to tremble with the wave she could no longer resist, he entered her. A long stroke completed her, and then propelled her into the warmth of a universe that was now composed of only the two of them. Infinity waited.

Chapter Eight

Miranda welcomed the darkness of her new office when she arrived. The sun waited below the horizon but its promise started a golden glow in the eastern sky.

On a subliminal level she was aware of the executive appointments of this room. But even the corner view couldn't distract her from the reasons she had arrived so early. Her little apartment had been invaded; she needed someplace where she could be alone to think. This small domain was her best bet. For a little while anyway.

She threw her coat and briefcase onto a chair before sinking into place behind her new desk.

What had she done?

For starters, she'd slept with, correction - had sex with - Drake. He'd wanted consummation; he'd gotten got it. He was husband in fact as well as in name.

She rubbed her forehead as images of herself plastered to him last night--had she really begged him to make love to her?--flashed through her mind. Last time it had been champagne yet he'd been decent enough to keep his hands off. Last night whiskey had been her downfall.

Blaming the liquor was too easy. The cold fact remained that her anger at Drake's deception had blossomed into something else as he told her his side of the story of his marriage. She wondered who was right, Lucy or Drake? Her future depended upon this pivotal question.

Drake's business conduct bordered on ruthless, yet never untruthful. He didn't lie. He had no reason to lie about his personal life. Of course she hadn't known much about that until he'd married her sister. Even then, he'd been close-mouthed. Probably because she remained employed by him.

He had fired Jack on the same day Jack broke off his engagement to her. The next thing she knew, she was in bed with Drake at a no-tell motel in Las Vegas. Were the incidents connected? Even in her exhausted state she was astute enough to realize that somehow all of these pieces fit together.

Lucy was the key. That seemed ridiculous. Even though Miranda loved her sister deeply, Lucy's interests revolved more around clothes and her new career as a dental assistant than anything sneaky. Unless money was involved.

Lucy, younger by three years than Miranda, had developed an early talent for bending the truth so that it benefited her. As much as Miranda loved her sister, she also knew that Lucy wouldn't hesitate to lie if it suited her.

Except for gaining Miranda's sympathy, why would Lucy lie about the reasons for divorce?

Exhaustion dogged Miranda. What little sleep she'd had last night did nothing for her. Right now she needed answers.

It was close to seven o'clock. Lucy should be stirring. Time for a breakfast meeting with little sister. Miranda left a note for her assistant and headed for her car.

* * * *

Lucy lived in one of the newer condominiums on the northeast side of town. The sun was well up and shining through a thin layer of clouds as Miranda slid up the ice encrusted steps to the door. Three minutes and two rings later she heard the bolt lock rasp open. Lucy's pale face met her.

Lucy's upswept hair and picture perfect make-up was in odd contrast to the plain dental assistant scrubs she wore; yet she made even those look perfect. Her elegant model's body would accept nothing less. Her clunky shoes were the only part of the uniform that didn't suit her style. Guess she had to make some concessions to the job.

"Miranda, what are you doing here?" A delicate frown creased the space between her eyes.

"Freezing my butt off," Miranda replied. "Can I come in?"

Lucy glanced over her shoulder then back. She licked her lips. "The place is kind of a mess right now."

Miranda stared. Who was this stranger wearing Lucy's face and clothes? Her Lucy would have been eager, happy to see her. Another frigid blast blew up her long wool coat. "I promise not to look. How about a cup of coffee before we both need to be at work?"

After hesitating just a bit longer Lucy stood back so Miranda could enter.

"I haven't got much time. We have early appointments today." Lucy hurried Miranda through a messier than normal living room and into the kitchen.

The coffee carafe was half full. Since Lucy didn't seem inclined to be gracious this morning, Miranda poured herself a lukewarm cup and set it into the microwave to heat. Lucy busied herself with loading the dishwasher. Normally chatty, she stayed silent, chewing her lower lip and glancing at the clock.

What was she so nervous about?

The microwave chimed. Miranda enjoyed her first hot drink of the day. The familiar flavor settled her. She shrugged off her coat and made herself comfortable at the counter. Lucy kept her back towards Miranda while rinsing cups under the steaming faucet.

Stalling, Miranda realized, as if she knew Miranda wasn't there for a pleasant social visit.

At last Lucy dried her hands. "I really do have to get ready for work."

Miranda sipped, using the time to gather her wits about her. She may not have the opportunity to ask questions again, at least not while Lucy was so flustered.

"I want to know the real reason you and Drake got divorced," she said without subterfuge. "Why did you show up with Jack the other day in Las Vegas?" She refused to blush at the memory. Thanks to the tiny recording she knew the truth behind that scene.