His Christmas Present (15 page)

“He said he did it
because he didn’t want me to turn out like the others—like him.” Dion spoke
flatly. “He wants me to go and play happy families. To find myself, or some
other shit like that.”

Megan’s heart rate
increased. He was angry, and rightly so. But she had to try and get him past
his anger, because only then would he be able to grieve.

“So he had your
best interests at heart,” she said softly.

He turned
irritable eyes on her. “It was an excuse, Megan. He’s always wanted to give the
company to Jack and he’s tried to cover his devious move in a layer of well meaning,
but it’s bullshit. He’s never thought of anyone else, from the moment he let my
mother move to New Zealand to forcing me to move back to England with him. He’s
only ever done what he wants, and fuck everyone else.”

“Perhaps you
should give some thought to the fact that maybe he
did
have your best
interests at heart by not giving you the job. He’s been divorced twice, and
from what I’ve heard it doesn’t sound like he was a very happy man, especially
toward the end. Maybe he came to realise that status and achievement in your
career are great, but they aren’t everything.”

“It wasn’t his
decision to make,” he snapped.

“Maybe not, but
that doesn’t change the fact that he obviously thought it was the best thing
for you.”

Dion turned back
to the view, the hand not holding the glass clenching at his side. “I’ve worked
so hard to get to the top—you have no idea how many hours I’ve put into that
company.”

“But that’s the
point,” she said earnestly. “He obviously saw you break up with Lauren—he must
have realised she loved you. It would have been hard for him to watch you throw
away that chance of having a family, especially when he’s done the same,
twice.”

“Everyone knows
what’s best for me,” he said bitterly. He turned to face her then, his eyes
hard. He took a long swig of the whisky as his eyes ran down her and then back
up. “Including you.”

Uh-oh.
“Dion…”

“I’m sick of
everyone making decisions for me. Why does everyone want to control me?”

“It’s not about
controlling you.” She started to wish she hadn’t tried to get him to talk.

“Oh really?”

Impatience flooded
her. “It’s not always about you.”

“So you didn’t
tell me about the baby because you thought it would be best for Harry not to
have a father?”

“Of course not!”
She tried to rein in her anger. “Look, you’re upset and angry, I understand
that. Maybe I should go and we can talk about this later…”

“No.” He set his
jaw. “You wanted to come in—you wanted to talk. Let’s talk.”

Dion knew he was
making Megan uncomfortable, but he was beyond reasonable thought. Frustration
at his father’s decision had pushed him to this point, and opening the floodgates
to his emotions had let his hurt regarding her decision not to tell him he was
a father come bubbling to the surface.

To her credit, she
just lifted her chin and met his gaze boldly. “Go on then. What do you want to
say?”

He hesitated, not
sure how to put his pain into words. “I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me
you were pregnant.” He moved a bit closer, noting the tanned, smooth skin of
her throat and collarbone above her hot pink vest, the generous swell of her
breasts, unable to smother the surge of desire that welled inside him, even
though he was angry with her. “We made another person, Megan. How could you
keep that from me?”

She swallowed, but
kept her gaze on his. “You made it very clear when we were together that you
weren’t looking for a relationship or for a family. You told me that’s why you
broke up with Lauren.”

“Even so.” Irrationally,
resentfulness and jealously rose inside him that she’d chosen the course of
action without taking his wishes into account. “It was an incredibly selfish
thing to do.”

“Selfish?”
Puzzlement morphed on her face into incredulousness. “I did it for you!”

“You removed me
from the decision-making process for my own good?” He gave a brief, humourless
laugh. “Thank you for being so thoughtful.”

Twin spots of red
burned on her cheeks. “Don’t make fun of me. I thought if I told you about
Harry, you’d just reject us, and I couldn’t bear the thought of that.”

He glared at her.
“That’s a coward’s excuse.”

“Maybe. But you’d
already left me once.”

He ground his teeth.
“Your father threw me out of his home, remember?”

“I didn’t mean
then. I meant in Prague.” She stopped and bit her lip.

He stared. “You’re
going to throw that in my face? We both decided it would only be for the one
night. We lived on opposite sides of the world. I was in the middle of the
biggest business deal of my life.”

“Even so. You must
have realised how I felt about you, Dion.”

He ran a hand
through his hair, finished off his whisky and banged the glass onto the table.
“So we got on well and we had a great time. So what? I was supposed to throw
away my career for one quick fuck?”
Even if it was the best fuck of my life.

Her sharp gaze
scored him. “And you wonder why I didn’t tell you I was pregnant?”

“I wish you had,”
he snapped, shocked to find himself near to tears. “Then maybe I could have
talked you into an abortion.”

Her hand moved
before he had time to think, meeting his face with a sharp crack that made his
ears ring. He knew he’d gone too far, but he couldn’t get rid of the anger and
pain boiling in his stomach.

He caught her
wrist as she raised her hand to slap him again, her eyes welling, and he pushed
her back against the window, pinning her hands to the glass.

“It’s
my
life,” he yelled. “I’m a fucking adult—I do
what
I want,
when
I
want.”

Her bottom lip
trembled. “I know.”

“My father doesn’t
know what’s best for me. I didn’t make a mistake going to the UK, and contrary
to popular opinion, I didn’t screw everything up by leaving you in Prague.”

“I know.”

“You’re not
everything to me, Megan.” His voice had turned hoarse. “You’re not the only
woman in the world. There’ll be others.”

“I know. I didn’t
want to tie you down. I just want you to be happy.” A tear spilled down her
cheeks.

Hurt raged through
him—and nausea made his stomach clench. He banged her hands against the glass.
“Don’t be so fucking sanctimonious. Even you can’t be that fucking virtuous. Is
that really what you want? To see me married off to someone else, to leave you
and Harry behind?”

“No.” She tried to
dry her wet cheek on her shoulder, but he held her too tightly. “I want you,
Dion. I’ve always wanted you, since I was a girl. But I want you to want me
too.” Tears poured down her face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about your dad, and
about your job. And I’m sorry about Harry. I know I should have told you, but I
couldn’t bear the thought of you turning your back on us and being angry with
me. I didn’t mean to get pregnant, I swear.”

“It’s too late for
that,” he said fiercely. “What say do I have in it now?”

“None, I know. I’m
sorry. I love you.”

His chest hurt so
much that for a moment he thought he was having a heart attack like his father.
“Don’t.”

“I know you don’t
love me back, but I have to say it.”

“Don’t!” He yelled
the word and watched her bottom lip tremble in response. His hands tightened on
hers.

She continued to
cry, but her eyes were glassy and clear as they met his, shining with the love
he knew she felt for him. “I love you, I’ve always loved you.”

“Megan…” His
control crumbled. Releasing her hands, he pulled her into his arms and crushed
her lips to his.

For a brief moment
he thought she’d push him away, maybe even slap him again, but her frozen body
melted against him. She slid her arms around his waist, her mouth opening under
his, and he kissed her hungrily, sinking his hands into her hair, plunging his
tongue into her mouth.

He raised his head
and kissed her nose, her cheeks, her eyelids, her mouth again. “I’m sorry,” he
mumbled, terrified of letting her go in case she walked away. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know.”

Desire surged
through him, a deep longing to lose himself—if only for a few brief moments—in
her. He kissed up her jaw to her ear, then back to her face, holding her
tightly. “I didn’t mean it,” he whispered. “About Harry, I mean.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not. It was
a fucking awful thing to say, and I wish I could take it back.”

She caught his
face in her hands and brushed his lips with her thumbs. “Dion, forget it.
Nothing matters.” She kissed him. “I don’t care about the future. But right
here, right now, I want you.”

He was hardening
against her, and he slipped his hands onto her butt to pull her against him so
he could press his erection into her soft mound. Still he hesitated though,
knowing this was probably a mistake—their emotions were too high, and they
weren’t thinking clearly.

“Megan…”

“Ssh.” She fumbled
at his waist and undid the button of his shorts, then slid down his zipper.
“Don’t say anything.”

“I don’t want to
hurt you after what you’ve been through…”

“I’m fine, Dion. I
swear.”

“I don’t have any
condoms,” he mumbled.

“I don’t care.
I’ll worry about it tomorrow.” She turned him and pushed him back and onto to
the sofa. She removed her panties and climbed on top of him, and he freed his
erection. Without further ado, she climbed astride him, reached down and guided
him to her opening, then welcomed him inside her, letting him slide all the
way.

Dion gasped,
closed his eyes and let his head fall back on the sofa. The sensation of being
encased in her warm, wet heat was blissful. Suddenly all his tension, all his
anger, drained away.

He opened his eyes
to look straight into her green ones, and he cupped her face, hoping he hadn’t
hurt her. “You okay?”

She nodded. “I thought
it would feel different, but it feels…” She moved her hips experimentally, and
her lips curved. “Pretty good actually.”

Relieved, he
slipped a hand behind her head and pulled her down to kiss her, this time
savouring her lips gently. She rested her hands on the back of the sofa,
returning the kiss, rocking her hips just enough to make him groan and swell
inside her.

He took the hem of
her vest in his hands and lifted it, and she sat up briefly as he pulled it
over her head. She looked down at her chest, then gave him a wry smile. “Sorry.
I wasn’t expecting to get lucky.”

He smiled and
reached around her back to unclip the maternity bra. “Doesn’t change the beauty
of what’s inside.”

She flushed
prettily as he drew the bra down her arms and tossed it onto the floor. Her
breasts were larger, fuller than he remembered. He cupped them gently. “They don’t
hurt?”

“No. Sometimes
they get a bit tight.”

He brushed his
thumbs across her nipples. She shivered and moved her hips, her hands clenching
on his shoulders.

“Would you rather
I didn’t touch you there?” he asked.

“No, it’s okay… It
feels…nice.”

When he first
found out she’d had a baby, he’d wondered what it would be like to make love
with a new mother, how she would be able to put aside the changes to her body
and still feel—and be—sexy. But although her slender body had changed a little,
softening and rounding, she was still beautiful, and he had the same urge to
pleasure her that he’d had in Prague, the same desire to love her, and be loved
by her.

He bent his head
and kissed her breasts, then circled her nipples with his tongue, enjoying her
answering shudder. And then he returned his lips to hers, letting her move on
top of him as he kissed her, waiting for her to relax and their bodies to
realign.

When her movements
grew more energetic and her breathing grew irregular, he held her tightly,
moved to the end of the seat and stood.

She lifted her
head to laugh, all anger gone. “What?”

“I want you to
take you to bed,” he said huskily.

“Vanilla?” she
teased. “Really, Dion.”

He smiled, but
couldn’t put into words how he was so, so sorry for what he’d said about Harry,
for hurting her feelings, and for walking away from her in Prague. And how he
wanted her with him in the warmth and comfort and softness of the bed, how he
wanted to take the time to love her properly.

So, still inside
her, he carried her into his room and closed the door, opened the sliding doors
to the deck outside, peeled back the duvet and lowered her onto the mattress.
Then he moved her so they were lying side by side, her leg hooked across his
hip, and took her in his arms.