The Pregnancy Test (13 page)

“I want to deep penetrate, Mandy.”

Have mercy and then some. Inner thighs burning, Mandy undid the ties to her bikini top and ripped it off.

W
hy him? What had he done to deserve the hell that his life was? Damien groaned out loud in ecstasy and torment when Mandy tore off her black bikini top and let it fall in the open hamper at the foot of the bed.

This just wasn’t fair. Struck dumb, he could only stare as she trailed her fingers between her breasts, in the sticky jelly remnants. It would be sweet, he knew. It would be warm from her heated flesh. He would be able to smell her, the tangy saltiness of her skin intermingling with the fruity spread and the warm musk of her desire.

“Mandy.” He pleaded for her to understand. He dug his nails into his legs through the fabric of his shorts, hoping pain would keep him from leaping on her.

Her thumb brushed over one nipple, and he became paralyzed. Incapable of movement of any kind. Frozen in panic and overwhelming lust.

“Damien, I read the book this morning.” While she spoke, her fingers went up and down, up and down between her breasts, luring his gaze. “What it said was that at the end of your pregnancy, there may be slight bleeding after intercourse, and if that is the case you might want to avoid deep penetration. Otherwise, as long as it’s comfortable for the mother, it’s completely safe.”

He could barely concentrate on her words when oh-so-slyly her touch shifted to the right and she was stroking the swell of her breast, the full curve underneath, her head turning to the side a little as she made contact with her nipple.

Even with his tongue too large for his mouth, he forced words out. “It seems like we should err on the side of caution.” Though he was starting to think her arguments were pretty damn persuasive.

She was breathing now with that sound he loved—the little gasp of pleasure slipping out now and again, the deep jagged edge to each breath she pulled in, her mouth open in invitation.

“Absolutely, I agree. So if anything feels uncomfortable, I’ll just tell you to stop.”

Well, that was good enough for him.

Damien grabbed the jar of jelly with a growl and leaned over the bed. Knee in a plate of crackers, he slapped a big heaping handful of the sticky orange goo over her right breast and bent down for a taste.

“Oh, Damien, yes!” she cried when his tongue touched the tip of her nipple.

The taste of the fruit spread mixed with the taste of her skin and crashed with the sound of her calling out his name and gave him a heady rush of pleasure. He sucked the bud into his mouth, hard.

Her cry dissolved into a low groan.

For a man who had thought himself pretty much devoid of all sexual feelings three months ago, he was pretty damned turned on. Swirling his tongue around her nipple to clean up clinging bits of jelly, he reached into the jar with an index finger and hauled out another scoop.

She pulled in her breath. “What are you going to do with that?”

Moving away from her breast, he teased his finger back and forth in front of her, jelly sliding down his knuckle, a dollop still resting on the tip. When he skirted past her nipple, Mandy let out a soft cry of disappointment. She had thrust her breasts out toward him in invitation, full and plump, her taut nipples a deep pink, the one still shiny and wet from his mouth.

Teasing himself as well as her, he asked, “Oh, did you want it here?” He hovered over one nipple.

“It doesn’t matter to me,” she said, employing that clipped secretarial voice of hers. “Whatever works best for you.”

“How generous of you.” His body was tense, his skin hot and tight, blood rushing through his head with a sexual buzz. “Maybe I will put it here, then.”

Coming a half inch from contact, he pulled his finger back. “Or maybe not.”

She groaned, and he gave a low laugh. “Are you hungry, Mandy?” He stared into her rich brown eyes and wanted her to understand, wanted her to feel the same urgency and longing. “I am. I’m very, very hungry.”

He smeared the jelly on her bottom lip from side to side. The tip of her tongue came out and flicked across his finger. The burn in his gut increased, and he snatched his finger back, out of her reach.

Replacing his finger with his mouth, he kissed her, licking at her lips, teasing his tongue into her until they were both covered in sugar and sweet fruit, passion, and the taste of each other. His hands dug in her hair as he drew her in closer, and her bare breasts brushed across his button-up shirt. Wanting to feel her against him, he used one hand to laboriously undo each button on his shirt, while he nipped and ate at her mouth.

When he got the shirt apart and her chest collided with his, they both groaned. “You feel so good, Mandy. So perfect.”

Her head tipped back and he took the opportunity to suckle her neck.

“Damien, it’s so different with you. So much more…intense. That sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

“No.” Not at all. “I was thinking the same thing.”

His knees were crunching around in crackers and cheese, and he shifted, needing more.

“Lie back.” Even as his hands were easing her down, he realized that was wrong. “Shit, we’re not supposed to do that.” He pulled her back up, immediately feeling guilty for forgetting and flinging her around like a rag doll. “Sorry.”

Mandy touched his cheek. “Don’t do that. Don’t apologize for something like that. This is new for both of us and we’re trying to learn how to adjust. The book did say after the fourth month I shouldn’t lie on my back for long periods of time, like sleeping. I don’t think this counts, but if it makes you more comfortable we can just try a different position.”

He loved how she was so matter-of-fact about what they were doing. They were lovers, having sex, and no sense in tiptoeing around that.

She was wiggling out of his arms. “The book encouraged couples to experiment with new ways of making love.”

The only problem with that was they weren’t a couple. They were something that was getting more and more complex and harder to define. Not willing to dwell on that too long, Damien was about to suggest they lie down on their sides and see where that went. Before he could open his mouth, Mandy turned and crawled toward the pillows, peeling down her bikini bottoms.

He was about to protest that he would have liked to have done the peeling down of those, when she went up on all fours.

“Though they did suggest coming from behind as a good one. Would that interest you?” And she stuck her perky little ass in the air toward him.

Holy hell. Damien closed his eyes and counted to five before he could answer. Everything ached with longing. Even his teeth wanted her. His ears were turned on.

She had no idea. Absolutely no fucking idea what she did to him. “Yes, that interests me.”

Yanking his shirt and pants off and tossing them in the hamper along with Mandy’s bikini bottoms, he shoved the cracker mess right off the side of the bed. He’d give the maid an extra large tip. Then he put one hand on Mandy’s pale backside and moved right alongside her.

Thighs touching hers, he stroked her smooth skin, enjoying the curve of her heart-shaped ass, the arch of her spine rising gracefully to her neck. Goose bumps rose under his touch, and she gave a sweet, low sigh.

“I think this will work.”

“Oh, this will definitely work.” Damien leaned over and kissed her shoulder, his fingers trailing between her legs, his erection pressing into her hard and urgent.

And what he thought might work would be them. Him and Mandy. Together. Not just here, but there, too. Back in New York.

The thought startled him so much, kicked him in the gut and head and everything in between, that he forgot where he was going with his hand and let his finger pause right where the swell of her bottom met her inner thighs.

Resting on her forearms, Mandy was wet with anticipation, swollen with longing, tilted back as far as she could without snapping her spine in two, and Damien had stopped. His finger hovered over her crotch like a hummingbird with a flower. He was supposed to be dipping into her bloody nectar, and he wasn’t doing a damn thing.

“Damien?” She felt ridiculous with her bum in the air, arms forward, as if she was paying homage to the mattress.

This could get very embarrassing in a moment or two.

“Mandy,” he whispered behind her, voice hoarse and raw.

Then when she would have been satisfied with just his finger, he came in with the big guns. Or gun. He slid inside her with one quick thrust that tore the breath right out of her.

“Oh, my.” She kneaded the sheet and swallowed hard as he filled her.

“Is this okay? You’re comfortable?”

“Oh, yes.” She closed her eyes, head resting on her forearm, and shuddered. “I’m fine, thanks. Never been better, really.”

Then she decided talking was going to have to wait.

She was going to be much too busy having an orgasm to form words.

Especially since he started moving with tight just-right movements, his hands on her waist, firm and hard and masculine. She loved his control, the way he rolled his desire in and out at will, the way his emotions loosened when he was with her like this.

He was taller and more muscular than Ben, but it wasn’t just physical features that made Ben seem small in comparison. It was Damien’s presence. His aggressive, vibrant approach, his confidence, yet secret hidden depths attracted her to him in a way she never had been to another man.

If Ben was a biscuit, Damien was a Danish. Cool, sweet, complicated and very, very irresistible.

Too much Danish wasn’t good for her.

But she was on holiday and it was okay to indulge. She would resist the temptation when she got home and thought through the consequences of overnibbling.

Damien’s fingers snaked around and cupped her breasts. He stroked in and out of her as he played with her nipples, and Mandy let go of her thoughts and gave in to the ecstasy of his body in hers.

As she tumbled into an orgasm, blurting out the obvious, “Don’t stop, I’m coming,” Damien swore.

Then her own cries of pleasure were drowned out by his as he let go and poured himself into her. She felt the spasm of his body, felt the jerk of his hand on her breast, felt the heat of his skin pressed against hers.

And as she heard his groan, mingling with hers, her eyes closed, Mandy knew this wasn’t just sex.

This was something much more, and it scared the bloody hell out of her at the same time it exhilarated.

“T
ell me we never have to go back,” Mandy said as she lay on the bow of the sailboat.

Damien tilted the sail and watched her sun herself, looking relaxed and beautiful, arm flung over her eyes. He had the urge to suggest they toss over their lives back in New York and sail off in the vast ocean and never look back. Pretend the real world didn’t exist and that they could just have each other, idyllic days in the sun, and nights spent making love.

But Damien was no dreamer.

And even the ocean wasn’t calm every day.

“Maybe it will be warm when we get back tomorrow.” He scanned the horizon and told himself he didn’t care.

That it didn’t matter to him that this was the end of his time with Mandy.

But his heart wasn’t quite as frozen as he’d thought, and it ached, a feeling he had meant to avoid for the rest of his life. It was a good thing they were leaving in the morning. Any longer and that ache might compel him to an action he would regret.

“That’s no consolation,” she said, turning from her side to her back, wearing another little nothing of a yellow bikini. She had told him the two-piece she owned made her feel like her growing stomach was more evident. That the bikini was better camouflage, since it drew the eye upward.

Whatever the reason, he found it hard to concentrate when she was half naked.

She sighed. “It will probably be raining. And I have no clothes that fit. And Caroline Davidson who works in accounting is my roommate. She happens to be getting married next month and I’m a bridesmaid, which is ridiculous. I tried to bow out gracefully, pointing out that my dress no longer fits, but Caroline wouldn’t hear of it. So I have an appointment to have the dress altered next week, though I don’t see how they can alter it unless they cut a hole in the middle.”

Damien eyed her stomach and laughed. “You’re exaggerating. Most people have bigger stomachs than that after Thanksgiving dinner.”

She opened one eye and peeked from under her arm. “I’m whining, aren’t I?”

“A little.”

She gave a rueful smile. “Well, can’t you whine a little, too? That would make me feel better. What is waiting to attack you when you get back?”

“I’m going to Boston at the end of the week for a customer briefing. And I have a meeting on Wednesday with the software developers. But that’s all normal stuff.” He grinned when she curled her lip in disgust, obviously unimpressed. “I have a dentist appointment. Does that help?”

“No.” She ran her hand idly over her stomach. “I have an ultrasound scheduled in a few weeks and I have to drink three glasses of water before I go, and they won’t let me go to the loo until the test is done. I’ve heard it’s just
agony
.”

“I have to get a crown. That’s agonizing, too,” he protested. It wasn’t something he was looking forward to.

“Aren’t you kind of young for a crown? How old are you anyway?” Mandy looked at him suspiciously, like he was forty-five and trying to hide it.

“Thirty-three. And I have a sweet tooth that gets me into trouble.” He smiled at her and adjusted the sail so they would turn around and start back to the shore. “Didn’t you notice how many cookies I ate at lunch?”

“I did make note of that.” Then she shrieked when a spray of ocean water soaked the front of her from hair to thighs. “That’s cold!”

Damien laughed as she sat up shaking herself. “It is not cold. It’s seventy-five-degree water.”

Mandy didn’t like his answer. She leaned over and tossed a handful of water in his direction before he realized what she was doing. Warm water hit his face and bare chest.

Damien blinked and shook his head so the water scattered. “Definitely warm.”

She laughed. “You idiot.”

“What? What did I do?” He leaned toward her, thinking it would be a really great idea to kiss her right now.

Mandy must have thought he was going to splash her or some other form of retribution because she quickly scooted backward. “No, don’t!”

Only her laughter cut out when she lost her balance and rocked precariously. Damien shot his arms out and grabbed her before she tumbled over the side of the boat. “Careful now.”

He settled her onto his lap, away from the edge, and took a deep breath to slow down his racing heart. She’d scared the shit out of him for a split second there.

“You rescued me,” she said, her chocolate brown eyes melting as she looked at him.

He had a funny feeling that the opposite was true. She had rescued him. As she dusted her lips over his, and her bottom pressed into his thighs, her breasts firm and warm on his chest, Damien held her to him.

“It was nothing.” And if he kept telling himself that, maybe he’d believe it.

Mandy pulled back and raised her eyebrows suggestively. “Ever done it on a boat?”

“No.” Damien gave in to the pleasure of caressing her backside, but refrained from anything else. “And I’m not going to today either, since we’re fifty feet from shore.”

Mandy looked over her shoulder at the beach and let out a sigh. “Oh, damn. That’s really a shame.”

Her mournful expression made him laugh. “What do you want to do now? We could play water volleyball, or go for a donkey ride on the beach. Or we could go back to my room, and I could lick you all over and make you come. I’ll let you decide.”

Moistening her lips, she smiled, a slow, sensual smile. “As fond as I am of donkeys, I’ll choose the third option.”

The boat hit the sand, and they lurched to a stop. Mandy’s ass smashed into his erection. “Good choice,” he said through clenched teeth.

The plane was quiet, the sun-soaked passengers lethargic. A Julia Roberts movie was playing on the TV monitors, but Mandy hadn’t bothered to plug in her headphones. She was content to just lean on Damien’s arm, a blanket wrapped over her.

A little different than the trip down. Then she had been avoiding Damien. Now she didn’t want to let him go, knowing this was it. Their last few hours together. But they weren’t talking about that. Damien was telling her about his apartment and the renovations he was making to it, taking down some walls to open up the space.

She was content to just listen to him, interjecting an occasional comment or thought, but mostly she just wanted to feel his nearness, the rumble in his chest as he spoke, the rise and fall of his breathing. The way he squeezed her waist to emphasize a point as he talked.

“Where will you live after the baby is born?” he asked.

“Since Caroline’s getting married and moving to the Upper East Side, I’ll have the room to myself. And Jamie and Allison swear they don’t mind sharing an apartment with a baby, but I don’t know. It seems like a lot to ask of them, with all the mess and the noise. We’ll see how it goes after the baby is born.”

“They must be good friends.”

“They are. The best.” Mandy stifled a yawn, ready for a nap. She was getting addicted to the midday naps she’d been taking on this trip. “I met Jamie in my shop when she was looking for a gift for her niece. She needed another roommate, and we hit it off. That was three years ago. Jamie and Allison went to NYU together, and Allison went to high school in Connecticut with Caroline, so they’ve all known each other awhile. I was the latecomer to the group and yet I feel like we’ve been friends forever.

“You’ll like them,” she said without thinking, sleepy.

“I doubt I’ll ever meet Jamie and Allison, Mandy.”

That jerked her out of her semislumberous state. His words were a harsh reminder of what the rules for their relationship were. Rule number one—there was no relationship.

“You’re right.” She gave a forced laugh. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m just tired.”

She could feel the force of his stare on her, but she refused to look up at him. She didn’t want him to see the neediness she knew would be reflected in her eyes. They couldn’t get involved, she knew that. And if he changed his mind, she might not be able to resist changing hers.

But she had to resist. This was not the time for her to embroil herself in another relationship with a man when she had a baby to think about.

She knew that. She did. But knowing it and liking it were two different things.

“If we could…” Damien kissed the top of her head. “I want you, Mandy, I do. Very much. But I can’t…and I want more for you than I can give you.”

He sounded so anguished, she couldn’t bear it. She turned and looked up at him, taking his chin with her hand. “Hey, hey, it’s all right, Damien. I understand. This is what we agreed on, and this is the right thing to do. But I’m so very glad we had this time together, and the only thing I regret is that it has to end.”

If he said it didn’t have to end, Mandy seriously doubted she could say no to him at that moment. He was looking at her so intensely, as though he wanted to see inside her soul, his grip on her tightening.

But he just said, “No regrets. Just good memories, and that’s more than I expected.”

Somehow that didn’t seem like enough.