A Dad for Billie (23 page)

He crossed the few feet between them and gathered her into his arms. His mouth slanted across hers, pressing, seeking, probing as if she were his only lifeline. She parted her lips to admit him and he pushed his tongue inside.

Her hands clutched at his shoulders and back. His hands pulled her closer. Their tongues mated, slipping together, circling, brushing back and forth, drawing sustenance from the contact. She slipped her fingers through his hair. The short strands teased the pads of her fingers. His hands slid down to her derriere and gently
squeezed her curves. Fire licked through her. She strained to get closer, but he held their hips apart. She punished him by forming an O around his tongue and sucking gently. She felt more than heard the moan in his throat and instantly he ground his pelvis into hers.

The hard ridge of his desire pressed against her stomach. She raised on tiptoes to move it toward her needy center. He tore his lips away and took her ear lobe in his mouth. Even as he bent his knees to oblige her wish, he nibbled the sensitive skin.

The combination of sensations—his mouth trailing down her neck, his hands rubbing her derriere, his need rotating against the apex of her thighs—made her feel like screaming.

She spoke his name over and over again, as if the sound would save her from the coming storm. He raised his head and looked at her. She saw the question hovering in his eyes.

“Yes,” she said.

He straightened and reached for the front of her dress. His knuckles bumped her breasts as he worked the small buttons.

“Stupid design,” he muttered.

She reached under his hands and easily opened the front of his shirt. “You’re right.”

He stopped long enough to step out of his shoes and socks and pull the shirt free of his pants. She kicked off her sandals.

When he freed the last button, he drew the sundress off her shoulders. Jane felt a flash of concern. She’d grown up in the last nine years, but not out. Still, he’d known that before they got started here. She squared her shoulders and shrugged out of the dress. It paused at her hips. She gave a slight wiggle and it fell to the floor. Adam’s shirt joined her dress. But instead of looking at her body, he stared into her eyes.

“You still doubt yourself,” he said, tracing the line of her jaw from her ear to her chin. “Hasn’t anyone taught you that you are exactly right?”

She shook her head.

“Then they were fools.”

This was probably the time to tell him that there hadn’t been a lot of men to do the teaching. She’d dated some, in the nine years they’d been apart. Some of those dates had included heavy
petting. But none of them had progressed to lovemaking. At the time she’d blamed it on lack of chemistry or dealing with a toddler or being busy with school. Now she wondered if it was because none of them was Adam.

He moved behind her. When she started to turn to face him again, he held her in place.

“Trust me,” he said.

He moved her hair off one shoulder. From the sweet spot behind her ear, down to her bra strap, he kissed her heated flesh. Shivers racked her body, and her skin puckered. He licked her shoulder, then moved back to gently bite her neck. Her breasts swelled. Her nipples, already hard and eager for his touch, jutted out even more. Her hands fluttered in front of her. She didn’t know where to put them. She started to reach behind her, but he pushed her away.

“Not yet,” he murmured. “Trust me.”

Did she have a choice?

He drew his hands around her waist, then up. She held her breath in anticipation. With one finger and his thumb, he released the front hook of her bra. The white lace drew back, only to catch on her nipples. The friction made her inhale sharply. He pulled at the straps until the garment slid down her arms and fell. Then he wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her back.

“Lean on me.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to make your legs tremble and your body weak.”

That statement practically did the job for him, she thought as she sagged against him. His bare chest felt warm against her back. She rested her hands on his forearms and closed her eyes.

“Watch me,” he said, his mouth breathing the words into her ear. “Watch me touch you.”

She lowered her head to look.

His hands moved up and engulfed her breasts. His palms moved in slow circles, completely covering her. At last, she thought as pleasure shot through her body. It was as if each individual cell had screamed out at his touch. Her head lolled back on his shoulder.

He raised his hands until just his fingers touched her. They circled around and around moving closer to her nipples. Her eyes fluttered.

“Watch!” he commanded.

She did. Her nipples strained forward, eager for their own pleasure. Moisture surged between her legs. Her muscles trembled, as he had promised.

At last he brushed his fingertips across the tips of her breasts. She felt the lightning all the way down to her toes. Her grip on his forearms tightened, and she moaned. Again and again he caressed the puckered skin, making it harder and tighter. Her hips began to rotate in a dance of their own. Her knees threatened to buckle. Her hands longed to touch more of him. But she didn’t want him to stop.

“Adam,” she said breathily.

Moving quickly, so she didn’t have time to register exactly what he was doing, he turned her, then lowered her to the carpet. His shirt and her dress provided a barrier to the rug. Barely pausing to settle her, he continued to touch her breasts. The magic his fingers created made her strain toward him. Pressure built inside. No one had ever taken the time, she realized, to show her how sensitive her body could be.

He lowered his mouth to hers. Wanting to pleasure him, as she was being pleasured, she wrapped her arms around him and went on the attack. When his tongue would have found hers, she sought his out and battled him within his mouth. She traced the edges of his teeth, nipped the inner smoothness of his lips, then sucked on his tongue until he drew back to gasp for air.

And still his hands played with her breasts. At last, when she wondered how long she could endure the glory, he trailed his mouth down her chin and neck and across her chest. She drew in a breath and rose toward him. He pulled away his hands and looked at her.

“Perfect,” he said.

She blushed.

“Still the innocent?” he teased.

She didn’t answer. If only he knew.

He continued to moisten her skin as he moved closer to her
breasts. At last, his mouth closed over one throbbing nipple. The damp heat caused her to jerk and her pelvis to rise toward his. Her hands clutched at him. He suckled her, then circled the beaded tip. Her other breast swelled in anticipation. He didn’t disappoint. As his hand continued the game his mouth had begun, he laved the other side with equal attention.

When she had no breath left, he lifted his head and smiled. She touched his face, the smooth-shaved cheeks, the straight nose, the firm mouth, still wet from his loving her. The rightness of their mating made her fearful of the future, but she pushed away the concerns. They were for later. This was her only point of sanity in a world gone mad.

“You make me tremble,” she said.

“As you do me.”

He drew her panties from her hips and peeled them off her legs. He had done this before, she remembered. Touched her there, before claiming her. It had been mildly pleasant. She was about to tell him he didn’t have to bother, when his finger slipped between her damp curls. He touched some secret spot and she jumped.

He grinned. “I guess that means you’re ready.”

“For what?”

He started to laugh, then saw she wasn’t kidding. His smile faded. “You’ve never had an orgasm.”

It wasn’t a question. They were adults. She was already naked. It shouldn’t have embarrassed her. It did. The heated flush began somewhere around her toes and climbed all the way to the top of her head.

“I can’t,” she whispered, turning her head away.

He lay down beside her on the rug and touched her hair. “Who told you that?”

“No one, but I know.”

“Have you tried?”

She closed her eyes. “I never did with you.”

“Thanks.”

His wry tone made her turn back to him. “It’s not your fault. I was—”

“Yeah, well, could we
not
talk about my lack of performance and get on with the rest of it?”

“I don’t want you to think it was your fault.”

His self-deprecating smile eased her embarrassment. “It was only the two of us, Jane. And you were the virgin. Whose fault was it?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. What about the other men?”

She pulled her hair over her shoulder and studied the ends. “I’ve done a few things but I never—”

“Had an orgasm?”

“Went all the way.”

“What?”

She swallowed. “I didn’t feel the need.”

“It’s been nine years.”

“I can count, too.”

“Jane?” He sounded confused.

“Don’t read more into it than it is. It just never felt right.”

“Does it feel right now?” He touched her breast. She gasped and arched her head back.

“Oh, yes.”

“Good.”

She wanted to wipe that self-satisfied male smirk off his face, but he continued to tease her breasts and it became more and more difficult to remember why.

He moved his head to her chest and trailed his fingers down her stomach. This time she was prepared for the jolt when he brushed that secret spot. She wasn’t prepared, however, for him to keep touching it. The contact created an aching pressure inside. She shifted her legs as if that would help her ease her need.

“Adam?” she asked, confused by what was happening inside. She needed him to stop. No, that wasn’t right. She needed him to never stop.

“Hush. Trust me. Just feel it. I won’t hurt you. And I won’t let you fall.”

Fall? She was lying on the floor. Where was there to fall to? Then he began to move faster and she didn’t have the presence of mind to ask questions. Her world shrank down to his mouth
and his hand. She vaguely felt his erection pressing into her leg. She should let him satisfy himself, she thought as her hips began to rotate in time with his fingers. Not just yet, she told herself as the pressure built.

Her breathing came in short gasps. His fingers danced around and around working their magic until she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but feel.

Falling. He was right. She could fall because he took her so high. Her muscles tightened until she thought she’d snap. He moved faster. She was going to fall. It was the only thing that would save her. But she was afraid. She didn’t understand this or know what to do. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Adam.

She drew in her last breath and exhaled his name. He sucked deeper on her breast and the ground shifted. Her muscles rippled as she sailed out into nothing and began her free-fall back to the world. Pleasure surrounded, supported, carried her forward. Adam caught her as she neared the bottom of her descent. He held her close and promised she’d be safe forever. She’d known that, she saw in a moment of clearness. That’s why she’d come home.

“Be in me,” she whispered, parting her legs in invitation. “Feel this with me.”

He quickly shed his trousers and briefs, then positioned himself between her thighs. Their gazes locked. Need and desire and pleasure at her release lit his dark irises. She wondered if she looked as satisfied as she felt. His hardness probed. She lifted herself toward him. He withdrew and frowned.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I don’t have any protection with me. This wasn’t planned.”

“Don’t worry.” She smiled shyly. “I’m okay.”

“Good. Because I didn’t know how I was going to stop.”

He plunged inside her, filling her with his arousal. This wasn’t the uncomfortable pressure she remembered. Her body shivered as a last wave of her pleasure rippled through her. Adam groaned.

“You could feel that?” she asked.

He lowered himself until they could kiss. “Every quivering muscle. It’s heaven. You’re heaven.” His mouth claimed hers.

He continued to thrust into her, the long slow strokes causing her to tighten around him. Every time he moaned his satisfaction, she felt her insides tremble. She drew back her knees and closed her eyes. The ascent began.

This time she knew what to expect from the journey. She reached forward, grasping his buttocks and pulling him closer. His thrusts grew faster, deeper.

“More,” she gasped out, her lungs barely able to draw in enough air. She met him stroke for stroke. In her mind’s eye, she saw the frightened girl she’d been, lying limply beneath Adam’s hungry body. She remembered the ineptness and feeling of failure that had swept over her as he’d groaned his release. She’d been afraid and confused and too much in love to risk voicing her concerns and displeasing him. She’d grown up, she thought as she surged forward to meet him. His body grew harder, thicker inside her. His hips bucked under her hands.

She opened her eyes. His face, a tight mask of tension and raw desire, made her own need increase tenfold. She was his equal now.

He looked at her. The shutters fell away as if they’d never been in place. He smiled slightly, then held her hips and pressed in farther. She was so close. Too close. He reached one hand between their bodies and touched her. His thrusts stopped suddenly as his fingers circled her secret core. Then he moved faster, deeper and she sailed out into the ecstasy. The ripples within her milked his hardness. He cried out her name.

They held each other as they fell.

*

Even the crickets were silent. Adam pulled the sheet up over Jane’s shoulder and watched her sleep. It was hours past midnight. Sometime after they’d first made love, they’d climbed to her bedroom. There, against the soft cushion of the mattress, she’d shown him that she was a quick study. Even now, his body hummed with the pleasure of her touch.

He was weary. Pleasantly so from their lovemaking. And emotionally from all that had happened. In less than thirty-six hours, he’d found out he was a father, been accepted by Billie and made love with Jane. The latter, he acknowledged, was a reaction to
the former. They were both too near the edge to not succumb to the temptation. It didn’t mean anything.