Darkest Ecstasy (15 page)

“This way. Once I get you settled, I'll deal with everyone else.” Placing a hand on her back, he steered her toward the stairs. “Do you feel well enough to climb stairs?”

She didn't speak.

Unfortunately, he took her silence as a no, and once again, she found herself being hauled off her feet and carried like a child.

“I can walk, dammit,” she snapped.

“You didn't say so.” Was that a little touch of amusement she heard in his voice? Better not be.

“I'm mad. I don't want to talk to you.”

He didn't put her down until he reached the top of the staircase. When he did, she whirled around and smacked him. Hard.

“Don't do that again,” she yelled.

His lips twitched, and something sparkled in his eyes. He extended an arm, motioning down the hall. “Your room is this way. I'll get you settled and then go get my brothers and the girls.”

She had no intention of getting settled. At least, not until she was at home, in her own bed. That sounded really good right now. The stress of being upset and sick had taken its toll. She was starting to feel run-down and weary.

He opened a door and preceded her into a large bedroom furnished with comfortable-looking, solid, well-crafted furnishings. The wood floor was covered with a plush white oriental rug of some kind. It felt very thick under her feet as she tromped to the bed and plopped down.

The mattress was thick, the coverlet smooth. The room looked expensive and luxurious. This was the lifestyle Angela would marry into. She was going to be very happy. No more worries about being poor and hungry for that girl.

She smoothed her hand over the cover.

“Before I leave I'll bring you something to drink and maybe a little snack. You need to keep up your strength and not become dehydrated,” Tage said as he hurried about the room, closing drapes and pulling open the closet doors. “Let me see if I can find you something comfortable to sleep in.”

“No need for that,” she said.

“Oh. Do you prefer sleeping nude?”

Her face heated instantly as his gaze met hers. “No.”

In the walk-in closet he plunged his hand into a drawer. “How about a T-shirt? This one is big enough to reach your thighs.” He held up a ginormous shirt. It was big enough to fit two of her in it.

“That's fine.”

“Good. Go ahead and change for bed. There are fresh towels in the bathroom and some new toothbrushes on the counter. Then I'll get you something to eat.”

She waved him back, before he'd made it to the door. “Maybe the snack could wait until tomorrow? I'm getting tired.”

His brows pinched. “I won't keep you up for long. I just want to make sure you don't get dehydrated.”

Off he went.

She looked at the shirt in her hands, then at the big, extremely comfortable-looking bed stretched out behind her. And then she glanced at the clock.

It was almost ten. It was no wonder she was tired. Lately, she'd been konking out at nine o'clock. She didn't have to work tomorrow. It was Saturday. Would it be such a bad idea to spend the night here and then go home in the morning?

Maybe not.

As long as he kept his hands to himself.

H
is hand was running up her thigh, and Michelle squirmed as her need grew. She was hot. Burning up. Her need was like a fever, raging through her body, making it tight. Wet. Sighing, she rolled onto her back, offering him full access to every part, her stomach, her breasts, between her legs. His touch was gentle, patient, an exploration. A soft caress. It glided up from her stomach to her breast. She moaned as his hand cupped it, his palm warming her nipple.

Yes. Take me.

His hand moved to her other breast. She felt her spine arching, lifting her breasts up.

“You're mine,” she heard him whisper. “Mine. Forever.”

Oh shit. She wasn't dreaming.

She blinked open her eyes.

The room was dark, but she could see him. He was lying beside her, his head propped up on one hand, elbow bent, the other resting on her right breast.

“What the hell?” She jerked. When he didn't move his hand, she knocked it away.

“I'm sorry. Did I startle you?” he asked.

Was that a chuckle she heard? He was laughing?

“You were fondling me while I was sleeping, you sicko.”

“I thought you were awake.”

“Bullshit.”

His brows lifted. So did the corners of his mouth. He thought this was funny, eh. She would show him funny.

“You're sick!” Grabbing the covers and holding them against her chest, she sat up and stabbed a finger toward the door. “Get. Out.”

“I'd rather not.”

“Too bad,” she snapped.

“This is my bed.”

“Fine. Then I'll leave.” Taking the covers with her, she pushed off the mattress and hurried toward the door, tripping over the blankets and sheets as she ran. She made it to within a few feet of the exit before he grabbed her around the waist and yanked her back until her backside was flush to his front side.

She froze. There was a very large, very prominent protuberance poking at her buttocks.

“You're . . . nude?”

“Yes, of course. This is my home. My bed. I don't sleep in my clothes.”

Wow, that poke felt kind of good. So did having him hold her like that, feeling his heat seeping in through her pores, flooding her system.

She wriggled, trying to get away from him. He released her, but only after she fought him for several seconds. “You didn't tell me this was your bed. I assumed it was a guest room,” she snapped as she stomped toward the door.

“Ah, I understand the confusion then. I couldn't give you a guest room. All of our bedrooms are currently in use. And since you were ill, I didn't think you would want to sleep on a couch. You would have too far to go to get to a bathroom.”

At the exit, she whirled around to say, “Well, isn't that kind of you, thinking of my comfort.” Her gaze snapped to his groin before jerking up to his face. Even in the dark, he looked magnificent. And his cock... his erect cock...

His lips curled into a wider grin. “Yes, it was kind of me.”

Cocky bastard. He caught her looking down there.
Don't do it again. Don't
. She felt her eyes drifting south. “So what stopped you from taking the couch?” she asked his belly button.

He paused, then nodded, his expression sobering. “Selfishness. I came in here to get a blanket, and you looked so warm and soft. I thought I would join you for just a minute, but you cuddled up to me, and it felt so damn good, I didn't want to leave. And to be honest, I did try to get up, but you held on to me.”

“I cuddled up to you?” she asked, recalling, with some horror, little bits of her dream. Had she done anything to encourage him? Had she writhed against him, moaned? Opened her legs? Begged him to take her? “You're lying.”

“No, I'm not.” His gaze flicked to her breasts, which were covered at the moment but still tingling from his touch. “And you know it.”

“I do not.” Dammit, her face was burning with shame. How could she be such a hussy? “I was asleep. I don't know what I was doing while I was sleeping.” The blanket was falling. She yanked it up higher, clutching it in her fists. “The bottom line is, what you did was totally out of line. I am a guest. Do you sneak into the room every time you have a guest and fondle their breasts while they're sleeping?”

“Aha! You remember me fondling your breasts. See? You were awake.”

“No, I was not. That was just... a lucky guess.” It was a good thing the lights were out. He couldn't see how red her face must be.

“Riiiight. A lucky guess. And if you want to know, I do tend to fondle my guests' breasts. And they generally love it.”

“That was a stupid question.”

He chuckled.

She didn't want to like the way the deep sound filled the room. Or how it vibrated through her body. But she did. Despite the fact that he was slightly creepy, climbing into bed with her, nude, messing with her while she slept, she couldn't help noticing how glorious his body was, how insanely gorgeous his face was, how his eyes sparkled when she said something that amused him.

He was too sexy. He was dangerous.

Still standing at the door, she cleared her throat. “I'm feeling better. I should go home now.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

She flipped on a light.

Mistake.

There he was, all six feet something of him. Now well illuminated. His chest. That stomach. The shoulders. That... thick, hard cock.

“Like what you see?” he asked, his smile cranked up to full wattage.

“You're an arrogant ass.”

“It was an honest question.”

“It was not. Besides, it doesn't matter what I like or don't like. You're marrying Angela. I shouldn't be seeing you nude. And you shouldn't be lying in bed with me.”

“Well, Michelle, there's a little problem with that plan. Angela broke our engagement last night.”

She shook a finger at him. “She probably got mad at you for leaving the party. Those kinds of things tend to piss off a girl. She'll change her mind in the morning.”

He shrugged. “Maybe.” He wasn't looking very upset about the broken engagement.

“Most definitely.”

Their gazes tangled and a suspicion flashed through her mind. “You didn't tell her about the baby.”

“Of course I did.”

“You asshole.” She tossed her hands in the air. The blankets fell to the floor, but she didn't care. She was too furious to give a damn about them. “How could you do that to her?”

“She deserved to know the truth.”

“You have no idea how much you've hurt her.”

“Would lying to her be better?” He didn't wait for her to answer. Instead, he continued, “You were going to tell her eventually, correct? She would find out. Wasn't it better for her to know that her ‘best friend' was pregnant with her husband's child before she said her vows?”

Dammit, he was right. She sagged against the closed door. “But that wasn't how I wanted her to find out.”

“I'm sorry if I took that away from you.” Moving closer, he reached for her hand. “I apologize for that much. But I won't apologize for giving her the chance to know what the hell she was getting into by marrying me.”

“You're happy she broke the engagement.”

“Like I said last night, I wanted to marry you from the start.” His fingers curled around her hand.

“Well, don't count your chickens yet, buddy. I didn't say I would marry you.”

His gaze flicked to her stomach. “But the child. You have thought about the child, haven't you?”

“Yes. The child deserves to grow up in a home that is safe and happy.”

He tugged on her hand, coaxing her back toward the bed. “With two parents, a mother and a father,” he continued for her.

She planted her feet. There was no way he was going to get her back in that bed. No fricking way. “Safe and happy doesn't necessarily mean with both parents, together. I'm not sure you and I can live together without killing each other.”

“Then why don't we give it a trial run?”

She laughed. “That's a stupid idea.”

“No, it's not. Millions of couples move in together before they get married, to make sure they can live together.”

“Not this girl. I don't shack up with men. No.”

Tage audibly sighed. He went to the bed, sat. His dick wasn't at full staff anymore, but even at its current state, it was impressive. “Come here.”

“I would rather not.”

“Please.”

“No.”

He tipped his head and gave her a pleading look, and she bit her lip. Damn, did he have some compelling come-hither eyes. “I promise I won't touch you. I just want to talk.”

Her willpower was weakening. Not to mention, she was getting tired. It was sometime in the middle of the night. Her internal body clock was reminding her of that fact.

“Fine.” She grabbed the blanket before shuffling over to the bed. When she sat, she made sure there was a safe distance between them.

He shoved his fingers through his hair. As he did that, his shoulder and arm muscles flexed. They were really nice. He was a beautiful man. Beautiful, but also more than a little overbearing. Controlling. Could she spend the rest of her life with him? She honestly couldn't say.

“You are pregnant with my child. Maybe I haven't presented myself as the most stable and dependable man to you. I did that because I wanted you to know what to expect. I'm not perfect. Actually I'm as far from perfect as a man can get. But I am trying to do the right thing. For you. For our child.”

She pulled the blanket tighter around her. “There are so many things about this situation I don't understand.”

“I get that.”

“Do you really?” When he nodded, she asked again, “Really?”

“Sure. From your perspective I probably look like a complete ass.”

“Well . . .” At his don't-lie-to-me look, she confessed, “Okay, yes. Why did you ask me to marry you, then turn around and ask Angela practically the next day?”

He stared down at his hands for several minutes. “I need to get married.”

“Need to?” That explained him going to Angela after she refused. But it didn't explain everything. “Why?”

“It's a family thing. There are certain expectations my brothers and I must abide by. One of them is to be married. My two brothers have both taken wives. I'm the youngest, the last.”

“This sounds like the plot of a fairy tale or a romance novel,” she said. “What happens if you don't? Will you lose an inheritance?”

“The consequences are a little more serious than that. To be honest, if they weren't, I would have been willing to wait for you.”

She didn't know what to make of this. He had to marry someone for some reason. And quickly. “What consequences?”

“It's complicated.”

He wasn't going to explain it all, but she had the gist. “So what you're saying is if I don't marry you, you'll marry someone else.”

“No, I'm saying that somehow I have to convince you to marry me. Angela was easy. She wanted money, stability. That was something I could promise her.”

“Well, that's going to be one hell of a challenge. Because I won't marry just for stability. I want more. I want everything. Companionship. Friendship. Affection. Love.” She yawned, blinked. Her eyes were dry and scratchy, her body heavy.

“That's okay. I'm up for the challenge.” He flashed a heart-stopping smile as he scooted back until he was reclined against the headboard. He patted the pillow next to him. “But I think you need some rest. Come here. I promise I won't wake you again.”

She sent him a squinty glare. “I don't think I trust you.”

He chuckled, and the way her body responded to that sound made her question whether she could trust herself. “I swear I won't lay a hand on you.” He yawned. “I'm tired, too.” Reaching up, he turned off the lamp. Then, not waiting for her, he slid down under the covers.

She sat there in the dark for a few minutes, listening to his slow, steady breathing. The longer she sat there, the better that bed looked. Finally, she could deny herself no longer. She crawled up to her spot, pulled the covers back, marveled for a moment about the gorgeous hunk of manliness lying next to her, then covered herself up and closed her eyes.

His warmth felt so good. Comforting. The sound of his deep breaths lulled her to sleep.

 

Yes. At last. He had her where she belonged. His Michelle. His wife. His.

He inhaled deeply, drawing in the sweet scent of her skin. He had promised he wouldn't touch her. Impossible. But he would wait until she was asleep.

She whimpered, and a flash of heat ignited deep inside his body. Damn, he hoped he could wait until she fell asleep. His palms burned. His blood simmered.

She was right there, within reach. Her silken hair. Her smooth, satiny skin. Her soft, warm little body. What man could resist?

His hand stirred. He slid it across the sheet and let a single fingertip graze her arm.

“Do that again, and I'll kick you so hard, you'll be singing soprano for a month,” she snapped.

He swallowed a chuckle. His wife was a fiery little thing. If someone had asked him a month ago whether he liked a woman like her, he probably would have denied it. But now that he had gotten to know Michelle, he couldn't imagine her being any other way. She was perfect. The perfect wife. The perfect mother for his children. Stronger than he'd thought. Independent. Determined.

And committed. To her beliefs. To her morals. And soon to him.

When her breathing grew slow and deep, he pulled her little body against his. Yes, she fit there perfectly. His cock hardened. His balls tightened. He bit his lip, closed his eyes, and prayed she would sleep for many hours.