I Know Who Holds Tomorrow (34 page)

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Authors: Francis Ray

BOOK: I Know Who Holds Tomorrow
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If he wanted a fight, he had come to the right place. “What could possibly be so important that it can't wait until tomorrow?”
“Wes was my half-brother.”
M
ADISON SANK IN THE nearest seat. “Your half-brother? But that … that would mean …”
“A.J. Reed is my father.”
“Your father?” Madison was aware that she was parroting, but she wasn't able to help herself. “Your mother …”
His mouth flattered into a hard line. “My mother loved the bastard. She believed every lie he told her, but he married Vanessa. Vanessa's family had social connections if little money. She had more to offer than the daughter of a laborer.”
“D-did Wes know?”
“He knew. We bloodied each other's noses over it more than once.” He paced away than back. “I found out who my father was when I was in the tenth grade. Seeing Wes in his new Corvette while I walked, his expensive clothes, his big house, put me in a rage. I took it upon myself to tell him after school when I caught him alone. We fought like two wild dogs.
“I came home bloody and angry at the world, at what I thought I had been deprived of. I told my mama how I felt, and hurt her. For the first time my stepfather looked at me with something other than pride.”
“You were hurting.” She defended him. Years later he continued to hurt. “They understood.”
“It doesn't excuse how I acted.” He walked to the French doors and stared out at the night. “I took it upon myself to introduce myself to A.J. You know what he said?”
Madison's stomach knotted. “Please, don't.”
“He said he had a lot of bastards, but he only had one son.”
Nausea rose in her throat. Fury propelled her across the room. “You make a hundred A.J. Reeds. Don't you dare let his stupidity cause you to feel less.”
He almost smiled. “I don't. Through the years I learned I got the best of the deal.” He brushed her hair back from her face. “I only envied Wes one thing.”
Her breath caught.
His hands came to rest gently on her shoulders to keep her from retreating. “He was my brother and I loved him, and I mourn him, but I can't stop thinking about you.”
A odd mixture of fear and anticipation swept through her. “You shouldn't—talk that way.”
His smile was heartbreakingly sad. “You might as well tell me to stop breathing.”
“We can't do this,” she told him, her body trembling.
“Too late. Much too late.” With infinite tenderness he pulled her into his arms, his head lowering until their mouths met, their breaths mingled, their hearts touched.
She couldn't seem to think clearly. Everything seemed centered on the kiss. She'd never been kissed as if she was all that a man desired, as if she was all that mattered to him, as if all his attention was focused on pleasing her.
His hand slipped beneath her blouse to close over her breast. Her breath caught, then snagged as his thumb and finger closed around her nipple. She moaned his name. “Z-Zachary.”
His hot mouth took the place of his hand. He suckled. With a little whimper, Madison's knees buckled. Lifting her in his arms, he lowered her to the sofa then came down on top of her, his mouth taking hers again.
She wanted to feel his skin. She had to. Impatiently she unbuttoned his shirt and shoved the fabric aside. She sighed in pleasure as she ran her hands across his muscular flesh. “You feel so good.”
He nipped her bottom lip. “Not as good as you feel or taste.”
She licked his nipple like a hungry cat licking cream. He groaned, then made short work of the rest of her clothes, then his own. He took care of protecting her, then came back to her. His questing fingers found her hot and wet.
“I love you, Madison,” he told her as he entered.
She tried to speak, but words wouldn't come. She'd never felt such exquisite sensations, never wanted to give as she did now. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, and gave herself to him body and soul. He gave back, again and again.
“Come with me.”
She was helpless not to. The husky, whispered words in her ear lured her. His moans of pleasure doubled hers. His muscled hardness fascinated her. His big body pressed against her felt deliciously decadent. His callused hands sent spirals of heat racing through her.
“You're all that I desire.”
He pleased her, undid her, made her feel reborn. “Zachary.”
His hands gripped her hips, his powerful body surged into her moist heat again and again. The pleasure mounted. All Madison could do was hold on and follow.
Instinctively she wrapped her legs around him, caught the rhythm, let the sensations sweep her up, then she was falling. With a hoarse shout of gratification, he followed.
 
 
Madison roused to feel to the hardness and warmth of Zachary's body next to hers. Resistance didn't enter her mind as he rolled on top of her and entered her. His eyes watched desire sweep through her, over her. The loving was slower, but just as passionate. Madison felt her body tighten, then she went over, secure in Zachary's arms.
She lost count of the number of times they loved each other. If he was insatiable, then she was more so. It was as if she were in a thirsty wasteland and Zachary was her rain.
The next time she awoke it was morning and she was in her bed alone. Sitting up, the sheet dropped from over her bare breasts. The crib was empty. A glance at the bedside clock told her why. Eight-thirty.
Grabbing a robe from the closet, she felt the weight of the gold bracelet from Tiffany's on her arm. Zachary had put it back on last night. It was the only thing she had worn during the night. Thoroughly pleased with herself and him, she slipped on the robe and went to find Zachary and Manda.
They were in the den. Zachary's back was propped against the sofa, his
knees raised to support Manda's back as he clasped her hands and played pat-a-cake. Love filled her heart for both of them.
He glanced up and smiled. “Good morning, beautiful.”
Smiling, she knelt on the floor by them. Her hair was a wreck. She had no makeup on, but he thought she was beautiful. With Zachary, she felt beautiful. She kissed them both. “Good morning.”
“Ma-da.” Manda crawled from one to the other.
Zachary's arm curved around them. “We tried to let you sleep. You must be tired.”
With an impish smile on her face, she looked up at him. “I wonder why?” She grinned when he blushed.
“Later I'm going to have to make you pay for that.” He kissed her, then stood and helped her to her feet. “Now I have to go to work.”
Disappointment slumped her shoulders, but she managed a smile. “You have time for breakfast?”
“Manda and I had a bowl of cooked cereal. Is it all right if I take a shower here? That will save time.”
“If Manda was asleep, I'd scrub your back,” she teased, enjoying herself immensely.
His eyes darkened. “I'm going to remember that.”
“I'm counting on it.”
 
 
Staring down at Gordon asleep in his bed, Camille brushed her finger tenderly across his cheek. He smiled. Trembling, she folded her hands on her lap. She'd done it now. She'd fallen in love. There was no escape. She loved him irrevocably, hopelessly. Slipping from the bed, she put on Gordon's short robe that was becoming hers, and headed for the kitchen. The moment called for breakfast in bed.
Her lips twitched at the thought. She hated to cook, but couldn't wait to make Gordon's breakfast. He'd be so surprised. For the past two days they'd been together, he'd done the cooking if they were at home. They'd quickly discovered they preferred being at home and together, than being out.
In the kitchen, she began opening cabinets trying to decide what to prepare. There was a rosebush in the back by the arbor. She'd put a rose
on his tray. She'd get him the morning paper. After breakfast they'd make slow, lazy love.
“You're not the maid.”
“Or the cleaning lady.”
Camille whirled. Adrian and Adair. There was no doubt in her mind, even if the good-looking duo didn't look like their father or Camille hadn't seen the many photographs of them in his office and throughout the house. “I—” What could she say?
Adrian pulled his backpack from his shoulder and laid it on the butcher block in the center of the kitchen. “
Habla español
?”
“Parlez-vous français?”
“Sprechen sie Deutsch?”
Adair placed her oversized bag beside her brother's. “There are too many African dialects to run through. So …” In sign language she asked Camille her name.
“That's enough, showoffs.”
Camille almost slumped in relief at seeing Gordon. Apparently his children were as precocious and brassy as they came. Just like their father. “Uh, if you'll excuse me.”
Gordon caught her by the arm as she began backing out of the kitchen. “Camille Jacobs, my children, Adrian and Adair.”
Adrian bowed from the waist.
Adair curtsied.
Camille blinked. “H-Hello.”
“We might as well get this over with. Let me see them,” Gordon said to his children. Neither twin moved. “Now.”
Sharing a long-suffering look, they went to their father and stuck out their tongues.
Gordon relaxed. He never knew what to expect from his independent children whose IQs were in the mid-140s. “I would have hated to kick you out of the house.”
“Ms. Jacobs, do you feel people have a right to express themselves?” Adrian asked.
Camille would have had to be a dummy not to know she had just been handed a ticking time bomb. “I—”
“That's an unfair question,” Gordon interrupted.
Adair lifted a naturally arched brow. “Are you one of those women who lets a man speak for her?”
“No,” Camille answered without hesitation.
“Excellent.” Adair grinned triumphantly. “Your answer, please.”
“It depends on the form of expression and, of course, the age of the one expressing him- or herself,” Camille answered. “Too often young people bow to peer pressure and do things they would never think of doing otherwise. Then there are those who aren't expressing themselves, they're rebelling. Unless a person is mature and self-sufficient, I think all life-altering decisions should have parental approval.”
Gordon laughed and hugged her to him. “Couldn't have said it better. There'll be no more talk about piercing your tongues. Go put your things away and I'll start breakfast.”
Grabbing their belongings, the twins started from the room. Camille figured it was a great time to make her escape. “I'll say good-bye now. It was nice meeting you.”
Gordon caught her arm again. “Why are you leaving? We'd planned to spend the day together.”
“Gordon.” Camille flushed and glanced toward the twins.
“I told them about us. That's why they came home.”
Camille absorbed the information, then hit Gordon in the chest with the flat of her hand. “You knew they were coming and you didn't tell me. You let them walk in here and find me in a robe?”
“I didn't plan on oversleeping.” She flushed again, but he wasn't finished. “I didn't tell you because I knew you'd make up an excuse to leave.”
“What have I told you about your arrogance?” she asked, her voice rising.
“So sue me. I love you!” he said, his voice just as loud.
The fight went out of her. “I told you to stop saying that.”
“I love you. You might as well get used to hearing it because I'm not going to stop saying it. I've loved you since you drove away from me at the meeting of the National Council of Negro Women.” He gently but firmly pulled her into his arms. “I'm not about to stop. I know I'm older than you.”

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