The Child Comes First (13 page)

His warm hand lifted to her cheek, brushed back her hair, caressed her throat. She felt the quiver of desire running through him as he touched her. But then he drew back, and on a shuddering breath, he said, “Drive home, Jayda.”

Her hand shook ever so slightly as she put the key into the ignition and her eyes stung. How could she have misread the signals from him so completely?

As the car began to move, Simon added, “When we get there, you can decide whether you should invite me up to your apartment. If not, I'll take a cab home. But I'll warn you now, if you invite me in, I'm not leaving for a while.”

Relief—she hadn't misunderstood at all. Then panic. He'd put the burden of deciding the outcome of this tantalizing evening squarely on her shoulders. She knew what she wanted to do, knew what she should do, and she wished he would take the responsibility of deciding away from her by sweeping her off her feet. And yet she realized that if he behaved that way, she'd likely find herself freezing up until she couldn't respond to him. She didn't want that to happen again. Not with Simon. So she gripped the steering wheel firmly and drove the car, wondering all the while what she would decide once they arrived at her apartment.

 

S
IMON GOT AS FAR AS THE
doorway of Jayda's apartment before it sank in that she'd invited him up. When she fumbled with her keys, he lifted them from her fingers, swept her into his arms and kissed her the way he'd been wanting to. Sensuously. Deeply. Somehow, he also got the right key into the lock. The door opened and they nearly fell inside. She kicked the door shut as she lifted her mouth to his again. Paradise.

She tasted like wine spritzer and Simon wanted to kiss her all night long. At the same time, he had to have more. While part of him tried to recall the location of the bedroom, his body urged her toward the nearest wall so he could press his torso against hers and intensify the excitement for both of them. He liked the sounds she made, the little moans. He wanted to find out if her heart beat as rapidly as his, so he slid kisses along her throat, searching for the tender pulse point he knew was there.

“Wait,” she murmured. But at least she sounded aroused when that completely undesirable word emerged.

“Why?” he asked, continuing to tease her earlobe with his tongue.

“Because, I…I…” She pushed gently against his shoulders, and after a moment he had sense enough to give way.

“We shouldn't be doing this, is that it?” He'd warned her not to invite him in if she wasn't sure of what she wanted from him. And it seemed clear that her arousal matched his own. “I used to think we should keep a professional distance, too. But now I just want you.” He waited, hoping.

She gave a shuddering sigh, music to his ears. “Bedroom, that way,” she said, pointing. “Just give me a minute to…” And then she disappeared into the bathroom.

Triumphantly, he went to wait for her.

J
AYDA LOOKED AT HERSELF
in the bathroom mirror and saw the panic lurking just beneath the surface. How unbearably frustrating to want something so much and yet feel choked by it, too.

“But you're not being choked,” she told herself firmly. “Simon would never hurt you.”

She wasn't sure she entirely believed that. He could hurt her so easily. He might not even mean to do it, but the pain would be there all the same. If he understood how vulnerable she was right now, he might take extra care. But she couldn't confess her issues to him. Not now. Maybe never. Her mother's voice was still too clear in her memory, deriding her for making too much of what had happened to her. Jayda knew she shouldn't listen, knew that confiding in Simon was the right thing to do. But she couldn't make herself do it. Not yet. Maybe someday.

“He wants you. You want him. Maybe that'll be enough. So get in there and get through this,” she thought. It wasn't as if she hadn't been to bed with a man before. She and Brian had enjoyed a healthy sex life until he'd begun to focus on his career. He'd left her for a transfer to Chicago and he hadn't even seemed too broken up about it. But they'd had a reasonable amount of sex while the relationship had lasted.

Still, sex with Simon would be something altogether different, she felt sure. Someone like Simon wasn't likely to let her retain control, the way Brian had. And that scared her to death. Her theory was that if she could let Simon do his thing sexually—get it over with, so to speak—then her fears might abate. Exposure to your phobias could sometimes be a cure. And no one fit her phobia better—Simon was dominant, masculine, physically intimidating. Inexplicably, those were the characteristics that had attracted her to him. She wondered if he might be the only man who could help her overcome her past.

Besides, if they could get through this one night together, there might be opportunities in the future to adjust their lovemaking to better meet her secret desires.

“Okay, then. Get your game face on. Once we get over this first hurdle, things will be easier.” She stripped off her dress before she could change her mind and headed to her bedroom wearing only her sexy bra and panties, just in case this turned out to be the night she'd both dreaded and longed for. It was gratifying to hear him draw in an appreciative breath, when he saw her standing in the doorway.

Though she quaked with anxiety, she also felt a surge of desire as she admired Simon's physique as he stretched across her bed. He'd kept on his pants, but the jacket, shirt and tie were gone, leaving a wealth of hard, naked muscle for her to enjoy. Shoes and socks had also disappeared and he seemed eager to do her bidding. She wished she could keep him exactly as he was, prone and pliable. But he wouldn't stay that way for long. Minutes from now, he'd be over her, dominating her, pressing her down and taking command. She shuddered.

“You're cold,” he said. “Come let me warm you up.” His smile was inviting, sensual.

So she plunged ahead with her plan. She'd get through it. She might even like it, if she could just keep her mind in the present.

She went to him, and the sensation of his warm hand skimming across her back and thighs felt good. He let her straddle him and that was good, too. When he arched his back and pressed his erection against her, that felt so wonderful she simply gave herself over to the sensation. She rocked her hips tentatively, and felt an unpremeditated moan slip from her lips.

“Yes,” he whispered, and his hands on her body didn't seem to be holding her too tightly. He just guided her gently, easing her motion into a rhythm they could both enjoy. After a moment, he slid his palms along her rib cage, tightened those sexy abs to lift himself so he could reach behind her, unhook her bra and strip the confining thing away from her breasts.

“Yes,” he said again, and he gazed upon her with admiration.

Her hands pressed to his shoulders, Jayda eased him back against the bed again. He went willingly, then smiled when she took his hands in hers and placed them against her chest, inviting him to touch. He was more than happy to accommodate. And as he stroked and teased her breasts and urged her body into full-blown arousal, she began to think that this might be a more fulfilling experience than she'd had any reason to hope for. If he would just stay where he was, let her do what needed doing, keep his testosterone from taking over…

“I need to kiss you,” he said, and then in one fluid motion he had her beneath him on the bed.

His body covered hers and he took charge. And although she'd wanted that kiss, desired his hands on her skin, needed to feel him inside her, the magic evaporated for her. She told herself it would be over soon and that she should just endure it. And she even participated in speeding things along. Unfortunately for her plan, Simon wasn't a stupid man. Nor was he an insensitive one.

“Tell me what you like,” he asked more than once.

“I like this,” she said. A half truth. “I want you.” And that part was true, even if the dynamics were all wrong at the moment.

“I need to please you,” he insisted.

She couldn't understand how he could possibly know she wasn't deep in the throes of pleasure, despite her performance. In desperation, she told him the truth. “Just do it,” she murmured, and she wrapped her legs around him so he'd be sure she meant it.

“Not unless you're with me,” he said, stubborn man. Then he shifted his body over hers, slipping down, clearly intent on using his mouth to bring her to climax.

“Don't!” she called out, her resignation and despair came out with that word. She couldn't help it.

Simon stopped moving instantly and they remained motionless for what seemed an eternity. Completely frustrated, she managed to squirm out from under him and then bolted from the bed. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I can't. I just can't.”

His stunned expression pained her. “I'm sorry,” she said again as she turned away and pulled a T-shirt over her head. “I'm
so
sorry. I thought I could go through with it, but I can't.” Tears burned her eyes, and she struggled to blink them back.

“But obviously you want to,” he protested with utter bewilderment in his eyes. “You can't fake those physical reactions. You just weren't making any progress. If you'd only tell me what you like…”

“I can't.” Oh, this was so complicated. And still she couldn't bring herself to explain. She was nowhere near ready to risk confession. “It's not you,” she tried. “It goes way back. I thought I was better—I thought I could do this.” Whether she liked it or not, tears were now streaming from her eyes and down her cheeks. She swiped at them impatiently. She shouldn't be feeling sorry for herself when she was the one who'd wronged
him.

Simon looked at her for a long moment while the muscles in his jaw flexed and his entire body seemed to tremble with frustration. She deserved every ounce of his displeasure. But after a moment, a measure of real softness came into his eyes.

“Tell me,” he whispered. “Tell me what happened to you.” He sat at the edge of the bed, but he didn't encroach on her space. Did he sense how close to shattering she'd been?

“I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have used you this way. I shouldn't have tried to…to…” She had no way to complete that sentence, so she resorted to covering her face with her hands. But that gesture didn't hide the shame she felt.

“Hush, Jayda,” he said softly. “Don't do this to yourself.”

Then he was there right in front of her, easing his arms around her, holding her tenderly, whispering soothing nonsense. She wept against his shoulder, soaking the shirt he'd slipped back on. She mourned the innocent childhood that had been stolen from her by the unwanted actions of her mother's brother, regretted wasting time on relationships with such weak men and silently castigated herself for her ill-conceived scheme to deal with her past by bedding Simon. She'd used him, and she knew it and he knew it. How could she have made such a mess of things?

“I wish you'd talk to me,” he said, drawing in a breath and releasing it slowly. “But if you're not ready, I won't push you. At the same time, I'm not going to leave you alone when you're this upset. Let's just sit together in the living room. Would that be okay with you?”

She managed to nod. The last thing she wanted was for him to leave. She would never be able to face him again if he did. And if he stayed awhile, maybe she could bring herself to explain. She owed him that, didn't she?

He made her tea, brewing something soothing from a box that had been in the back of her cupboard since she'd moved in six years ago. When he saw that she was shaking, he wrapped a blanket around her. Switching on her TV, he found a chick flick on the movie channel. He settled in beside her and didn't ask a single question.

After awhile, she realized he'd slipped his arm around her shoulders. She found herself leaning on him, comfortingly cradled against his side. Oh, to be held this way—and after what she'd done to him. She felt forgiven, even though she hadn't yet found the courage to tell him why his hopes for a night of lovemaking had been dashed so abruptly. Now, if only she could find a way to forgive herself.

By the end of the movie, drowsiness had set in and her eyelids began to close. She felt his body relax, too, and she wondered if he'd be kind enough to stay the night with her, sleeping alongside her in this blissfully peaceful state they'd unexpectedly reached.

He clicked off the TV but continued to hold her close. In a hushed voice, he said, “I've never had an experience like this before and I don't know what I should do or say. I'm not especially known for my patience. But somehow I can't help feeling you're worth the wait.” He paused, then even more softly he added, “Just tell me if there's hope. I need to know I have some chance with you.”

The vulnerability in his words shifted something inside her. “I want there to be hope for us, Simon,” she murmured. “But I have to figure out a few things, and I can't expect you to wait until I've done that.”

“Maybe we could go slowly and just see what happens,” He kissed her forehead. “Will you let me stay the night, just holding you?”

She nodded and deepened her hug. Maybe she didn't deserve him, but she'd cling to the chance he had just offered. Loving him as she did, she had no other choice.

 

S
IMON AWOKE GRADUALLY
, but he knew he'd have an aching shoulder even before his eyes were open. He'd slept in an awkward position with Jayda nestled beside him all night long. It had been worth the kink in his muscles because she'd said there was hope for them—or at least she wanted there to be hope. That would have to be enough for now. It bothered Simon that she wouldn't tell him exactly what had happened in her past, but he had to believe she would confide in him eventually. For the first time in his life, he would practice patience. He wondered if he'd be able to manage it, and the thought of failing weighed heavily on his mind.

Jayda's expression in sleep was relaxed, youthful and carefree. In complete contrast to her tension of the night before. Simon wished she could be like this with him all the time. He tried not to move, didn't want to waste this peaceful moment, but then she woke abruptly and sat up. He was cold without her nestled against him. “Good morning,” he said.

She turned and her eyes reflected surprise, then almost a smile, then anxiety returning as memories of the night came back to her. “I'm so sorry,” she said, and looked away, embarrassed.

“Don't be. I spent the night with a beautiful woman who promised me there's a chance for us. What more could a man ask for?” He pulled himself up from the depths of the comfy sofa. Giving his muscles a tentative flex, he headed for the kitchen. He had a burning need for coffee.

She followed Simon in search of caffeine and they worked together in silence. She pointed to where the ground coffee was kept, and Simon got the automatic pot going. She set out two mugs, and he found cream in the fridge. As the coffee brewed, Simon watched Jayda lean against the countertop facing the sink, deep in thought. He passed a gentle hand over her shoulder, wanting to ease her tension.

“You asked, ‘What more could a man ask for?'” she said softly. “And I'm thinking a man could ask for a night of lovemaking, when a woman has given him a clear invitation. I feel terrible about that. And you're being far nicer about the situation than most men would be.”

“I'm not most men.” Inside, however, he had to concede she was right. He'd been severely disappointed when he'd realized things weren't going to go as he'd expected. But then he'd seen the shame in her eyes and that had changed everything.

Did he love her? Was he in love with her? Had he really changed into a man who found contentment in sleeping on a couch doing nothing more than hugging, a man he barely recognized, because he loved her?

“No, clearly you're not most men,” she said, and she gave him a weary smile. “Thank you for staying.”

“Thank you for letting me.”

She poured steaming coffee for the two of them. “What will you tell your mother and Tiffany? I suppose you can say you stayed at your condo.”