Chapter 9 #2
"I'm attracted to you." He dragged restless fingers through his already tousled hair. "I came back to tell you that I think we should have a go at this marriage thing for real."
"Do you still feel that way?"
"Yes." His eyes met hers. "What about you?"
She lifted her hands, palms out. "I am defective."
"What?"
"You heard what I told the doctor. I might not be able to have kids-" She swallowed a larger lump. "That's the reason, or part of the reason, I wasn't in a relationship for a long time."
"Define long."
"More than two years."
His brows lifted. "That's a damn long time."
"Yes." She fidgeted with the throw blanket and avoided his eyes. "You're Brant O'Keefe, and you're going to want an heir or two. I'm not a sure bet. We should stick to the arrangement."
He took her chin in his hand, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Is that what you want?"
"No," she admitted, after struggling to figure out if she wanted to lie. "But what I want is irrelevant. I should be thinking about you and what you want. You were forced to marry me because you're kind and good and you felt sorry for me-"
"Stop that," he ordered. "I'm not kind and compassionate.
I'm selfish, and I felt sympathy for your plight.
I don't pity you. I could have thrown some money your way, but I wanted something more.
Yes, at first it was just an arrangement, but it quickly became something more.
And running away from it did not solve the problem.
I want you a hell of a lot. I want to make love to you, Indigo, and I'm going to.
" His eyes lowered to her lips and sent sparks shooting through her body.
"I cannot be near you and not want to kiss you. "
"Then kiss me," she whispered. Her hands lifted to settle on his chest. "I've been hoping you would ever since the night of the party."
"And I messed things up." His thumb rubbed her bottom lip until it parted.
"I was so jealous, I wanted to murder that bastard.
I behaved like a fool, and it staggered me.
" His voice had deepened. "As for wanting children, we'll wait to hear what John has to say.
" His head lowered until he was close enough for her to feel his breath on her skin.
"I just want to taste-" He brushed his lips on hers slowly, almost delicately, as if waiting for her to stop him.
When she didn't but curled her fingers into the softness of his sweater, he eased out a breath, his mouth moving over hers.
She tasted like honey, he thought faintly, and he figured it was his mind going crazy.
Edging closer, he used his free hand to tangle through her coils, gripping the back of her head.
Her hands went around his shoulders, a moan escaping her only to be captured by his mouth.
"Are you hurting?" he asked raggedly.
"No. Don't stop. If you do, I will have to hurt you."
His chuckle turned into a groan when she opened up to him.
His tongue tangled with hers, the taste of her sending heat to the center of him.
He was hardening by degrees. She snuggled against him, her breasts branding his chest through his sweater.
He seized her tongue with a hunger that startled her at first.
His hands roamed restlessly up and down her back and returned to tangle in her hair, holding her still as he devoured her mouth.
He kissed her endlessly, bearing her back on the cushions to stretch out on top of her.
He could not stop. Her fingers dug into his hair, and then his shoulders and down his back, her body writhing beneath his.
He was rock hard and growing harder. At some point, he was going to have to cease.
He could not go any further, but God help him, he was starving for her.
Her sweetness overwhelmed him. Her passion went through his body like an electrical charge.
Not satisfied with just her lips, he raised himself off her just enough to tug the sweater up and over her head.
His eyes roamed over her breasts that were clearly revealed in the black silk of her bra.
Using one hand, he flicked the front clasp to free the flesh to his avid gaze and eased the straps off slowly, his eyes holding hers.
"You're beautiful," he told her thickly.
"And I want you so much, it's making me throb.
" Bending his head, he fitted her breasts in his palms, thumbs flicking over the already rigid nipples.
Her body arched in immediate response. With his heart slamming against his ribs and his already tormented body reacting to her passion, he ducked his head and took a nipple into his mouth.
The heat escalated. Indigo felt the jolt straight to the core of her.
The tenderness in her abdomen, a leftover from the pain she had experienced not too long ago, made her insides throb.
With fingers digging into his hair, she twisted her body up to receive more of the excruciating pleasure he was giving her with his mouth.
He was thorough. His tongue and teeth tortured her until she could not bear it.
Switching to the other nipple, he gave it the same treatment until she was on fire. The pleasure was so much that she was feeling the heat scorching through her already weakened body.
Brant felt the control slipping away. He could smell her; the muskiness of her arousal was driving him out of his mind. The fever of wanting her was taking over his body and his mind. He could not think. Letting go of her nipple, he kissed his way down her quivering stomach.
She somehow managed to rise out of her drugged state when he started to tug down her leggings. Her mind snapped out of the sexual daze his kisses had put her in when she realized what he was doing. She was also soaking wet!
"No! Brant, stop." Pushing him away, she scrambled backwards on the cushion, chest heaving and body trembling.
"What-"
"I'm wet."
"Of course you are. That's no-" His eyes cleared as understanding of what she was trying to say hit him like a ton of bricks.
Leaping up from the sofa as if he was on fire, he stared at her in horror.
"Oh, good Christ!" he groaned. Closing his eyes briefly, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweats as reality hit him.
"Are you hurting?"
"No. It's just that-" She hated that she had to stop him when everything felt so wonderful. "I think I might have to take a shower."
"Oh. Oh!" Lifting a hand, he dragged his fingers through his hair. "I think I need to take one too." He turned to leave. "Do you need help?"
"No." She shook her head and prayed that she had not messed up the wonderful blue material of the sofa. "Go ahead. I'll use the shower in my room."
With a curt nod, he turned and walked out.
Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes and expelled a shaky breath.
Springing off the sofa when she felt the trickle, she peered frantically at the spot she had just vacated and expelled a sigh of relief to see it unsullied.
Hurrying from the room, she quickly made her way up the stairs and to her suite of rooms.
"What are you doing?" He came back half an hour later, during which he had to stand under the jet spray and take a much-needed and necessary cold shower.
"We never had breakfast. I made oatmeal."
"You should be resting. The medication should be taking effect now."
"I have to make some calls to suppliers and to the store." She placed a bowl in front of him and smiled at the frown on his forehead.
"Trust me, it's very good. I also made a fresh pot of coffee."
Ignoring that, he came around and turned her to face him, his hands on her shoulders.
"I meant what I said before. I want to try and make this work."
"So do I." Her eyes dropped to his lips, and he felt the familiar stirring of desire.
Shaking his head, he released her and stepped back. "I cannot take another cold shower," he told her dryly. "The water was so bloody cold, I had to stand in front of the hearth to thaw myself out." Sitting down, he bent a wry look on her when she started laughing. "It's not funny."
"No, it's not." She poured coffee for herself and sat across from him. "Are you sure about this? Us together."
He nodded, scooping up oatmeal and tasting it. "This is very good."
"I told you. It's my mother's recipe."
"I'm going to instruct Mrs. Holt to move your things into my suite."
His words fortified her and buoyed her spirit enough for her to tackle the mattress in the room she had been staying in.
When he ordered her to leave it, she told him her pride would not bear the thought of someone else being a witness to her mess.
She preferred to clean it herself. So armed with a spray bottle of bleach, she tackled the mattress first and scrubbed until only a faint spot was left.
Next, she hauled the sheets down to the laundry room, thanking God that he had retired to his home office to deal with some work stuff.
Spraying stain remover on the spots, she dumped them into the washer and went to make herself a cup of tea. Her abdomen was still tender, but thankfully, the medication the doctor had given her seemed to be working.
By the time he was through with his work, she had succeeded in getting the blood stains out and left them in the dryer.