Bedded for His Pleasure: Bedded by a Bad Boy / In the Gardener's Bed / The Return of the Rebel. Heidi RiceЧитать онлайн книгу.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll be back.’ He knelt beside her. ‘You know, Red, you make one hell of a picture.’
She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling shy, but he drew her hands away. He kissed both her palms in turn. The gesture was so gentle, so loving, it made her heart swell.
He stood up. ‘I’ll go get something to clean you up.’
As he headed for the bathroom, his words registered. She felt it then, the stickiness between her thighs. She bolted upright.
‘Monroe.’ He turned, naked and beautiful, and looked back at her. ‘I…’ Her face burned. ‘We didn’t use a condom.’
Monroe could see the fear in Jessie’s eyes. Walking back, he squatted beside her, touched the side of her face.
‘Don’t panic, Red. I don’t have any nasty diseases, I swear. This is the first time I haven’t been properly dressed for the party since I was fourteen.’ It occurred to him that he hadn’t even thought about using a condom.
‘I didn’t even think of that.’ Jessie’s face went an even brighter shade of red. ‘I’ve never done it before without protection either. You know, in case you were worried about me.’
He drew his finger slowly down her cheek, his lips curved.
‘That’s good,’ he said, feeling the swell of pride and possessiveness.
How could she be so untouched and so arousing at the same time? He realised he was starting to stir again. He stood up and reached for the jockeys still tucked into his jeans. He didn’t want to scare her. But as he took a step back towards the bathroom she got up and touched his arm.
‘Monroe, it’s not just, well…’ she swallowed audibly ‘…it’s not just communicable diseases. I’m not on the pill. I could get pregnant.’
Jessie was so embarrassed she wanted to die on the spot. One minute she’d been the flame-haired seductress she’d always wanted to be and the next a silly schoolgirl. Why hadn’t she told him she wasn’t on the pill? She was such a complete idiot.
He went very still and stared at her for what seemed like an eternity. Was he annoyed? she wondered. But he didn’t look annoyed. It was strange, but for a moment she thought he looked sad. Then he simply shook his head.
‘Come here.’ Holding her hand, he threw one of the cushions back onto the sofa, sat on it and pulled her into his lap. Tugging the throw rug off the back, he wrapped it carefully around her. ‘When’s your next period due?’ he asked in a quiet voice.
‘Not for a while. I finished one less than a week ago.’
‘I don’t think there’s much reason to worry, then. You only usually get pregnant in the middle of your cycle.’ He pulled the throw rug to one side, laid a warm palm on her belly and rubbed slowly. When he looked up, his smile was warm, but she could still see that faraway look in his eyes. ‘We’ll make sure we use protection from now on. Okay?’
She chewed her lip. ‘You’re not annoyed with me—for not saying something sooner, I mean?’
He lifted his hand, held her chin and kissed her. His lips were light and tender on hers. ‘I should have asked and I didn’t. I guess we’re both guilty of getting carried away.’ He lifted her off his lap. He leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead and then a long, slow kiss on the lips.
He was so gentle she felt herself getting aroused again. She could see from his boxers that he was aroused, too. She pulled him towards her.
‘Don’t tempt me, Red.’
‘Oh, Monroe.’ She put her palm on his cheek.
He put his hand over hers, drew it down. ‘We can wait till tomorrow for the next round. Anyhow, I need to get some condoms, remember?’
Although Monroe was desperate for her, no way was he going to take her to bed again so soon. He’d seen the heart-melting look in her eyes after they’d made love. Didn’t doubt that she probably thought she was falling in love with him. She was young and naïve and unbearably sweet. A romantic to the core. He was older, much more cynical and had never had a romantic moment in his life. Thank heaven.
He knew that great sex, no, fantastic sex, was all he could give her. So they’d keep things light and simple and they’d both have a good time. He felt okay with it, knowing that he could give her something she’d never had before. That first orgasm was just the start, for both of them. He wouldn’t think about the future because they didn’t have one.
‘I better get dressed.’ Jessie stood up, struggling with the throw. Why did she suddenly feel as if there was a distance between them that hadn’t been there before? ‘I should go.’
‘No, you don’t.’ He swung her up into his arms.
She grabbed for his shoulders and the throw fell away, exposing her to the waist.
‘What are you doing?’ She tried to cling on and pull the throw back up.
‘Forget about that.’ He tightened his arms. ‘I want you naked in my bed tonight.’ He sniffed at her hair. ‘God, you smell fantastic. No way you’re going anywhere tonight.’
She was clinging onto his neck now, his chest hair brushing unbearably against the swollen, sensitive peaks of her breasts. ‘But I thought we weren’t going to do it again.’
He laughed, the sound rough and rueful. ‘Red, you’ve got so much to learn.’ He wiggled his brows, lasciviously. ‘Wouldn’t you know it? I guess I’m gonna have to teach you.’
He didn’t sound remotely put out about it.
Kicking the throw rug away, he sauntered through into the bedroom with her. Bumping the door closed, he whirled her round into the room.
Jessie saw the bed first, a large mattress on the floor, the bed sheets strewn across it, but as he knelt down to dump her on it her head fell back and she caught a glimpse of the blaze of colours over his shoulder.
‘Oh, my goodness, Monroe.’ She scrambled out of his arms and rushed over to the canvases stacked against the wall.
They were strong, bold, striking images. People’s faces, some tender, some touching, others unbearably sad and strong. Stunning landscapes of vibrancy and life. Ugly urban places that had a haunting beauty. Each one of his subjects leapt off the canvas in its own distinct way. His use of colour, of light, of contrast was vivid and demanding, as if he had drawn the emotion out with the paint. She turned back to him, tears forming in her eyes. He stood next to the mattress, watching her, his eyes carefully blank.
‘That bad, huh?’
‘Monroe.’ Walking to him, she placed her palms on his cheeks, searched his face. ‘They’re incredible. You have an amazing talent.’
‘You like them?’
‘Are you joking? I don’t like them. I love them. They’re phenomenal.’ She turned, ran back, picked up a small square canvas of a woman and a girl, standing by a gas pump. The girl, who looked little more than a child, was heavily pregnant. Her eyes shone with bitterness and defiance. The paint strokes were rough, the fierce strength elemental on the girl’s face.
As she studied it Jessie felt her own emotions well up inside her. ‘You’ve captured her so perfectly. Who was she?’
‘Hey.’Walking up behind her, he scooped the tear off Jessie’s cheek, laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘Don’t cry, Jess. The guy responsible stuck by her and so did her mom. She did okay.’
Jessie put the canvas back against the wall, turned to him. ‘I’m not crying because of her. She looks tough enough to wrestle an ox. I’m crying because of your art, Monroe. It’s so exquisite.’
He looked taken aback. ‘You like them that much?’
Monroe