Marriage On Demand. Susan MalleryЧитать онлайн книгу.
with sun-warmed rain. Her toes curled and her fingers gripped the edge of the table. When she thought she would go mad from the bliss, he moved his head slightly, brushing her lips. More heat, fiery heat, flared between them. She gasped for breath. His tongue reached out and touched the tip of hers. Before she could melt in place, he released her and rose to his feet.
She sank back in the chair and listened to the thundering of her heart. Her hands were shaking, her breasts felt inflamed, that secret place between her thighs throbbed painfully. She didn’t dare look at him. What if he hadn’t felt the same reaction?
She caught her breath. What if he had?
Without saying a word, Austin stood up and stalked across the room. He opened the armoire and pulled out a pale garment, then walked back to her.
“Here,” he said, tossing it to her.
She grabbed the item, then stared at it. A man’s T-shirt, she thought. But what—
“It should be big enough for you to wear to bed.”
She stared at him.
He cursed again. “Alone. Damn it, Rebecca, stop it. It’s late. You’re tired. You take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch. In the morning you’ll be out of here, and we’ll pretend this never happened.”
She didn’t point out that it was still quite early. She was too curious about what the “this” they were to pretend never happened was. What had happened between them? A brief kiss? Or something she hadn’t realized? She drew her eyebrows together and wished she were a little more experienced at the whole man-woman thing.
“I don’t want to go to bed yet,” she finally blurted.
“No one is asking your opinion,” he said sharply. “You’re reacting to the situation and probably to the trauma of the fire earlier this week. It doesn’t have anything to do with me, and I’m not going to be responsible for your regrets come morning. I might be a bastard, but I’m not a complete jerk.”
Now she was really confused. She dropped the T-shirt on the table and rose to her feet. After tightening the belt of her robe, she shoved her hands into the deep pockets and looked at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. One minute we’re having a nice conversation about our lives and the next you’re kissing me, then sending me to bed.”
He circled around the table until he was standing in front of her. They stood close enough for her to feel the heat of his body. She supposed she should have been nervous or afraid, but she wasn’t. Despite what everyone said, deep inside, Austin Lucas was a nice man. Only someone nice would donate his house to needy orphans. How was she supposed to resist him?
“I’m not your damned fiancé,” he said, his eyes flashing like the storm. “I know.”
“That’s my point. You want me because I’m different, and dangerous. You want me to help you forget. You want me to be the exciting bad thing in your life. You want me in your bed.”
She couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d slapped her. How had he guessed? Had she been that obvious?
“I—I don’t want you,” she stammered, knowing she was blushing and praying the candlelight was faint enough that he wouldn’t see the color flaring in her cheeks. All her confidence disappeared like smoke in the wind. She turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm and held her in place.
“Did you hope I wouldn’t see what you were thinking?” he asked, his voice low and husky.
She moaned softly, shame joining embarrassment.
“Did you imagine I couldn’t read the fantasies, Rebecca, that I didn’t notice you staring at me, wanting to touch me, wanting me to touch you?”
It was worse than her dream about showing up naked at church. She felt as if someone had stripped her bare and was now mocking the pitiful being she was inside. Her soul felt raw, scourged by the sharp edge of his words. She had to get out, run away and hide. He was laughing at her. Making fun of her. She wanted to die.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, trying to turn away. Tears threatened. She blinked them back, but it wasn’t enough. One rolled onto her cheek. “Just let me go. I’ll never bother you again.”
He released her arm, but before she could step away, he placed his hands on her shoulders and drew her close.
“Damn you, Rebecca Chambers, don’t cry. I warned you I was a bastard. Why couldn’t you have listened? I’m not trying to hurt your feelings. I want you to understand that I’m nothing like the man you think I am. There’s nothing good in me. Forget me. Find another Wayne and have babies.”
His gentle words washed over her, easing some of her exposed rawness inside. His body was warm and hard, offering shelter and comfort. She sniffed back her tears until he touched her hair. The tender stroking of his palm on her head was more than she could stand.
Her sob caught her by surprise. Her whole body shook. “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to get control. “I—I’m not usually like this. I think it might be the f-fire and everything.”
“I know. It’s okay. You cry as much as you want.”
She didn’t want to cry at all, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. His strong arms wrapped around her, holding her safely in his embrace. His heartbeat was steady against her cheek. She cried for all she’d lost, for the children’s fears and her own. She whispered her concerns, about lying alone at night and wondering how she was supposed to keep it all together. She confessed that the responsibility scared her sometimes, but she kept on because there was no one else.
When the sobs had faded to sniffles, she became aware of the fact that her mouth rested against the bare skin of his chest. He was damp from her tears, yet still warm and smelling faintly musky. Through the thickness of her robe—his robe—she could feel the length of his legs, but little else save his heat. His hands moved up and down her back with long, comforting strokes. His chin rested on her head and he spoke quietly to soothe her.
“You must think I’m a fool,” she said, knowing she should pull away, but not wanting to.
“No. I think you’re very special. I’m sorry I said anything. I didn’t want to hurt you. I was trying to make you see that I’m not anyone’s idea of a fantasy lover.”
“I don’t want a fantasy.”
His hands grew still.
She raised her head until she could stare at him. “You’re right, Austin. I do—” she searched for the right word “—think you’re attractive, partially because you’re nothing like Wayne. But I don’t have a romantic fantasy about you. I don’t know you well enough to be picturing home and hearth.” She swallowed hard. He’d apologized to her, but she was the one who’d started the whole thing. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. If I’d known you could tell what I was thinking, I would have thought about something else.”
His gray eyes flickered with some emotion she couldn’t read. His mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I wasn’t complaining,” he said. “I was trying to explain why I was turning you down. I won’t deal with your regrets.”
“And if I promise not to have any?” she asked without thinking.
“Rebecca.” His voice was a low growl. She felt it vibrate in her own chest and realized her breasts were plastered against him. She thought about pulling away, but didn’t. A wave of courage surprised her. She might never have this chance again.
In a way he was perfect for her. As he’d pointed out, he wasn’t interested in a relationship. She’d already figured that one out on her own. He was wild and experienced. She would never choose to fall in love with someone like him. Which was what made him so safe. She was a twenty-nine-year-old virgin, and she needed a man to fix that. She’d recently started dating, but had always broken things off before they got serious. She didn’t want to have to explain about her condition. She’d tried