Beyond Ordinary Love Page 19

  His shocked gaze flew to her face.

  “Where is your bra, madame?”

  She cupped herself and offered her nipples up to him.

  “Didn’t I just say I like feeling close to you?”

  He stared at her and noted, she was sure, the way her nipples were larger and darker now, her breasts fuller.

  “And what have you done to your breasts since I’ve been gone?” he asked, his voice rougher.

  “I’m trying to grow a baby here. If that’s okay with you…?”

  He muttered a curse. Bent down for some frantic nuzzling and licking. Straightened and used his shaky hands to undo her jeans and strip them and her underwear down her legs with much squirming help from her. Ripped off his jacket and yanked the sweater over his head.

  Loomed over her in all his muscular and bronzed glory as he undid his own jeans and freed himself.

  “You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he said, his accent very thick. “How do you expect me to control myself?”

  “I’ll be very disappointed if you control yourself,” she said, opening her arms.

  He hesitated, some dark emotion twisting his features.

  She cupped his face, trying to smooth away the frown. “What is it?”

  “You’re so worried about me leaving you. Do you ever consider what it would do to me if you were the one who left?”

  He couldn’t have given her a more startling view of the world if he’d stood her on her head and gave her goggles to wear.

  “No.”

  “You should.” His sparkling tears were the last things she saw as he lowered his head. “You should.”

  His kisses were deep and thorough. Alternatively demanding and coaxing, switching up just as she thought she knew what he wanted. The result? He left her breathless and frustrated. Desperate for more.

  “Baptiste…”

  She bowed into him, scraping her nails up his back in her drive to get him close enough. She wished she could convey what he did to her when his hands swept over her body like this, relentlessly seeking and finding secret nerve endings and hidden spots of rapture until every part of her body hummed with delight.

  It seemed important to make him understand that no one else did her like this…that with each passing day they kept passing points of no return… that she was his, no matter how scary that seemed at times.

  But her eyes rolled closed and her thoughts went dark and quiet, until only sensation remained:

  His low rumbles and her breathy replies, all of it unintelligible.

  The clean scent of his shampoo and sophisticated musk of his cologne.

  The flexing and releasing of the powerful muscles running down his back and arms.

  The silky glide of his skin beneath her hands.

  The voluptuous feel of his tongue filling her mouth. Its minty flavor. The taste that was only him.

  And then, finally, the unyielding hardness of his dick as he thrust inside her, burying himself to the hilt with a hoarse groan.

  Samira cried out in a startled moment of clarity.

  Yesss.

  This.

  She clenched her inner muscles, reveling in him as he balanced on his forearms and found a driving rhythm designed to give her the most exquisite pleasure imaginable.

  Perfectly timed and placed thrusts, over and over again, into infinity.

  Her body acted on its own, answering by arching beneath him and drawing up her legs until her thighs hugged his torso and her ankles crossed at the small of his back. Whispering encouragement without using any words at all.

  Every surge of his hips hit her sweet spot just right.

  And he left her nothing to do but feel.

  Nowhere to go that the pleasure wouldn’t overtake her.

  The inevitable orgasm rolled over her with an anguished Ah, God that was at complete odds with the piercing waves that spasmed through her pussy and belly, radiating to every corner of her body so he could lay claim to it all.

  He kept going and going, not caring that he’d already ruined her long ago, forcing her to cry out every time his pivoting hips caused another electric jolt of sensation to streak through her.

  Sweat gleamed across his forehead and collected where his hard chest rubbed against her ultra-sensitive pregnancy nipples, and she didn’t care. His heavy body pressed her deep into the mattress, making it harder and harder for her to breathe, and she didn’t care.

  With her body so full of rapture, there was no room for anything else.

  She could have died in that moment, and she wouldn’t have cared.

  But she wanted him to die with her, so she bore down, tightening her inner muscles, and his rhythm collapsed into wild thrusts that drove her up the bed. Then she smacked him, hard, on the ass, and he shouted her name as his head dropped down to rest on her shoulder.

  He shuddered against her. The world went quiet except for the harsh rasp of his breath in her ear.

  They caught their breath eventually. He rolled onto his back until she lay bonelessly on top of him. His fingers trailed up and down her spine, keeping her primed and alert.

  “So my trip home was not a waste of time after all,” he said lazily.

  She laughed and started to smack his biceps, but he grabbed her hand and kissed it.

  “You Americans are so violent as a culture,” he said. “You should work on that.”

  “Keep talking. You’re going to force me to groin-strike you.”

  “Don’t do that. You like my groin very well.”

  “True,” she said, sighing and resting her head again. “I love your groin.”

  “And you love me,” he added softly.

  She kissed his chest. “And I love you.”

  He rolled her again so that they were side by side and he could see her face.

  “What is it like, being pregnant?”

  She smiled, bemused.

  “Well…there’s some nausea. Breast tenderness. A little tiredness.” She shrugged. “That’s about it.”

  “But how did you feel?”

  She hesitated, fighting the urge to keep her hopes low. As a healthy pregnant woman who wanted the baby and was in a loving relationship with the baby’s father, she had more right to be happy than anyone else in the world. Her glass was more than half full.

  Baptiste didn’t have any doubts about their little family.

  From now on? Neither would she.

  “I feel happy,” she admitted. “The happiest I’ve ever been.”

  He grinned. “That makes two of us. But we have to get our geese in a row.”

  “Ducks.”

  “Whatever. So we need to get going.”

  He eased her aside and started to get up.

  “Get going?” Disgruntled, she levered up on her elbows to glare at him. “Why can’t we ever just lie in bed for two seconds? I just had the best orgasm of my life here. I’m trying to recover. What are you trying to do?”

  “First, we need to finish your risotto. It smells delicious, and I’m starved. Then we’ll take a shower.” He gave her a pointed look. “I want to see if I can give you your top two orgasms of your life.”

  “Delightful as that sounds—and it does sound delightful—don’t we need to pace ourselves a little?”

  “No.” He stood. Stretched. Gave her a spectacular view of the fantastically cut and carved body that made her a lucky, lucky woman. “We have too many fun things to do together, and the baby will be here before we know it. Hang on.”

  He hurried out of the bedroom and came right back with a beautifully gift-wrapped box big enough for a pair of boots.

  “This is for you,” he said, ruddy color creeping over his cheeks as set it on the bed for her. “I brought you some things from Paris. I would have gotten them for you when we were there together, but I couldn’t sneak off and you refused to leave the art museums and go shopping with me.”

  “Oh, but Baptiste, you don’t need to—”

  “You cannot reject
them because we love each other. And I’m allowed to give you gifts. It makes me happy. You don’t want to ruin my happiness, do you?”

  “But…I don’t have anything for you,” she said, her heart sinking. “If I’d known we were showering each other with gifts tonight—”

  He gaped at her.

  “You shower me with the best possible gift every time you come for me—”

  Blushing furiously, she covered her face with both hands. “Baptiste.”

  “—trust me. And tonight? When you give me your love and your risotto?” He grinned. “I’m a happy man.”

  “You’re a silly man.”

  Dropping her hands, she sat up for a kiss before she covered herself as best she could with the tattered remnants of his poor shirt. He handed her the box and she went to work unwrapping it.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s not a puppy, is it? I don’t hear anything.”

  He looked startled. “No, but I do like your parents’ dogs.”

  “Oh, Lord. Speaking of my folks, I hear you’ve been cozying up to them when my back was turned. Sneaky.”

  “I cozied up to them because they’re lovely people and I like them very much.”

  “Good answer, Frenchie,” she said, beaming at him as she tore the last of the wrap. “Oh, my God.”

  It was a Chanel box.

  Her heart stopped.

  He grinned, all but levitating with his delight.

  She opened the lid and made her way through the tissue paper, whereupon she discovered her dream black quilted bag with chain strap and the interlocking C logo.

  She squealed.

  “I thought you didn’t care for luxury items,” he said, raising a brow at her.

  “I never said that!” She slung the bag over her shoulder and lovingly caressed the leather. “You’re spoiling me. Now I’m going to get a big head and think I’m special. You won’t be able to tell me anything.”

  “Sure I will. There’s one more thing.”

  She tried to keep up her smile, but it was hard because her hormones were out of whack and her chin wanted to wobble. She wiped her eyes, thinking about how miserable she’d been following the canceled wedding and how happy she was now. If anyone had told her then that she’d have this kind of beauty from those ashes, she’d have laughed in his or her face.

  “Don’t cry, Samira,” he said tenderly.

  She tried not to. She really did.

  “I’m very happy,” she told him, her voice raw with emotion. “And it’s not because of the gifts.”

  “Good.” He cupped her face and wiped away her tears with his thumb. “I’m going to keep you that way. Are you ready for your final gift?”

  “A final—?”

  “It’s in the handbag.”

  Heart thudding, she looked inside and discovered a flat Cartier box.

  Inside? A thin diamond-studded bangle—hang on. It was a Love bracelet with its own screwdriver so that the giver could tighten it on the recipient’s wrist.

  Samira didn’t know much about jewelry, but she knew that this was a symbol of love and commitment.

  Her thoughts shorted out.

  She stared down at it, aware of his utter stillness and his watchful gaze on the top of her head. When she looked up again, his heart was back in his eyes.

  She had absolutely no idea what to say.

  “You don’t like platinum,” he said, his face falling. “It’s okay. I can get yellow gold instead—”

  “Don’t like platinum? Are you insane?”

  He faltered. “But…”

  “Baptiste…” Incredulous laugh. “How many more times are you going to stop my heart tonight?”

  “We’ll see. It’s early yet,” he said, brightening as he took the bracelet and screwdriver from her. “This one comes with conditions. Prepare yourself.”

  “Uh-oh. You’re going to insist on that closet space now?”

  He shot daggers at her, but the general effect was ruined by the flash of his wide grin.

  “No. If you accept this bracelet—if you let me put it on you—then you understand that my intention is to marry you. Preferably before the baby comes. And the only reason I’m not giving you a ring now is because I’m not sure you’d accept it. Unless I’m wrong…?”

  Try though she did, she couldn’t stop a wayward shadow from crossing her heart.

  “Right. So think carefully.” He held the bracelet up. “Do you want this or not?”

  Did she want—?

  Without a word, she held out her left arm.

  “Good.” He kissed her wrist, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. “I’ll just—what’s this? Looks like you have a busy wrist already.”

  He’d noticed the other jewelry she’d received today.

  “My mother gave these to me. She and Dad gave me this one when I was born,” she said, pointing, “and I was already wearing a little beaded one from my birth mother when they got me. So I stopped at a jeweler and had her string them together on this white gold chain. What do you think?”

  “I think it’s perfect.”

  He used the screwdriver to loosen the Love bracelet before putting it on her and tightening it to fit her wrist.

  She didn’t want to look any of her gift bracelets in the mouth. Still, she happened to notice, somewhat sourly, that he was handy with the little screwdriver and sure knew a lot about Love bracelet etiquette.

  “By the way,” he said idly, “the only reason I know how to do this is because I had the jeweler practice with me.” Finished, he looked up. “So you have no reason to glare at the top of my head.”

  “Oh, was I glaring?” she asked innocently.

  He rubbed his crown. “I feel a bald patch.”

  “Sorry. Not sorry.”

  “Your jealousy is very sexy, I must say.” He gave her a quick kiss, then headed for the bathroom. “Come on. Let’s get going.”

  “Where are we going?” she called after him.

  15

  “So you just bought it,” Samira said an hour or so later, as Baptiste turned right past the stone wall and into the semicircular drive, where they pulled up behind a nice black Jaguar. “You saw the house at the Halloween bonfire, you liked it, and you were like, ‘Hey. Why not just buy this crazy hundred-year-old half-renovated house?’ Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “Pretty much.” He killed the engine. “Well, I waited until Monday. I can be very decisive when I know what I want. Perhaps you’ve noticed?”

  The pointed once-over he gave her made her face go up in flames. “I had detected that tendency, now that you mention it.”

  He leaned in. Gave her a nipping little kiss that made her breath stall and her skin shiver.

  “Baptiste…”

  He pulled back to stare at her with those glittering eyes. “You have to promise to always melt when I touch you. Just like this.”

  “You can rest easy,” she assured him on a shaky laugh. “I’ve got that covered.”

  He nodded with grim satisfaction. “Good. I did see the house before I bought it. For your information.”

  “And seeing all the work that needed to be done didn’t make you run screaming in the other direction? Because you know this has been the joke house around town for years. They say it needs new plumbing, electric and HVAC.”

  He frowned. “HVAC?”

  “Heating and air.”

  His expression cleared. “That’s all true. Oh, and one half of the pool has caved in. It’s a mess. So it’s a good thing we’ve watched so many home makeover shows.”

  She grimaced. “And you just up and bought this money trap. You probably paid full price for it, too, didn’t you? If your house-shopping skills are anything like your caramel apple-buying skills…I can’t even think about it.”

  “Have a little faith.” He flashed his roguish grin. “I of course drove a hard bargain and got twenty percent off the listing price. Because I paid cash and because it’s been on the market for so long.
”

  “Oh, my God.” Laughing, she smacked her forehead. “What have I gotten myself into with you?”

  “You have gotten a man who is determined to make sure your eyes sparkle every day. Who will take excellent care of you and the baby.” He considered that for a moment. “And who likes to laugh with you, have a lot of sex with you and gets fangry—”

  “Hangry.”

  “—when he doesn’t eat on time.” He shrugged. “That’s all there is to me. I’m very simple. Shall we go see our new house?”

  “We shall,” she said, reaching for the door.

  “I’ll get it for you—”

  The rest of Baptiste’s sentence—and a mild curse—were lost to the sound of Samira slamming her door shut. He met her on her side of the car, muttering darkly.

  “I will get the car door for you,” he said as she slung her new Chanel over her shoulder. “Let’s add that to my list. I’m a man who likes to get the door.”

  “I can’t sit around and wait for you to get the door,” she said, rolling her eyes. “That’s like being trapped in the car. And what if where we’re going is on your side of the car? Are you going to come to my side, let me out and then walk back around? That’s incredibly inefficient.”

  He glowered. “And you’re incredibly stubborn.”

  “You’ll make your peace with it.”

  “I already have,” he said grimly.

  They laughed together, then held hands as they went up the walk to the front door.

  “Oh, my God,” Samira said softly. “It’s gorgeous.”

  “That’s why I was so decisive about it.”

  A huge white clapboard with dark shutters on its many windows, the house was ablaze with welcoming light in the chilly fall air. High atop the hill, it was surrounded with mature trees and the utter silence of a house that sat at the end of its own lane.

  Until the huge front door swung open and Raymond appeared with Bobsy on his leash.

  “Welcome home!” he cried, sweeping his arms wide. “Although I’m technically not speaking to you two, because you lied to my face. Told me you weren’t a couple.”

  “That was not my doing,” Baptiste said, pointing to Samira. “I’m throwing her under the train for that one.”

  “Bus,” said Samira and Raymond.