Sacrifice (13 page)

On and on it went. Every pulse of
his seed inside the liquid heat of her body was like a whiplash of fiery
sensation. His hips pressed deeper, determined to spear into the very heart of
her womb as he spilled every drop of his semen into the flexing depths of her
cunt.

When it was over, it was like a
puppeteer cutting the strings on his creation. Jared collapsed over her, loath
to pull free of the velvet depths of her body. He had to be crushing her, but
her arms wrapped tight around his neck, her lips whispered, pleaded that he
hold her forever.

“I love you, Kimberly,” he
whispered again, humbled by the emotions that swept through him as exhaustion
claimed them both. “I love you…”

Three weeks later

“Your mother is insane,” Kimberly
accused Jared as she hung up the phone and lowered her head into her hands.
“Six months? Six months to plan a wedding?” She gazed up at him pleadingly from
where she sat at the kitchen table, her coffee cooling in front of her. “I have
to wait six months, Jared? That’s no fair.”

He stood across from her, leaning
lazily against the counter, his jeans lying low on his hips, the top snap still
undone, his chest bare. God, he was so sexy she just wanted to eat him up.

His dark hair was tousled, his lips
still appeared swollen. She barely remembered biting that lower curve as her
release rocked her body earlier that morning. Looking at him now, she couldn’t
imagine how she had managed to keep her hands off him as long as she had.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he
growled sensually. “After last night and this morning, you’re in no shape to
follow through on it.”

And he was right. She was still
amazed that Ian Sinclair had agreed to be the third in their relationship. Ian
rarely participated in any of the club members’ relationships, and as far as
she had known, he had never acted as third. First maybe, but never third.

The experience had been wild,
erotic, a giving unlike anything she had ever known as Jared held her in his
arms, his gaze locked with hers as Ian began to fill her greedy, soaked cunt.

She shivered now at the memory,
staring back at Jared as love exploded in her soul. It still amazed her that he
was truly hers.

“Finish your coffee, sweetheart.”
His voice was a smooth, sexy rumble as the front of his jeans began to fill out
demandingly.

She was poised to rise to her feet
and attack him when the doorbell chimed, forestalling the sexual intent
building like wildfire in her mind.

She rose instead as Jared held his
hand out to her in invitation to follow him. Their home. He took every
opportunity to prove to her that the house he so cherished was their home. Not
just his, but hers as well.

“Expecting someone?” Her
ever-present smile deepened as his arm curled around her back.

“Not hardly,” he grunted as they
reached the wide oak panel. “Let’s get rid of them fast though.”

Laughter welled in her throat as he
gripped the doorknob and opened it wide.

Shock held her immobile.

“Hello, Kimberly.” Daniel Madison
stood on the threshold, a gaily wrapped box clutched in his white-knuckled
hands as he stared back at her coolly.

She stiffened, blinking in
disbelief.

“Senator Madison.” Jared’s icy
greeting was less than hospitable. “What do you want?”

He appeared to flinch at the rough
tone of Jared’s voice, but his gaze never left hers.

“I would like a moment to speak
with you,” he said austerely. “I promise not to take much of your time.”

“You’ve said enough…” Jared started
to growl.

“No.” Kimberly pressed her hand to
his chest, her gaze never leaving her father’s. “I’ll talk to him, Jared. This
can’t hurt me now. I promise you.”

She felt his denial of her facing
the parent who had attempted to control her for so many years.

“Come into the living room,” she
invited him warily. “It’s a bit messy right now. We haven’t gotten around to
putting all my stuff away yet.”

They had cleaned out her small
house the week before, but boxes still littered the living room, packed with a
lifetime of memories that she couldn’t bear to part with.

Her father nodded, his gaze
flickering for a moment, appearing bleak and pain-filled before he glanced away
from her.

She led him into the living room,
standing uncomfortably as he stepped past several boxes, still clutching the
bright pink and yellow box in his arm. Suddenly, he stopped, his gaze caught by
the contents of childish mementos that she had kept over the years.

Hesitantly it seemed, he reached
into it and pulled free a ragged little book.
Sleeping Beauty.
It had
always been her favorite book.

He blinked rapidly as he cleared
his throat.

“I used to read this to you,” he
said faintly. “When you were just a tiny thing. Every night before bedtime, you
wanted me to read it to you.”

Kimberly watched him curiously. “I
don’t remember that,” she said as she thought back, trying to move past the
memories of his rage with her mother to the years before the fights.

He flinched as though she had
struck him and carefully laid the book back in its place.

“You were very small,” he said.
“Too young to remember perhaps. Here…” He handed her the box he carried. “I
have a gift for you. Your birthday arrives soon and I saw this…” He shrugged,
as though uncomfortable.

Confused, Kimberly took the box.
This wasn’t the father she remembered.

“I apologize for the wrapping.” He
cleared his throat again. “I don’t know where my secretary was yesterday. I had
to wrap it myself.”

She could tell. The paper was
uneven, clumsily taped, but for a moment Kimberly had to battle back a sob at
the knowledge he had wrapped it himself. He hadn’t done that since she was
five. And she did remember that. The uneven, clumsily wrapped box he brought
her and her mother’s derision.

You didn’t even care enough to
have it wrapped properly
,her mother had charged, furious.
It’s
as clumsy as you are, Daniel.

Her fingers smoothed over the
crookedly tied bow as she blinked back tears. Carefully, she untied it, laying
the ribbon aside before easing open the paper in the same manner. She would
save it. Just as she had saved the ballerina paper he had used so long ago.

Finally, she opened the long box
and simply stared down at the contents in amazement.

“It was nothing really,” he almost
snarled. “I saw it in the shop window. The doll’s face reminded me of you.”

Reminded him of her? She looked at
the little tag on the long white satin wedding gown. It was a Remee, a designer
original, and the face resembled her because it was her face. She had long
admired the maker’s porcelain dolls but had never been able to justify the
outrageous price to own one.

Long red-gold curls fell down the
doll’s shoulders and back beneath a lace and gauze veil. Tiny seed pearls,
satin and lace, graced the stunningly white wedding gown, and precious satin
slippers covered the porcelain feet.

“Why?” She ran her finger gently
over a row of tiny pearls on the long train of the gown that had been folded
carefully to the side.

She looked up at him then, seeing
someone she didn’t know. This wasn’t the father she had fought for so many years.
The self-righteous bastard who had, on more than one occasion, all but called
her a whore.

He lowered his head slowly, shaking
it helplessly as he pushed his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

“I’ve not been a father to you
since you were five,” he said, almost too low for her to hear. “I won’t excuse
myself. There is no excuse, Kimberly. I won’t make one. But I wanted you to
know…” he swallowed tightly, “I always loved you. Even when I didn’t want to.
When I tried not to. I loved you.”

He shrugged his shoulders
uncomfortably as she lifted a slender envelope she glimpsed tucked beside the
doll. Curious, she opened it, pulling the papers free. She scanned the legal
documents in disbelief before looking at him again.

What the hell was going on here?

“It was always meant to be yours,”
he snapped then. “If you had married a derelict from the streets, I would not
have taken it from you. I married your mother for the money, I admit that. But
by God, I didn’t get her pregnant for the money, nor was it an accident.”

He appeared angry, as he always
did. His voice was rough, a little too loud, but this time she saw something
she realized had always been there in the past. His pain.

“I can hear you,” she said softly.
“Don’t yell at me, Father.”

He grimaced tightly, glancing away
again. “I don’t mean to yell.” He attempted to throttle the sound. “My fellow
cabinet members are forever chastising me for it. Sometimes, I don’t realize…”
He broke off again.

“Why now?” She couldn’t figure that
part out. “Why come to me now when I needed you years before?” Her voice was
roughening with tears, and she hated that. She shouldn’t hurt; she shouldn’t
care.

He cleared his throat again,
shifting uncomfortably. “I read her diary. You left it out at Briar Cliff. When
you renounced the estate, I was given a letter she wrote me before her death. I
went to Briar Cliff to try to make sense of it, and I found the diary.” He
blinked jerkily.

“When you were five, the evening of
your birthday, she led me to believe you may not be mine. It’s no excuse,” he
snapped furiously. “No excuse for what I did. But while I was reading her
words, I realized we hurt you. In our selfish attempts to hurt each other, in
my own moralistic, self-righteous belief of right and wrong, I had committed an
even greater sin. I had denied the child I accepted on her birth. Shouldn’t
have mattered if she had lied to me, or if she had truly cheated me. I accepted
you. And I was wrong.”

He stared straight ahead as he
spoke, his hazel eyes a bit watery, his hands bunched in his pockets as
Kimberly watched him in shock, uncertain, confused. She glanced back down at
the doll. It had taken longer than a few weeks for this creation. He would have
to have commissioned it more than a year before.

“I don’t expect forgiveness,” his
voice was rising again. “Don’t deserve it. But I wanted you know. I know what
he does, that man you’re marrying. That Club he’s a part of. I know what it
means. I don’t like it. You know I don’t like it…” He stopped, obviously
attempting to control the volume of his words. “You’re my daughter. What you do
in your privacy is none of my business… I just want…” He broke off again.

Kimberly stared back at him
silently.

“One day…” he continued, “you might
have children. Maybe a little boy, too. I want…” He cleared his throat roughly.
“I don’t want to lose the chance to know your children, as I denied the chance
to know you… Dammit, don’t cry woman. I won’t have those tears,” he yelled
then.

Before Kimberly could respond he
had jerked a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to her cheeks. A bit
roughly, wiping at the tears before pushing it into her hands.

“Clean it up…” he snapped, gritting
his teeth, lowering his voice. “I can’t stand to see you cry. Reminds me of too
many things, Kimberly. Too much pain I caused in the past. Please don’t cry. I
didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“She tried to tell me at the end,”
she sniffed. “And I misunderstood.”

He nodded bleakly. “I know. I heard
what she said and I misunderstood as well.” He patted her head roughly. “I have
to get back. I have work to do, girl. I don’t have time to stand around here.
Just…” He swallowed tightly. “Be happy, Kimmie. That’s all I ever really wanted
for you.”

He turned and began to stalk to the
doorway.

“Father.” He paused as she called
out to him. “I’m getting married. Carolyn informs me the wedding is in six
months.”

He grunted roughly. “That woman’s a
busybody.”

Strangely, his voice was filled with a fondness she hadn’t
expected.

“Yeah, she is,” she agreed. “But
I’ll need someone to give me away,” she said hesitantly, wondering if she was
only hurting herself with the words.

He turned slowly. It was his turn
to be shocked, filled with disbelief.

His lips opened. Closed.

“I don’t deserve to,” he finally
whispered. “I never expected to be able to.”

“If you want to,” she said, aching
for the years lost, the father she realized she never knew. “Love me, love my
husband, Father.”

He blinked roughly. “He stole my
daughter,” he growled. “But I was doing a lousy job taking care of you anyway.
And I would be proud…damned proud, Kimmie, to give you to him. I sacrificed
your love for my own selfish pride. But I’d be damned proud to give you away.”

She licked her lips warily. “I
never hated you.” She couldn’t say anything more. Right now, she was stunned,
unable to explain to herself how this had happened.

He nodded jerkily. “I’m thankful
for that. Now, I have a country to try to help slap back in shape for my
grandkids. You keep that man you’re marrying in line.” He pointed a finger at
her demandingly. “He’s too damned stubborn and sure of himself. Gives the rest
of us a bad name…” He pressed his hands nervously into his pockets again. “Love
you, Kimmie.”

He turned and left abruptly then,
weaving quickly around Jared as he passed him in the hall.

Kimberly met her lover’s eyes. He
stared back at her in surprise, his lips quirking in sudden amusement.

“Your father has issues,” he said
with all seriousness.

She shook her head, a smile curving
her lips as he came to her, his arms wrapping around her.

“You’re worth every sacrifice,
Kimberly. He only realized that,” he said as he pulled her to his chest a
second before her tears flowed again. “Every sacrifice. And trust me, dealing
with that pious father of yours is going to be a sacrifice…”

She laughed tearfully at the
teasing tone of his voice, because there had been nothing pious about her
father. Nothing self-righteous. He had made a sacrifice she had never expected.

She held onto Jared tighter,
realizing the gift she had been given in his love. The acceptance, the patience
and sheer depth of emotion that now bound them. There had been no sacrifice.
Even if she had never seen Briar Cliff again. This, this moment in his arms,
was worth losing it all.