Surrogate and Wife (10 page)

She sucked in a breath. “You're awake?”

“Barely.”

He sounded sleepy, but not just-woke-up sleepy. She twisted her head just enough to shoot him a suspicious look. “How long have you been awake?”

Propping himself up on an elbow, he looked down at her without removing his hand from her belly. “Long enough to feel you wake up.”

He'd lain there beside her. His erection pressing against her buttocks, but saying nothing. Not even moving. Her pulse kicked up a notch. Was he as aroused as she was? Or was this just a standard physical response for him?

“And you didn't move?”

“I didn't want to wake you.”

His answer was so simple. So logical.

Still, having him so close made her feel as if she could crawl out of her skin. “You should have—”

Just then the baby gave her a sharp jab, right under Jake's hand.

“Oh my God. Was that…?”

She again started to pull away from him. “I should really—”

He didn't let her get very far, but lassoed her with an arm and pulled her back to his side. Before she knew what was happening, he had her flat on her back and was pressing the side of his face as well as his hand to her stomach.

“You know—” she tried to protest.

“Shh,” he said.

“It's not like you'll be able to hear her.”

“Shh.”

“I'm not supposed to be on my back like this.”

“It's only for a minute,” he said without moving his head.

Well, at least he wasn't shushing her anymore.

As much as she hated to admit it, he was probably right. A few minutes on her back couldn't do much harm. Which was kind of a shame, because she really could have used the excuse to get out from under him.

With his face pressed to her belly, she could feel the warmth of his breath through her camisole. And when she inhaled, she could feel the prickle of his unshaved cheek poking through the silky thin fabric.

His hand pressed low across her abdomen, his palm hot against her. Especially where the camisole didn't quite meet the top of her tap pants and he touched bare skin. If he lowered his hand just a few inches—five, maybe six, at most—he'd be touching her intimately. And her traitorous body wished desperately that he would.

It would be so easy to rock her hips up to his touch.

She sucked in a deep breath and squeezed her eyes closed. Boy, she hoped he couldn't hear the thundering of her heart. But how could he not? He wasn't deaf. Hoping to cover the sound, she said, “Jake, I really don't think this is—”

The baby gave another sharp kick, right to the spot where his cheek rested.

This time, they both sucked in deep breaths.

“I felt that.” Awe laced his words. “I definitely felt that.” Without moving his left hand from her belly, he raised up on his other elbow and looked at her. His goofy expression nearly took her breath away again. “Damn, that's something.”

She could only nod in response.

“Was this the first time you felt her move?”

“No.”

His smile faded. “And you didn't say anything?”

“I—” She bit down on her lip.

“How long have you felt her moving?”

“Three weeks. Maybe four. It's hard to say.” His expression urged her to try, so she fumbled to explain. “At first it was so vague. I wasn't sure that's what I was even feeling. The doctor said it would feel like a fluttering. Like butterfly wings. But that's not what it felt like at all.”

“What was it like? I mean, what is it like?”

He was staring at her so intently her throat nearly closed up on her. No one had ever looked at her so closely. Watched her with such an expression of curiosity. As if her next words would be the most important he'd ever hear.

“It's more like—” she struggled to put the sensation into words “—a twitch. Like a muscle spasm. Or maybe…” Then she hit on the perfect description. “Do you know the feeling when you're really nervous or you've been exercising really hard and you can feel your heart thundering in your chest?”

He nodded without taking his eyes from her face. His voice, when he spoke, was husky with emotion. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

For an instant her mind went completely blank and she lost herself in his gaze. Her entire existence seemed to shrink down to just him. Just this moment. Just his hand on her stomach, the look in his eyes, and the thundering of her heart.

Right…her thundering heart. The movement of the baby. That was what they'd been talking about.

She forced herself to finish her description, but her voice sounded breathless and weak. “That's what it's like. Like your heart beating against your ribs. But not rhythmic.”
He looked back at her belly when the baby once again moved against his hand. “It's amazing.”

“Yes.” She nearly choked on the words. “It is amazing.”

It truly was amazing. Not just the sensation of her baby moving inside her, but the way he'd looked at her.

No one had ever looked at her like that before. As if
she
was amazing. And she'd never in her whole life felt closer to another person.

She felt part of something far bigger and more important than any of the other things in her life—duty, justice, honor. Things she'd always thought of as so hugely important, but that seemed dwarfed by this baby and the connection it created between her and Jake.

It nearly broke her heart to think that this was all just an illusion. The connection she felt was not just frail; it was false.

Because the baby wasn't hers. And neither was Jake.

K
ate had been distant from the moment she climbed out of his bed Saturday morning. She went out for breakfast and spent the day in her office. His only consolation was that she'd agreed to go to a barbecue with him on Sunday at a buddy's house. That would give him the whole day with her. A whole day full of excuses to hold and touch her.

When she finally did make it back to the house that night, she refused to sleep in his bed again. Even when he offered to take the sofa…which he thought was more than generous.

After several hours of staring at the ceiling, missing having Kate in his bed after only one night, Jake was finally almost asleep when he heard a low moan coming from Kate's room.

In an instant all his senses went to high alert and he was out of his bed and running down the hall.

Her door was shut. Without thinking, he twisted the knob at the same time he slammed his shoulder against the door. It flew open and ricocheted against the wall. He didn't bother searching for the bedroom light. There was no need. Light shone in through the window, revealing a tableau of Kate sitting up in bed bent over her leg. When he'd crashed through the door, she turned toward the noise, and now her face was clearly illuminated in the moonlight.

“What's wrong?” he asked frantically.

“Just a leg cramp,” she said, turning her attention back to her leg.

Relief flashed through him. She wasn't sick. The baby was fine. Nothing was wrong.

Except that she was in pain. The thought pulled him to her side.

“Let me help.” He lowered himself to the edge of her bed.

“I've got it,” she muttered, trying to wiggle away from him. But her movements must have made the cramp worse, because she winced noticeably and reached again for her leg.

He blocked her hands with his palm. “Let me help.”

She eyed him warily in the near dark but finally relented, leaning back onto her elbows, granting him free access to her leg.

He'd had leg cramps before and knew they could be painful, so he moved slowly. Taking the heel of her foot in one hand, he ran his other down the length of her calf. He gently massaged the tense muscles, willing himself to focus on the task, rather than the length of bare leg exposed to him.

He could go on forever touching her skin…sitting in her bed. If he thought for even a minute that she'd let him.

As much as he wanted to lose himself in the pleasure
of touching her, he tried to restrain his reaction. He was a certified EMT. He should have been able to detach himself from the situation. But he couldn't. Not with her. Not when he'd spent all day wanting her. Resisting her. Not when he'd spent all day wanting her. He just wasn't that strong. No man was.

His thumb found a particularly hard knot. As he tried to loosen it, she groaned. The sound was low and guttural and threatened his willpower.

But it also brought him back to his senses. She was in pain, not turned on.

He looked up at her face, trying to read her expression, but her eyes were closed, her head tilted back, exposing the length of her arched neck. “Too hard?”

Her head came up and her eyes blinked open. “No. It feels good.”

“I'm going to try to stretch the muscle, okay?”

She nodded, her eyes wide.

Watching her carefully for signs of pain, he grasped the ball of her foot and slowly flexed. Her expression didn't even flicker. If she was in pain, she wasn't showing it.

He couldn't help but admire how tough she was. So independent, so sure of herself, so determined. Qualities he never thought about wanting in a wife. But he was glad she had them.

He flexed her foot several more times until he felt the knot beneath his thumb loosen and dissolve.

“Better?”

She nodded. “I'm sorry I woke you.”

“Don't apologize. And don't pretend this isn't much harder on you than it is on me.”

Even though the cramping had stopped, he couldn't seem to make himself release her leg. The soft spot just
behind her knee was too tempting. He kept expecting her to pull her leg away from his touch, but she didn't.

Her lips curved into a half smile. “Well, maybe a little harder.”

He shifted his weight, moving closer to her on the bed. As he did, his hand slipped from her calf to just above her knee. With his free hand, he brushed aside the lock of hair that had fallen into her eyes.

There were a thousand things he wanted to tell her. How beautiful she looked in the moonlight. How tempting her skin felt. How enticing she smelled. How much he wanted to kiss her.

How he'd wanted to kiss her all day.

Before he let any of those things slip, he forced himself to remember his past mistakes. Even the slightest nudge, and she'd scamper in the other direction.

So he shoved aside all the things he wanted to say and instead said the one thing he didn't think would spook her. “Has the baby been moving?”

“She's been a little active today. But I feel her more at night.”

“You keep referring to the baby as a ‘her.' Has the doctor—”

“No. It's just a gut feeling.”

They were so close. In the half light from the moon, he saw her eyes widen. He heard her soft intake of breath. He wanted desperately to kiss her but knew he couldn't. She'd set out strict ground rules for their marriage.

For the first time in his life, alone with a beautiful woman in her bedroom he found himself wishing they were in a crowded place.

He forced himself to withdraw his hands and lean back. Now, if only he could force himself to return to his room. But, hey, he wasn't a saint.

Before he could chastise himself any more, she surprised him by asking, “What were you thinking just now?”

He surprised himself even more by answering. “I was wishing we were in public. If we were, I'd have an excuse to kiss you.”

She leaned forward, her gaze dropping to his mouth. “You've never seemed like the kind of man who needs an excuse to do what he wants.”

Hell, he had a hundred reasons to break the rules. And only one reason not to. If he did, he'd lose her. That was the one thing he wasn't willing to risk.

Still, there was a hint of invitation in her eyes. But how could he take advantage of her? How could he destroy the trust they'd only just started to build?

He stood, putting some distance between them. “Don't tempt me, Kate.”

She stiffened. “I don't know what you mean.”

“Sure, you do. You made me promise this would be only a business arrangement. No intimacy. Those were your rules.”

Defiance flashed in her eyes as she met his gaze. “So?”

“If you want to change the rules, then
you
have to change them. I won't break them for you.”

But, damn, he wanted to.

So much so that he continued to stand there, watching her, when he knew he should leave. Before he went back on his word and did exactly what he'd sworn he wouldn't do.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. “What if I want to change the rules?”

His heart started pounding in his chest. Urging him to kiss her. To make her his.

It'd be so easy to give in to his heart. But impossible to justify to his conscience.

Unless he was sure this was what she really wanted.

“They're your rules. You're the only one who can change them.”

He was right, of course. They were her rules. She was the one who'd insisted there be no intimacy between them. He was just following the guidelines she'd set out for them. And, frankly, it was annoying the hell out of her.

Was it too much to ask—really?—that he just sweep her into his arms and kiss her senseless? Would that really be so hard on him?

For once in her life, she didn't want to think. Didn't want to be the responsible one. Didn't want to have to make a decision.

She knew he desired her. Felt it in his touch and every look. But she wanted more than just desire. She wanted complete and total surrender. She wanted him to be unable to resist her.

There were a hundred ways they were wrong for each other. She wanted them to be right for each other in this one way.

Slowly she stood before him, close enough that she could see his eyes dilate, even in the dim lighting. Close enough to see the individual hairs scattered across his bare chest. Close enough to smell the warm, masculine scent of him. The same scent that had permeated his pillow the night before.

Was it so wrong to want this?

It didn't feel wrong. In fact, nothing had ever felt more right. What could be more right than making love with the father of her child? What could be more natural?

That thought drummed through her mind as she worked up the courage to raise her hand to his cheek. She could feel the pulse at his temple thundering beneath her fingertips. His heart seemed to beat in the
same crazy rhythm as her own. One thump for anticipation, one for fear. One for pure desire.

As her hand slipped down to cup his jaw, she reveled in the coarse prickle of hair against her palm. Hoping to tempt him into submission, she stood on tiptoe and raised her lips to his.

But he stubbornly pulled away. “Don't do this, Kate.”

“Don't do what?” Unable to reach his lips, she pressed her mouth to his jaw. “Don't do this?”

His skin was hot. The stubble of his beard rough against her lips. She couldn't resist trailing her lips down the enticing column of his throat. “Or don't do this?”

There was something heady about the faint saltiness of his skin. About the feel of his pulse thundering beneath her lips. Feeling off balance and a little dizzy, she plastered her palms to his naked chest, thrilling at the sensation of his muscles clenching beneath her touch. “Or this?”

He stared down at her with such intensity. Such restrained power.

Honestly, she couldn't have said what appealed to her more. His sheer strength or the control he maintained over it.

She only knew, in that instant, that his personality was far stronger than she'd previously realized. His laid-back, casual attitude had fooled herself into underestimating his strength of will.

That strength spoke to her in a way she never would have predicted. She was drawn to his strength and power. Wanting—somewhat desperately—to be
his
weakness.

“Why shouldn't we give in to what we both want?” she asked.

He clamped his hands over hers, stopping their progress. “Because it's the middle of the night. People
do stupid things at 3:00 a.m. They don't think right. They're not logical. They make mistakes.”

His arguments were certainly reasonable. But she heard the faint tremor in his voice. The underlying roughness that told her she affected him more than he wanted to admit.

“You're right,” she admitted, but pressed on before he could assume she was admitting defeat. “Sometimes people do stupid things in the middle of the night. But sometimes they do brave things. Bold things. Things they'd never have the courage to do in broad daylight.”

Much to her chagrin, he chuckled. “Katie, you're the last woman I can imagine needing to bolster her courage.”

“Just shows you how good I am at faking it.” The admission seemed to lift a weight off her shoulders, so she continued, “I've spent too many months worried about making mistakes. But the one mistake I won't let myself make is being too stubborn to admit I was wrong.

“I know I said I wanted no intimacy between us. I know I insisted on that, but I was wrong. I didn't know how hard it would be to live with you. I never imagined how much I'd want you.”

That admission seemed to do the trick. In an instant he went from hard and unyielding to completely at her mercy. She saw the acquiescence in his eyes. Felt it in his touch.

This time, when she stood on her toes to kiss him, he lowered his mouth to hers.

She marveled at the mastery of his kiss. How the simple act of pressing his mouth to hers made her blood pulse and desire quicken in her belly.

As soon as he released her hands, she wrapped her arms around his neck, eagerly pressing her body to his. Just a thin layer of fabric separated them, but it felt like too much. As if he read her mind, his hands moved to
the hem of her nightshirt. For a second his fingers merely toyed with the edge, tempting her. Teasing her. But then his hand slipped beneath the hem to her hip. His fingers were rough against her already sensitized skin, eliciting a moan from deep within her.

She grew impatient with his gentle coaxing. She wanted his hands on her—all over her—now.

She grasped the hem of her shirt and pulled her mouth from his long enough to yank the offensive garment over her head.

He stepped back, and for an instant she feared he would leave. But his expression told her he had no intention of going anywhere. He merely studied her.

She felt a curious blossoming of pride. His gaze was heated with desire. His expression taut with barely restrained control. He wanted her and made no attempt to hide it.

“Oh, man, you're beautiful.” His words were low and rough. And soft, almost as if he hadn't really meant to say them aloud.

He reached out a finger to trace the curve of her breast. She could have sworn there was a slight tremble in his hand as his finger moved down the slope of her breast to circle the nipple.

Her breasts were so tender that when he finally cupped her in his hands, she groaned aloud with a pleasure so intense it was almost painful.

Instantly his hands stilled. “Too much?”

She shook her head. His touch was far too gentle to cause pain. Far too cautious. “Perfect,” she gasped. “Just perfect.”

There were so many things she wanted to tell him. How she'd dreamed of this moment. Ached for it. How she'd lain awake in her bed, not just because she
couldn't sleep, but because she wanted him there with her. Touching her just like this.