The Pregnancy Test (10 page)

Mandy seemed to like it, too, since it had him pressing against her clitoris, and she gripped the bedspread and gasped. It spurred Damien on, made him pump harder, until he forced himself to an abrupt stop. Legs trembling as he held himself on the edge of orgasm, sweat running down into his eyes, the dim room brighter, the sounds of the fan sharper as he hovered in the high of anticipation.

The sound of frustration she gave was nothing short of a scream. “What the hell are you doing?”

The outrage on her face made him chuckle, even as his body screamed its own protest with quivering jerks inside her. “I told you only two minutes. I think I went over.”

Her brown eyes went wide with shock. Then she pinched his waist, hard. “Oh, my God. Finish me now, Damien, or I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

Oh, he would finish her. And himself in the process.

Bracing one hand on the wall over her head and the other on the bed, Damien gave one, two last strokes. As Mandy cried out and bucked behind him as she came, he let it all go and poured himself into her with a muffled roar.

He pulsed and throbbed on and on in a delicious surrender that sent a rapturous shudder through him. And when his moans petered off and his legs relaxed and a great exhalation of air shot out of his lungs, Damien felt empty of everything for the first time in three years.

Anger, frustration, pain—it all washed away and he was just left feeling very, very satisfied.

M
andy breathed in the warm night air from Damien’s balcony and gave a lusty sigh of contentment.

“Do you want something to drink? I’m going to raid the minibar.” Damien stood in the doorway, wearing his pants and a sardonic smile.

Damn, he was really quite fabulous. Mandy was feeling pleased with the whole world, but especially with Damien. He had no idea how much it meant to her that now, when she was feeling scared and lonely and unattractive, he had chosen her to end his celibacy.

And he’d done such a nice job of it, too, my goodness.

Her body still felt flushed and relaxed from that second orgasm, and she crossed her ankles as she leaned over the railing, in her dress but with nothing underneath it. “I am thirsty, but minibars are notoriously expensive, Damien. I’d feel guilty drinking an eight-dollar bottle of water, even if work is paying for it.”

“The minibar is free, Mandy. The trip is all-inclusive, which includes the minibar.”

That got her attention. “You must be joking.”

“No.”

“Damn, I’ve been ignoring that bag of chocies then for no reason. You’d better bring them to me, quick.”

“Chocies?”

“The chocolates.” Mandy pulled back a little, away from the railing bar pressing her stomach. She knew the baby was nicely cushioned, but she still rubbed a protective hand over the bump. “I’ve been eyeing them for two days, telling myself that since they probably cost twelve dollars and my backside doesn’t need chocolate anyway, I should resist them. But forget it now, I want them.”

She’d hardly gained any weight, thanks to the morning sickness. One little bag of chocolates wouldn’t hurt. They weren’t bad for the baby, just not good for the baby. And she was on holiday and entitled to indulge.

Damien reappeared with water and the chocolates. She was definitely indulging, and in more than the chocolates.

Strange, she didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty or ashamed of herself on either account.

He sat down on the plastic deck chair and popped the top off one of the waters. He handed it to her, then opened the little box of chocolates and held them out for her to make a selection.

She took one that looked like a caramel filled and settled into the chair next to him, scooting it closer so she could rest her feet on his thighs. “Do you mind?” she asked, licking the edge of the chocolate.

Shaking his head, he dropped his hand on her ankle, caressing her bare skin. Making sure her dress was tucked under her so she wasn’t flashing Damien or anyone walking by on the path below, she sighed and relaxed back into her chair.

“Comfy?” he asked. His pants were still cuffed a little from their walk on the beach, and he looked sexy and rumpled, his bare chest gleaming a bit in the muted shadows of the balcony.

“Very comfy. I feel boneless.” She popped the whole candy in her mouth and closed her eyes in appreciation. “Oh, that’s good.”

He was massaging the bottom of her foot, and Mandy decided nothing could get better than this. A half-naked, gorgeous man rubbing her feet while she floated in chocolate and post-orgasm endorphins. “How about you? Are you comfy?” she murmured, her voice sounding throaty and sensual even to her own ears.

“Very.” His mouth was smiling, but his eyes were serious. “I haven’t been this relaxed in a long time.”

She was about to ask him to tell her, to let her share that burden, to confess what caused those deep shadows in his eyes, what drew him to work so hard all the time. But he startled her by asking, “When’s the baby due?”

His fingers roamed up her leg as if he were going to touch her stomach, but he stopped at her knee. Mandy wished he would touch her belly and wasn’t sure why. But she seemed to be feeling a lot of strange things and wasn’t sure why.

“October eighteenth. Give or take.” It seemed so far away, yet just around the corner, and she was so unprepared, so nervous.

“And everything’s okay? The doctor did one of those ultrasound things?”

Taking a sip of water, she reached for the box of chocolates resting in his lap. She wanted—no, needed—another one. “It’s a bit early for an ultrasound. If a woman is healthy, they only like to do one at about eighteen to twenty weeks so I haven’t had mine yet. But the doctor has reassured me every step of the way that I’m healthy and the baby is progressing normally.”

He stroked lightly across her kneecap. “I’m glad to hear it.” His voice was thoughtful, his head turned away from her as he watched the ocean. “I think it would terrify me to know I had a kid on the way, but you seem really in control.”

God, if he only knew. She actually laughed. “Damien, I am absolutely terrified, trust me. I never expected to be having a baby this soon in life, and there are all these books and manuals and rules about how to do this. I have a huge textbook sitting in my beach bag that I’m trying to convince myself to read, but whenever I pick it up I have a panic attack. It’s overwhelming.”

He smiled. “If you approach motherhood the way you do your job, you’ll have that kid whipped into shape in no time.”

The laugh she knew he wanted stuck in her throat. She hated the way she felt so uncertain, so needy, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Am I good at my job? Truly?”

The water bottle he’d had poised at his lips descended back into his lap. “Are you serious? You’re awesome at it. You’re my ASS, remember? Asshole’s awesome assistant, that’s you.”

“Thank you.” She nibbled at a nut in the center of the nugget she held. “It seems I have some self-esteem issues I was never aware of. I always thought I hadn’t got into an office job because that’s what my father did and I didn’t want to lose myself in a career the way he did. That I wanted to be free to be creative, pursue my own interests, set my hours, and live according to my own terms.”

Mandy sighed, realizing something she should have a long time ago. “But I’m just a hypocrite. If I really disapproved of my parents’ lifestyle, of their focus on money, I would have cut myself off from their checkbooks. But I haven’t. I’ve been living off of them all these years while I proved that I didn’t need a high-powered job to be happy. It’s silly, really. All I’ve proved is that I do need my parents and that I was afraid to follow in Daddy’s footsteps because I was afraid to fail. I’m twenty-six years old and I’m lazy.”

A snort wasn’t exactly the response she expected to that heartfelt confession. “What a bunch of bullshit, Mandy. You aren’t lazy at all. You ran your own toy store for three years. How many hours did you put into that business? Eighty hours a week, minimum, would be my guess, when you add in ordering stock, managing payroll, and scheduling and handling the taxes.”

She chewed her lip. “Maybe, but I never turned a profit.”

“Not for lack of effort. Maybe it was just the wrong business. But that doesn’t mean that you’re a sponge.”

“But now I’m having a baby and I have to be responsible, go for security over what interests me.”

“And you are.”

That was true. She was. She’d given up the shop, and it didn’t even bother her. She’d do whatever was needed to ensure her baby was happy and healthy and well provided for.

“And you made the incredibly brilliant decision to work for me.” He winked at her.

That pulled a laugh out of her. Damien looked wicked beautiful winking. She shifted a little in the chair; her thighs started to feel warm. “You’ll never get rid of me, you know. I like this job and I’m keeping it, and you can be as insufferable and demanding and bossy as you like and I won’t quit.”

“Damn. I’ll have to cross ‘be insufferable to Mandy’ off my calendar for next week.”

“Beast.” She slapped at his arm and laughed. “Don’t be absurd.”

“That’s one adjective no one has ever applied to me.”

While he sipped his drink, she stared at him, wanting to ask, but knowing she shouldn’t. If he wanted to tell her, he would. But his tattoo was dark on his skin, and she couldn’t help but say, “So, what happened? To Jess?”

There had to be a compelling reason for a man as sensual as Damien to go three years without sex, and to bury himself in his work.

For a long moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer her. Then he turned and met her gaze. “She died.”

“Oh!” Somehow that possibility had never occurred to her. She’d thought maybe Jess had been unfaithful or something, but this was far, far worse. “Oh, Damien, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”

But Damien patted her leg like she was a child he was comforting. “You know, it should matter. It always has before. But right here, right now, with you, it’s okay. Really. But I don’t want to talk about Jessica, if you don’t mind. She’s always in my head, my thoughts, my heart, all the time, and I don’t want her here with us.”

Fine by her. Mandy really wasn’t interested in a mental ménage à trois either. But she was burning with curiosity and maybe, deep inside, where she was ashamed to admit it, a seed of jealousy. This woman, Damien had loved her, with a passion so deep that he still suffered over her death three years later and had chosen not to take another woman to his bed.

But Mandy brushed the ungracious feelings aside. She wasn’t looking for love. And she was the one who had inspired Damien to break his celibacy. For now, that was enough. Though part of her was pleased to know that she had been right about Damien. No matter the rough edges, he was a good man, just a wounded one.

She nodded. “Thank you, by the way. I’ve been feeling a bit sorry for myself, you know. Ben dumped me so soundly, and I haven’t exactly been glowing with this pregnancy, and any future relationships look doubtful. I’m not the kind of woman who will be parading men through my child’s life. I don’t plan on being a nun, of course, but I’m going to be very, very cautious once this child is born with who I date. I can’t afford to make any mistakes when it will affect my baby, too.”

Mandy rolled a chocolate between her thumb and forefinger and stared at him, hoping he would understand, really, truly understand. “But you’ve made me feel attractive again.”

“You are attractive. Inside and out.” He shook his head ruefully. “You have no idea how much…”

She thought he’d planned to say something else, but he clamped his lips shut. Stuffing the chocolate in her mouth, she glanced at the half-eaten box. “I’m going to regret eating all these, aren’t I? And come next week I’m probably going to regret sleeping with my boss, too.”

Damien set her feet off of him and onto the floor. “Don’t ever regret that. I don’t plan to.”

He shot her a look so hot, she glanced down to see if her clothes had burst into flames. The chocolate melted in her mouth and her nipples puckered.

Damien scooted forward in his chair. “In fact, I was thinking of leaning over and licking that chocolate off the corner of your lip. Then I’m going to take your dress off and make love to you all over again, and trust me, I don’t plan on ever regretting that.”

Her breath hitched and her hands pressed into her thighs. Somehow she thought this night was going to be worth any sort of regrets she might have later.

Damien moved forward, and with unnerving accuracy, his tongue flicked out and grabbed a piece of chocolate from the corner of her mouth. “Delicious,” he said.

No, she wasn’t going to regret any of this.

D
amien slid his tongue from one side of Mandy’s lip to the other and closed his eyes.

Unbelievable. Everything about her and this night was unbelievable.

But Mandy was his box of chocolates. He wanted her and he couldn’t resist her and he was going to eat all of her.

He should be done for the night, depleted and ready to send her on her way back to her room so he could get some work done. But he didn’t give a damn about software that didn’t work or customer demands or the training he wanted to schedule for June.

All he could think about was that Mandy wasn’t wearing any underwear or a bra under that very thin sundress.

And the way she treated him was so novel, so alluring, that he didn’t want this night to end and he didn’t want to retreat back into himself. Mandy sat with him, talked with him, with a trust and a frankness, her expression honest and open. Yet she expected nothing of him.

No hoops to jump through, no promises to make, no lavish gifts, no handing her his bleeding heart for her to own.

They were almost something like friends.

Except with one key difference.

Damien pushed his tongue between her lips and met the wet heat of her mouth as she sighed with pleasure. He wanted to capture that sound, keep it, hold it with him to reflect on later, when the world tilted back on its axis and he was alone with his apartment, his remote control, and his rampant destructive thoughts.

Nails moved along his scalp as she tugged him closer, the deep, questing kiss kicking up his need a notch. He pulled away so he could stand up, take her back into the room where it was private. He wanted to take that dress off and explore her body all over again. This time he was going to map her every inch like goddamn Lewis and Clark.

But Mandy had different plans. She was grasping at his fly, making desperate little jerks at the button, her teeth grazing along his shoulder with nips.

Fuck, yeah, that felt good.

But he wanted to take it slow. Explore. Soft, gentle loving to show her he appreciated and respected her. He took her hands.

She ripped them away. “If you want to stop me, you’ll have to tie me up.”

Oh, my God. There was an image. And he was a sick bastard for picturing a helpless pregnant woman tied up while he licked her from the bottom up.

“I want in your trousers. Now.” She tore the button out of the hole so viciously it dangled from its thread, useless.

Okay, then. Maybe she wasn’t so helpless after all. “Jesus.” He held his hands out in surrender, hoping she didn’t rack him when she tried to unzip over his hard-on. “Go for it, honey.”

He certainly liked a woman who knew what she wanted, even more so when it was him. “But don’t you want to go in the room before we become oceanside entertainment?”

Since her mouth was on his nipple, sucking lightly, and her hand was dragging his zipper down, he was thinking she wasn’t too concerned about getting caught. But what he was feeling, what they were sharing, hell, it was private.

And he was having trouble thinking, breathing, resisting her. Another second and she was going to be dipping her fingers right over his…

Damien groaned. Damn, she had paused with her hand right over his cock. He throbbed, swelling harder into the palm of her hand, and she gave an encouraging squeeze that had him reaching for the chair, her, anything to hold him up and to keep from falling over onto her and begging.

“I suppose we could go inside,” she murmured, letting go of him so suddenly and stepping away, he almost pitched backward over the railing into the bushes below.

He might have whimpered. But before he could even recover his balance, Mandy was passing through the door, her arms twisted behind her back like she had an itch in an unreachable spot. Damien stepped toward her, his undone pants sliding down his hips, intent on scratching whatever itch she had. With his tongue.

But her arms settled back at her sides, and he realized she had been unzipping her dress. It fell to the floor with a soft thump, and Mandy glanced back at him over her naked shoulder.

Damien’s vision blurred, his tongue suddenly three sizes too big. Damn, his grandmother was right. She had always told him if he stared at a naked woman, he’d go blind. At twelve, he’d scoffed, sure she was just trying to scare him off girls. But now he had to rethink things. Mandy was so astonishingly beautiful it seemed actually possible he could lose his sight if he looked too long.

“Thank you, God,” he said, voice hoarse, throat tight.

She turned, a wicked little smile on her face as she reached for his crotch. “Are you praying?”

“Yes, I think I am.” The swivel she’d done had been too swift, he hadn’t gotten a good view of the front of her, but he was compensated by her sidling right up to him with full skin-on-skin contact.

Her breasts crushed against him as she bent down a little and he shuddered, stealing up to cup the fullness of her flesh, test its weight, stroke over her nipple. Her flesh was hot, her hair corkscrewing in the ever-present humidity, and she smelled so seductive, like chocolate and desire and coconut sunscreen.

“Oh, babe,” he said on a satisfied sigh, skimming his lips over her shoulder as she edged his pants down his thighs. “You don’t know how good this is for me.”

“Tell me.” Mandy reached into his boxer briefs and cupped his erection.

He sucked in his breath. “Very, very good. If it feels any better you’ll be feeling it in your hand.”

“Oh!” Her hand jerked on him, and when she glanced up at him, her cheeks were pink.

“Too crude? Sorry, sorry.”
Just don’t stop, holy hell
. She was holding him lightly, almost absentmindedly.

He ground his teeth, part frustration and part excitement that he was going to learn all the things Mandy liked. He looked forward to finding all the ways to arouse her, all the hot spots he could stroke or kiss or suck until she was mindless, screaming his name.

But first she was going to make
him
scream. Her fingers brushed over him again, a nothing little touch of torture.

“Hmmm?”

“I embarrassed you by being too forthcoming, no pun intended.” Oh, dear God, if she didn’t move her hand or do something with it, he was going to grab and grind it against him, and give away that he was losing control, letting his emotions and needs gush over and drive him.

“Oh, Damien, no.” She shook her head, wetting her bottom lip. “I was embarrassed because I had a sudden desperate desire to lay you on the bed and climb on you, and do, well, you know, to…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “
Ride
you.”

Yee-haw. Damien’s hand shot out, grabbing hers, and pressed them both against his erection, rocking a little to ease his suffering. “Do it.”

“But then I started thinking that I’ve never really been the sort who got into that, and it always makes me feel rather like I’m a tightrope walker being gawked at and liable to fall off at any given moment. And really, should I be entertaining these sorts of thoughts at all? It’s shocking.”

What was shocking was that she could stand there forming complete sentences. He was sure he couldn’t even recite the alphabet anymore.

“Just do it,” he repeated, practically growling.

Their hands were stroking in tandem over him now, and he wasn’t sure who was creating the movement, but he wasn’t going to worry about details.

Mandy nodded. “I had just come to that same conclusion. This holiday is about sensation and freedom and going with instinct. What feels good. And you feel so good, I have to feel you under me.”

Damien exercised the extreme willpower he had learned in the last three years and yanked himself away from her. With one swift motion, he dropped his pants and boxer shorts and stepped toward the bed, groping for the condoms he’d left on the nightstand.

Mandy didn’t wait for him to lie down. She attacked him, hands everywhere, lips racing frantically, legs tripping up with his until he fell flat on his back. Good to see he wasn’t the only one who had utterly lost control of the situation.

He wasn’t thinking, wasn’t even sure he was conscious, afraid that this wasn’t real, yet at the same time steeped in the certainty that this was happening, it existed, and it was fabulous and powerful and the most amazing experience of his life.

Grabbing her waist so she didn’t tumble down onto him, Damien gazed up at her, trying to decide lips or breasts first to take with his mouth, when Mandy sat up, legs on either side of his.

And spread herself with her fingers, aligned herself with his cock, and dropped down onto it.

The girl didn’t mess around.

He’d always known she was efficient.

It was the hormones. It had to be. Mandy shuddered over Damien, afraid to move, shocked at her aggressive behavior, stunned at how swollen she felt, how her body clasped around his hardness and tingled.

Never had she experienced anything like this, a total surrender to anything but how her body felt, a desperate urgent need to take.

Damien thrust up into her, stretching her, and she gripped the bed sheets, swallowing hard. Looking down at him, his pale illusive blue eyes locked on her with agonized pleasure and aching vulnerability, she groaned.

It wasn’t pregnancy hormones—it was Damien. It was the way he looked at her, the way he wanted her, the way he
needed
her, that had her spreading her knees apart so she could take him in farther.

Normally she didn’t like to be on top—the ballet lessons Mother had forced upon her were useless for the coordination required to move up and down on a man and look sexy at the same time. She figured she usually looked more as if she was in the throes of an epileptic seizure.

But Damien was just going to have to get past it.

Mandy wiggled a little to brace herself better, leaned over and kissed Damien, and took a deep breath.

He looked amused, his hands tightening on her bottom. “Show me your stuff, cowgirl.”

With pleasure. “Just remember, you asked for it.” She lifted, until only the tip of him remained inside her.

His eyes had narrowed, and he wet his bottom lip. “Oh, I’m asking all right. I can even beg if you want.”

When she sank down on him, they both groaned. “No begging required,” she panted.

“Good, because I’ve lost the ability to speak.” He squeezed his eyes shut while his fingers convulsed on her hips.

She knew the feeling. All her energy was focused on not whimpering as she moved up and down, up and down, finding a slow, delicious rhythm that sent shots of pleasure clear through to her toes.

“Oh, yeah, baby,” he said, eyes popping open to watch her with flared nostrils. “That’s it, you’ve got it.”

“I do, don’t I?” She did. She’d found the perfect pace, the perfect spot, and for this, right now, right here, the perfect man.

It was that thought, the sheer surprise of it, that had her widening her eyes and pausing. Damien reached between them and strummed his thumb over her clitoris.

“Damien!” She rolled her eyes back and skittered over into an orgasm. It was a smooth, drawn-out, wave after wave of ecstasy, her inner muscles clenching on to him still imbedded deep in her.

“Aah,” she whimpered, relaxing her hold on the bed, and tossing her hair out of her face.

Ready to slide off of him and collapse in a puddle of gratitude at his feet, Mandy’s head snapped back when Damien ground her hips down onto him.

“Just give me two minutes,” he said, thrusting with short, hard bursts that set off aftershocks in her body.

She tried to
tsk
, but it came out a breathy sigh. “That’s what you said last time.”

“This time I mean it.”

And apparently he did, because after two more pounding thrusts, he pressed his lips together and paused. Then exploded in her, the condom inflating a little as he filled it.

“Oh, my,” she said, reaching up to push her damp hair back.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” he said with a sigh, collapsing his head back onto the bed.

Legs wobbly, Mandy lost her balance trying to untangle her curls and pitched forward onto his chest. Yes, Mother had wasted all those hundreds of pounds on ballet.

Damien caught her before she could slam her nose into his, or break his teeth. “Hey, easy now. You’re baking a bun, remember? Got to be careful.”

He eased out of her and settled her gently on his chest, caressing along her spine, and Mandy had the stupid overwhelming urge to cry. This was so right, yet so wrong. Damien was her boss, a Caribbean fling, and yet he had more concern for her unborn child than the baby’s father.

And when he pressed a kiss on the top of her head as she snuggled into his hard chest, she did start to cry. Her child was never going to have a father, and when they got back to New York, this wonderful intimacy with Damien would be gone.

Embarrassed, she buried her face in his downy hair and tried to suck the sobs back, hold her shoulders still so he wouldn’t know.

But of course he did. “Are you crying?” He sounded terrified.