Her Nine Month Confession

‘You’re—’

She pressed a finger to his lips. ‘I’m not asleep or sleepwalking. I’m totally lucid, see.’ She directed a finger towards her own face. ‘Awake.’

‘I see,’ he said thickly, looking into the beautiful heart-shaped face turned up to his. The dark shadows under her incredible eyes and her bare, natural face didn’t alter the fact she was the most incredible-looking woman and he loved her.

* * *

‘Stay, Ben,’ she whispered urgently. ‘Please, I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to be alone.’

He let out a long low groan; he could feel his self-control slipping through his fingers. ‘You’re killing me, Lily. I wish I could, I really do.’ He brushed a tendril of hair from her face and found a spot of cold dampness on her cheek. ‘You’re crying,’ he husked, framing her face between his big hands.

‘Am I?’

She reached up and stroked his cheek. ‘I want to be held.’

His blue eyes were almost black as their eyes locked. ‘I wish I could.’ A man had to know his limitations. And Ben had already gone beyond his. He wanted to comfort her but he knew that if he touched her he wouldn’t stop there—he couldn’t stop there.

‘In the car you kissed me...’

He caught her hand and held it just away from his face.

Her long lashes fluttered downwards and then lifted as she said throatily, ‘I liked it. Could you kiss me again?’

His glance slid to her full lips. Oh, he could kiss her again but it wouldn’t stop there. So what’s so wrong with that? asked the voice in his head.

She wanted, he wanted, they were both consenting adults, so what was holding him back? Precious little, came the answer. When she declared—

‘Ben, please. I want you to make love to me!’

He had no control over his physical response but he could still have walked away; a better man would.

His eyes had darkened to navy; she could feel the tension in his body as the muscle under her fingers tightened and bulged. Her stomach tensed, the muscles clamping in an anticipation that bordered on pain.

‘Actually, I need you to make love to me.’ After all the pretending, even to herself—especially to herself—it was a relief to say it. The depth of the emotions she was experiencing fed into her voice, making it husky as she rushed headlong into an explanation that fell short of actually explaining how she was feeling. ‘I’ve been scared for so long. I just want to feel warm and safe and...’ She paused. Even in the midst of her recklessness, she retained enough caution to conceal some things. ‘Not alone,’ she whispered. ‘Do you know what I mean?’

He nodded slowly, the restraint he held himself under making his hand shake as his fingers touched her face. He intended to just brush her cheek, offering the safest version of the comfort she was asking for. Only once his fingers had made contact it was addictive, the texture of her skin, the thought of her warmth and softness, of sliding into it, into her, losing himself.

His fingers were framing one side of her face when his voice, made abrupt by the internal struggle, made a last-ditch effort to retain control. ‘You’re emotionally and physically whacked. You don’t know what you’re saying.’

She stared at him, disbelief mingling with the sting of utter mortification. ‘Don’t you dare tell me what I know and don’t know!’ she flung back furiously. ‘And don’t pretend you’re being noble and chivalrous—just tell the truth. You don’t fancy me? I can take it. I’ve been rejected by better men than you, you total bastard!’

He caught her hand before it connected with his cheek and he dragged her backwards so that she ended up sideways across the bed, lying full length on top of him, her softness slotting into his angles as though they were a designed fit. But there was nothing designed about this. This was more a collision fuelled by raw instinct and driving, aching need.

‘I only deal in the possible and it is not possible that any man has ever rejected you,’ he slurred, his eyes following the line of her throat down to where her breasts pressed against the cotton top she wore.

Lily, breathless, squirmed, managing to lever herself into a sitting position astride him as she shrilled back, ‘Let me go!’ She felt him shudder and leaned in close again to catch his low words.

‘I’m not the one holding on.’

The fight drained out of her as she shook her head in denial. The bonds of his hot, hungry stare were invisible but held her as firmly as steel chains.