Seductive Revenge. Maureen Child

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СКАЧАТЬ all of the other kids, but Caro was so much a force of nature, that even at four, she was completely sure of herself. And yet, having a doll with hearing aids had suddenly given Caro a boost of even more self-confidence.

      Wes had given their daughter more than a doll. He’d given her acceptance. Now, with his simple truth that he wanted to wait for the right time to admit to Caroline who he was, Isabelle’s heart was lost. Again.

      She took a breath, grabbed Wes’s hand, pulled him along the hallway and said, “Come with me.”

      “Where we going?”

      “Where we were always headed,” she said and tugged him into her bedroom. No point in lying to herself, Isabelle thought. This had been inevitable from the moment he arrived in Colorado. She’d known it, felt it. As if seeing him again had fanned every ember inside her into life, now that banked fire was a raging inferno and she didn’t want to try to quench it anymore.

      Moonlight on snow reflected into the room through the wide windows, giving the bedroom a soft, pale glow. She took a quick glance around the familiar space, the mountains of pillows stacked against the curved brass headboard, the thick, dark green comforter, the cozy chairs in front of the bay window and the brightly flowered rug across the gleaming wood floors. Reaching out, she flipped a wall switch and the gas fireplace in the sky blue–tiled hearth leaped to life.

      This was her sanctuary. She’d never invited a man into this space before—not only because she hadn’t been interested, but because she hadn’t wanted Caroline to watch men coming and going. Not that there would have been a parade of men or anything. Yet tonight, it somehow seemed inevitable that Wes would be the first. Isabelle wasn’t nervous, because it felt too right to her to second-guess herself. She’d made her decision and wouldn’t back down now.

      “Belle?” Wes looked down at her, desire warring with questions in his eyes.

      “No talking,” she said and went up on her toes. She hooked her arms around his neck, tipped her head to one side and kissed him with everything she had.

      Surprised, it took him a second to react, but then he was kissing her back, making Isabelle’s head spin when he deepened that kiss, stealing her breath. He parted her lips with his tongue, dipping into her mouth to taste, explore with a hunger that matched her own.

      His arms came around her, pressing her body tightly to his. Isabelle felt like she was on a roller coaster. Her stomach pitched wildly, her heartbeat thundered in her chest and everywhere he touched her, her skin burned.

      One of his big hands caught the back of her head and his fingers speared through her hair, holding her still for the wild plundering of her mouth. She felt every inch of his body along hers and moaned at the hard length of him pushing against her abdomen. She wanted him, maybe more now than she ever had before.

      She hadn’t been with a man since Wes. Isabelle had told herself that she simply wasn’t ready. That one day she would be and then she would move on. Find a life. But the simple truth was, she hadn’t been able to be with another man because it was always Wes that she wanted. Everything she’d once felt for him came rushing back in an undeniable wave, knocking her sideways while she struggled to find balance.

      Wes walked her forward a few steps, eased her onto the bed and then followed her down. He never let go of her, only adjusting his grip so that his hands could slide over her body with a fierce possessiveness that thrilled Isabelle. Finally, he tore his mouth from hers and she gasped and gulped for air.

      Tipping her head back into the mattress, she felt him tugging at the buttons of her shirt and wished wildly for Velcro closing. It would be so much faster. At that last thought, the fabric parted and his hand came down on one of her breasts. Even through the silky lace of her bra, she felt the heat of him, and when his thumb rubbed across her nipple, she whimpered.

      “Wes…”

      “No talking,” he whispered. “Remember?”

      “Right. No talking. All I’ll say is…more.”

      “Right there with you,” he muttered and flicked open the front clasp of her bra, freeing her breasts so that he could lower his head and take first one nipple and then the other into his mouth.

      Everything inside her exploded. Isabelle arched into him as his lips, tongue and teeth pulled at her sensitive nipples. A kaleidoscope of sensation shattered inside her mind. While he tortured her with his mouth, he slid one hand down her body to the waistband of her slacks, and in seconds he had the button and zipper undone. His fingers slipped beneath her panties to stroke her center.

      And just like that, she was wearing too many clothes. Isabelle’s mind struggled for clarity, even as her body shrieked at her to stop thinking and just feel. But she needed more of him. The hot slide of skin to skin, the feel of his hard, muscular body pressed to hers. The amazing sensation of him pushing into her depths and filling her completely.

      “I want to feel you,” she whispered.

      He lifted his head and grinned. “You are.”

      She laughed a little and felt it tremble through her. “Funny. But take your clothes off.”

      “Yes, ma’am,” he said, bending down to plant another long, hard kiss on her mouth.

      She loved the taste of him, the feel of him. And when he moved away from her to peel off his clothes, she missed his warmth, the heat of their bodies wrapped together. He stood up, and she shrugged out of her clothes, kicked her pants off and lay on the comforter, watching him. When he stopped dead, with his hands at his belt, she managed to ask, “What’s wrong?”

      “We can’t do this.”

      “What?”

      He pushed both hands through his hair in frustration. “No protection, Belle. I haven’t kept a condom in my wallet since I was in college.”

      She was glad to hear it. But she laughed a little and said, “Oh. For a second there, I thought you were changing your mind.”

      “Not a chance,” he said, “but unless you—”

      “In the bedside table drawer,” she said, wanting to cut this conversation short and get back to shivering and trembling.

      He pulled the drawer open, then looked at her, eyebrows arched. “Quite the supply,” he said. “Been busy?”

      She shook her head, licked her lips and choked out a short chuckle. “No. I think of that drawer as my hope chest. I figured it’s better to have them and not need them—”

      “Than to need them and not have them,” he finished for her.

      “Exactly.”

      He grabbed one of the foil packets, stripped out of his clothes and said, “I do like a woman who’s prepared.”

      “Show me.”

      He didn’t need another invitation. He came to her, covering her body with his, and Isabelle sighed at the first soft, warm contact of his skin to hers. She’d missed this so much. His scent, his taste, his strength. He was a businessman, but his big hands still carried the calluses he’d earned as a young man. And the scrape of his rough palms along her body created a new and even more exciting layer of sensation.

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