The Best Is Yet to Come & Maternity Bride Page 11

She put on her gown and lay down, but she couldn't sleep. It was a long time before she finally heard the suite door open. But if Ryder went to his own bedroom immediately, he didn't go to sleep.

  He hadn't looked in on Ivy. Tonight, he was too raw to take the risk. He'd thought of nothing but her all day, and despite the taunt he'd made about the French woman, he wanted nothing to do with any woman except Ivy. He undressed and climbed under the sheet, trying to drive the memories of her out of his mind. He could see her the way she'd been at the Castillo in St. Augustine, feel her response on the beach in Savannah. And the more he thought about it, the more aroused he got until his body had him on the rack. He moved restlessly, stifling a groan. He had to get his mind off her!

  Ivy heard his restless movements in the other bedroom, despite her closed door. His temper was so short lately that it was almost triggered by breathing. He went from bad to worse, and she didn't know what to do. She had felt him watching her, as if he were waiting for something, but she couldn't decide what. All she knew was that he was hurting in some terrible way, and she wanted to help him.

  With the lights out, the noises seemed magnified. She heard what sounded like an agonized groan and, without stopping to think, she got out of bed and turned on the light.

  She moved toward his door, all too aware of the dangers of walking into a man's bedroom dressed in a practically see-through blue gown with a bodice cut low in front and back. But this was Ryder, not some stranger, and he was her friend.

  She opened the door quietly. The small lamp by his bed was on, but he wasn't reading. He was lying sprawled under part of the sheet, one muscular forearm thrown across his eyes.

  Her bare feet made no noise as she walked across the carpet and paused, fascinated, by his bedside. The sheet only covered his hips. The rest of him, from his broad muscular chest with the thick black hair curling down below his lean waist, to his long, powerful bronzed legs with their feathering of hair, was bare to her curious eyes.

  She'd never really cared to see Ben without his clothes, but Ryder was another matter. She looked at him with eyes that widened with a shock of pleasure, delighting in his masculinity, in the perfection of his body.

  He moved, moaning again, and his forearm slid away from his eyes, revealing Ivy standing by the bed.

  He stiffened. "I must be drunk," he said absently.

  "I heard you," she said softly. "Are you all right, Ryder?"

  His jaw tautened as his eyes slid over her body, lingering on the thrust of her breasts, their creamy rise visible in the deep neckline. Her black eyes were soft, her long black hair falling gently around her creamy shoulders, and he wanted her with such an anguish of longing that it almost choked him. "Get out of here, Ivy," he said huskily. "Quick!"

  He sounded dangerous, and for once, she didn't care. She felt alive as never before. She tingled all over, just looking at him.

  "Why?" she asked. "Can't you tell me what's wrong?"

  "Do you really want to know?" he asked in a goaded tone, frustration and desire so hotly mingled that his body was in agony. "All right, why not? You're a big girl now. This is what's wrong with me, Ivy."

  He threw off the sheet.

  Her lips parted on words she couldn't speak. He was totally aroused, so blatantly that even a virgin couldn't have missed it. He was trembling faintly, too, and his eyes were gray and glittery in his drawn, dark face.

  "Oh, Ryder," she whispered helplessly, and the dark, soft eyes that looked at him were openly worshiping, not afraid or even embarrassed. It was, she thought dazedly, impossible to be embarrassed at the sight of so beautiful a man.

  "God!" He sat up, turning away from her with his head in his hands. "God, I must be mad! I'm sorry. Go away, honey, will you?"

  She moved forward, unbearably touched by his pain. She sat down beside him, her cool fingers hesitant as they touched his arm.

  His head jerked around and he looked at her as if he didn't believe she was still there.

  "Lie down, Ryder," she whispered, her voice unsteady. She didn't know exactly what to do, but she had a pretty good idea. She couldn't walk away and leave him like this, even if he hated her for it when he was himself again.

  "What?" he burst out, disbelieving.

  She pushed at his shoulders, coaxing him onto his back, his silvery eyes astonished. She didn't meet them. Her head bent and she touched her mouth hesitantly to his hair-roughened chest while her other hand slid down his flat belly.

  He cried out harshly, his voice throbbing, and his hands caught her hair. "Ivy…for God's sake…no!"

  She didn't stop, though. Her trembling fingers found him, touched him, a little intimidated by the sheer power of his body. Her lips drifted over his taut skin, the hair at his waist tickling her face, while her hand stroked.

  "No…" he groaned, shivering.

  "Teach me how," she whispered without looking at him, and she kept on. He was vulnerable, and she'd never been less frightened in her life than she was right now.

  "Ivy!" His voice broke, but her touch had an inevitable effect on his reserve. His hand guided hers, his body reacting with shattering need, the shudders racking him now. She felt him tremble under her mouth, heard his tortured breathing as he tutored her.

  When he convulsed, crying out in ecstasy, she forced her embarrassed eyes to lift, to look at him. It was incredible.

  Even in their most intimate moments, Ben had never looked like. ..that! She might have thought he was dying if she hadn't known better. He pulsed in her grasp, helpless, blind, deaf, to anything but the pleasure that almost made him pass out.

  When the spasms passed, she left him to find a damp cloth and a towel. He lay just as she'd left him while she drew the warm cloth over him with exquisite tenderness, her heart beating fiercely in the aftermath of what she'd shared with him.

  His dark eyes opened, faintly accusing, almost incredulous. He was still trembling.

  "Are you all right?" she whispered softly.

  "Yes." He caught her free hand and drew its palm hungrily to his mouth. "Thank you!" he whispered feverishly, his voice still husky with pleasure.

  "I'm sorry I was so clumsy," she said hesitantly. "I've… well, I've never…"

  His eyes searched hers. "Not even for him?"

  She knew he meant Ben. She shook her head shyly. Her eyes glanced off the curiosity in his and down to his broad, bare chest with its thicket of hair. "Ryder, could I ask you something…well, something personal?"

  "What do you want to know?" he asked softly.

  "What happened to you, just now…" she began hesitantly, her wide eyes meeting his. "What does it feel like?" she asked in a subdued whisper.

  He scowled. "You were married. Don't you know?"

  She paused, then with a sigh, she shook her head.

  He sat up, his dark eyes holding hers at an unnerving proximity. What he asked then was blunt and to the point.

  She blushed. Even Ben had never asked her something so intimate. "No."

  "Did he know?'"

  "Oh, yes," she replied. "He said that I was frigid." She moved restlessly. "It was so uncomfortable," she murmured, wincing. "And sometimes, it hurt awfully!"

  His lean, beautiful hands framed her face and made her look at him. "Did he never do to you what you just did to me, to make it easier for you?"

  "I don't understand," she said.

  He couldn't believe what she was saying. All that beauty, all that innocent sensuality, and it had never been tapped. In every real respect, she was untouched. His hungry eyes went over her soft oval face with its big black eyes dominating it, her silky black hair falling around her bare shoulders, around the firm thrust of her beautiful breasts. He had to drag his mind back.

  "How long did it take him?" he asked bluntly.

  "Ryder!"

  "I have to know," he said softly. "Trust me."

  She averted her eyes. "I don't know. Not long. He was always in a hurry…"

  "Less than five minutes?" he ask
ed through his teeth, his face rigid.

  "Well…" She swallowed. "Yes."

  He sighed heavily. "My God," he said.

  "I thought I loved him," she said. "But I didn't want him," she said miserably. "I had no idea how it would be to live with him, feeling that way."

  He tilted her face up to his. "I want to give you what you gave me," he said quietly. "Will you let me?"

  She colored. "You don't have to…"

  "You asked me how it felt," he said, his voice deep and slow. He drew her onto the bed and eased her down on the sheet, her dark hair waving around her flushed face like a halo. "I'm going to show you."

  "Ryder…" she protested nervously, pushing both hands against his hard, bare chest, feeling the thick hair crisp under her fingers.

  "It's all right," he coaxed. "I don't have anything to use, so intercourse is out of the question. It won't hurt you, either."

  She felt his breath on her parted lips as he bent. "Don't men usually have…something to use?" she asked nervously.

  He smiled against her trembling mouth. "Ivy, I haven't had a woman for almost two years," he whispered. "Why should I bother to keep anything?"

  "You haven't…?"

  He took the muffled question into his mouth. She smelled of roses, and he thought that he'd never been so close to heaven in all his life as he was tonight. The touch of her, the taste of her was exquisite. His body still throbbed warmly from the peace she'd given him so generously, and so unexpectedly. Now he wanted her to have it, too. To experience the unbearable sweetness of belonging to someone who cared deeply, who loved her more than his own life. He couldn't tell her that. She wouldn't want to hear it, just yet. But knowing it added another dimension to his soft kisses, to the delicate caress of his fingers on one soft, bare arm as he gentled her, made her receptive to his advances.

  "Relax," he whispered. His hard lips touched her softly rounded chin, moved down to the quick pulse in her throat, to her collarbone. "Relax, little one. I won't hurt."

  She caught her breath as his mouth moved again, nuzzling aside the gown to find the soft curve of her breast. Her hand went involuntarily to his thick, dark hair. But instead of pushing him away, it lingered in the cool strands. Something was happening to her. She quivered as his lips brushed and lifted, brushed and nipped, brushed and nibbled ever closer to the hard, sensitive peak of her breast. She couldn't fathom the sudden hardness of it, or the throbbing warmth that began to build in her lower belly.

  Ryder felt her heartbeat building, heard her breathing change. She was aroused already, and he'd barely begun. He slid his open mouth fully over her nipple and created a faint, warm suction, tasting the nipple with his tongue as he built the pressure.

  She cried out. Her fingers trembled and she arched up to him, her body shuddering.

  He felt his own swift arousal, triggered by hers, and fought to keep his head. It was her satisfaction he wanted now, not his own.

  His free hand moved down, bunching the gown slowly up her silken thighs until he found his way under it, to the soft bareness of her inner thigh. She tensed, and when he touched her delicately, she caught his hand and gasped.

  He lifted his head, looking down into her wide, frightened eyes. "Yes, it's very intimate, isn't it?" he asked softly. "But I let you touch me like this."

  That was true. And despite the faint embarrassment she felt, his fingers were creating some feverish sensations as they moved deliberately. Her grip on his wrist relaxed and she let her hand fall back to the bed, watching his face as he touched her more and more intimately.

  A flash of pleasure caught her unawares and she jumped, shivering.

  "Yes," he said quietly, his eyes steady on hers. He touched her again, watching her reactions, and increased the slow rhythmic movement until she was gasping, faintly writhing on the sheet.

  She arched, hating the fabric that concealed her body from him, because quite suddenly she wanted him to look at her. Sensuality was killing her shyness, desire burned in her body like white heat.

  "Look…at me," she whispered brokenly.

  "I am," he breathed huskily.

  "No. At all…of me," she managed.

  His breath caught. "God!" he ground out. He moved long enough to strip her hungrily out of the gown before his hand found her again, keeping her in a sensual daze. His eyes lingered on her exquisite nudity, the sight of her hurting him. He forced his eyes back up her long, shapely legs to full hips and a small waist and taut breasts. His gaze held on the dark nipples so tight and swollen, and he bent to suckle them, enjoying the noises she was beginning to make. She had pretty breasts, and she seemed to enjoy having them touched and kissed. His teeth drew gently over a nipple, making her catch his head and gasp fearfully.

  He lifted his head, feeling her legs part even more as she began to arch up to his hand. "I won't hurt your nipples," he whispered. "I like to bite," he added, bending his head to nibble hungrily at her bare shoulder, her waist, and back up again. "Is it all right?"

  "Yes…!" She was trembling now, shivering all over as he increased the smooth rhythm of his hand. "Ryder!"

  He lifted his head so that he could watch her. In a very real sense, this was her first time, and he didn't want to miss a gasp, a grimace, a single expression on her face. He leaned closer, filling her vision.

  "When you feel it," he whispered sensuously, "try not to close your eyes. I want to watch you."

  Watch you…watch you…watch you. The deep, sexy voice echoed in her mind as the pleasure bit into her body. He blurred in her wide, shocked eyes as she convulsed. She heard a helpless, high-pitched cry that seemed to go on and on as the sensations piled on themselves and racked her helpless body. She'd never imagined anything as exquisite, pleasure so hot and intense that it was almost pain. She didn't know how she was going to bear it, and she felt tears wet on her face as the spasms reached a crescendo and then, finally, began to recede to uncontrollable trembling. Silver threads of pleasure wound down her spine and she collapsed, her helpless, shocked eyes meeting his and understanding the triumph and savage pleasure she read in them.

  He smoothed his lean hand up her body, pressing down hard on her belly, sliding boldly over one soft, swollen breast and lingering on its silky heat.

  "Is making love fully like this?" she whispered shakily.

  He nodded slowly. "More complicated, of course," he whispered. "And much more dangerous."

  "Why?"

  His eyes slid to her belly and lingered there with an almost desperate hunger that she couldn't see. "Because I could make you pregnant," he said gruffly.

  Her heart leaped, but all too soon it came back to earth. Her smile was sad and regretful. "No, you couldn't," she said gently. "Ryder…I can't have a baby."

  His breath caught. He lifted his head and winced as he looked down at her. "Oh, God, Ivy!" he groaned hoarsely.

  She couldn't understand why he looked as if he needed comforting. Her own pain was familiar. Even though she'd had a rocky time with Ben, she wouldn't have minded a baby. Involuntarily her mind went back to Jacksonville, to the little boy Ryder had rescued from the river, and the way he'd been with the child. He loved children. He would want them, and now he knew that she couldn't have them. But another woman probably could… She pushed the thought away and touched his cheek tenderly. "I'm sorry," she said, forcing back tears. "I wanted children, so much!"

  He bent and put his mouth gently over hers, moving so that his hair-covered chest brushed over her swollen breasts in a lazy, teasing seduction.

  "It's all right," he whispered at her lips. "It doesn't affect who you are, what you are. It doesn't make you less a woman. I think I've already shown you that." He lifted his head and looked down at her flushed face, levering up on his forearms so that he could see her breasts.

  She shifted nervously at that bold, intent appraisal.

  His eyes met hers. "Are you going to go shy on me, now that we've eased the need in each other?" he asked gently, smiling.
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br />   "I'm afraid so," she said. She shivered a little. "I could never even let Ben look at me…like this." Her eyes widened. "And I let you look at me when…when…"

  His face hardened. "Shall I tell you how you looked?" he asked huskily. "Or is it easier to picture if you just remember my face when you brought me to fulfillment?"

  She went red, but she didn't look away. "I never dreamed I could do that to a man."

  "For the record, why did you?" he asked.

  "You were hurting," she whispered. Her fingers touched his hard mouth gently. "Oh, Ryder, you were hurting, and I had to do something!"

  He shivered. So there was still hope. She cared that much, so it was possible that she might one day care even more. It gave him hope.

  He caught her fingers and nibbled them one by one. His pale eyes kindled. "In that case, I'll tell you a secret," he said, his voice deep and slow in the quiet room. "I've never let a woman, any woman, do that."

  She brightened visibly and smiled at him. "You let me," she whispered.

  "I didn't stop you," he murmured dryly. "I didn't have much choice by that time. My God, who'd have thought it? Shy, gentle little Ivy, pushing me back onto the bed and having her way with me. Your mother would be shocked speechless."

  She sat up, her body exquisitely positioned above him. "You wouldn't tell my mother?" she protested.

  "For God's sake, she'd kill us both!" he reminded her. "Come down here." He pulled her into his arms again and loomed over her, his face relaxed, his eyes and soft and possessive. "I want to sleep with you."

  She wasn't in the throes of passion now, and she hesitated. It was hard to consider doing that in cold blood, even after the intimacy they'd just shared. "I…I don't know," she said hesitantly, frowning.

  He smoothed out the frown with a forefinger. "Not that way," he said softly. "I mean that I want to hold you all night."

  "Oh." She wanted it, but she felt oddly shy with him now, even though her blood was surging through her veins.

  "Ivy, we're both consenting adults," he said quietly, as if he read the thought in her mind. "I was in agony tonight and you gave me peace. I hope I did the same for you. But it was a need I wouldn't have wanted anyone else to satisfy. Do you understand, honey?" he added, as if it mattered. "I'd have gone hungry before I'd have permitted any other woman that kind of freedom with my body."