Seven-Year Seduction Page 12

  “Smart thinking.” She ran her fingers from the nape of his neck up through his hair. “You keep one with you in case of sexual emergencies?” she teased.

  “Yep. And there’s a whole box upstairs, too. You never know when some hot babe is going to jump your bones.”

  She tipped her head to the side, studying him for a moment. “Men live in a constant state of fantastic optimism, don’t they?”

  He flashed her a wide grin. “Of course. And sometimes it pays off.”

  She smiled back at him. “So are you going to use that condom, or stand around talking about it?”

  And just like that, his libido was flying full throttle again.

  “I’m going to use it.” He shucked off his boxers and tore the foil square open with his teeth at the same time. “Do you want to stay here or go back to the couch?”

  She glanced around at the countertops and cleared kitchen table before meeting his gaze. “Here.” She pulled him closer with both her arms and legs. “Now. Hurry.”

  “Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart.” He was already full to bursting, aching for her. Too much more and it would be over before it began.

  Making short work of covering himself with the thin layer of protection, he grabbed her up and kissed her. Her nails raked across his back, her ankles locked over his buttocks.

  While their mouths meshed and their breaths mingled, he lifted her from the counter and carried her to the table, laying her on the flat surface like a delectably erotic feast.

  She sighed and arched toward him, and he took the opportunity to nuzzle her throat, her chest. He circled one breast, then the other, purposely avoiding the straining peaks and leaving her wanting.

  With his lips on the soft, flat plane of her belly, he nudged the tip of his throbbing erection against her warm, wet opening. She writhed, trying to get closer, and he was so wildly aroused that he knew he couldn’t tease either of them any longer. He wanted her, needed her, had to have her right that moment or die.

  Surging forward, he buried himself inside her to the hilt, meeting her mouth and swallowing her gasp of delight.

  She felt like heaven, wet and hot and tight around him. He could have stayed that way forever, nestled in the cradle of her thighs, but she flexed her hips, urging him on, and his desperate libido took over.

  They moved together, thrusting, driving, fighting for air as their muscles strained and the blood pounded in their veins.

  Beth bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out at the sensations washed over her, but she kept her eyes open, watching Connor move above her. Her stomach quivered, her tender inner muscles clenching and releasing around him as he filled her.

  She held him close with her arms and legs wound around him, wanting to bring him as deep as possible, to become one with him. The soft, springy hair on his chest abraded her breasts, sending a Morse code of awareness down to her core.

  Moaning her pleasure, she nipped at his earlobe with her teeth. She could feel the pressure building, release just beyond her grasp, and she reached for it, straining, striving, lifting to meet every pounding drive of his hips.

  “Faster, Connor. Please.”

  “Yes.”

  He hooked his arms under her knees, pushing them even closer to her body to grant him better access as he increased his pace, and within seconds they both came, completion washing over them in wave after wave of the most intense pleasure she’d ever experienced. The tremors wracking her body went on and on as he thrust once, twice more and then fell still above her.

  His weight draped across her torso, heavy, but in an intimate, comforting way. Her fingertips drew nonsensical designs on his sweat-slick back and her lips were tipped up in what she knew must be a goofy grin.

  Raising his tousled head, he stared down at her, satisfaction glittering in his dark brown eyes.

  “You’re smiling,” he said.

  “I know.”

  His fingers brushed over the hair at her temples. “You look amazing.”

  “I feel pretty amazing.” She clutched at him where he rested inside her and felt him begin to stiffen again. “So do you.”

  He raised a brow. “Again?”

  “I’m ready when you are.” She flexed once more, just in case he had any doubts.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  He scooped her up from the table, keeping them connected, and swung around, heading out of the kitchen.

  “You sure do move around a lot,” she told him, hanging on and enjoying the jostling of their lower bodies with each step he took. “Now where are we going?”

  “Upstairs for more condoms. We may even make it into a bed this time.”

  “Mmm, making love in a bed. What a novel idea.”

  He chuckled, slapping her bare bottom. “Don’t be sarcastic. If you hadn’t been in such an all-fired hurry, we might have made it there the first time.”

  “Oh, sure. Blame the poor defenseless naked woman being carted around like a sack of potatoes.”

  A second later, he cracked his shin into a piece of furniture and swore.

  It was Beth’s turn to laugh. “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll live,” he replied through gritted teeth, rubbing absently at the bruised spot before continuing.

  “Need a flashlight?” she asked sweetly, throwing his earlier words back at him.

  “Very funny. Now be quiet while I concentrate on getting upstairs without maiming myself.”

  “I won’t say another word,” she promised in a hushed whisper.

  Instead, she brushed her lips along his cheekbone to his ear, where she sucked the fleshy lobe into her mouth and bit down gently with her teeth. He grunted, stumbling over the next step.

  “You’re killing me,” he grumbled. “I hope you know that.”

  She grinned, but didn’t respond. After all, she’d agreed to be quiet.

  At the top of the stairs, he tripped again, letting her fall to the landing and following her down. His body covered hers as he kissed her, releasing every ounce of passion and frustration that had built up in the last few minutes. When he pulled away, they were both breathing heavily.

  “Enough is enough,” he said, slipping out of her.

  She moaned in disappointment, already missing the feel of him inside her. But then he stood, scooping her into his arms, and made a beeline for the master bedroom.

  Reaching the bed, he dropped her in its center, and without a word crossed to the dresser. The mattress hadn’t stopped bouncing by the time he returned, old condom gone and a box of new condoms in his hand.

  He removed a single packet and tore it open, covering himself before he climbed onto the bed beside her.

  “Where were we?” he wanted to know.

  “Right about here.” She lifted her leg to drape over his hip and ran her fingers up and down his bare, bulging bicep. The tip of his masculinity pressed against her slick opening, seeking entrance, and she was more than willing to let him in.

  As he sank into her and her arms wrapped around him, drawing him closer, Beth sighed with contentment. She was getting exactly what she wanted: one night with Connor Riordan.

  It would all evaporate like mist in the morning, but for tonight, he was hers.

  Beth’s eyes fluttered open what must have been hours later. The room was still dark, but a hint of early-morning light filtered through the blinds from outside. The rain had stopped sometime during the night, and for long minutes, she lay there, unmoving, listening to the sounds of birdsong.

  She was cuddled up to Connor, her back to his front, with the blankets pulled up to their chests. Beneath the sheets, his arm circled her waist and her arm ran along his, her palm covering the back of his hand so that their fingers linked.

  She felt warm and safe and never wanted to move. A part of her even wanted to roll over and coax Connor awake with kisses and a gentle caress.

  But she knew she couldn’t. She’d promised herself one night to wash him from her system, to prove
she was over him, and that one night was now passed.

  It was time to start distancing herself, and the sooner she did that, the sooner things would get back to normal.

  Freeing her fingers, she loosened the sheets on her side of the bed and slid her feet out, then carefully slipped out from under his hold. She tiptoed across the hall to her bedroom, dressing in the first items of clothing she found, the low-riding jeans and cotton top she’d worn yesterday to paint.

  She used the hallway bathroom, planning to go downstairs and start a pot of coffee. But as she passed the open doorway of the nursery, the weak rays of morning sunlight flooding through the curtainless windows, spilling across the newly refinished floor, stopped her in her tracks.

  Even without furniture, the room was beautiful. Nick and Karen were going to love it. Any baby would be lucky to grow up here, especially knowing his aunt and “uncle” had put so much time and love into the renovations.

  So why did just looking at the fresh paint and unopened rolls of sea-creatures border paper make her sad?

  Letting her fingertips trace over the carved wooden doorjamb and new seafoam-colored walls, she stepped inside. She could picture the nursery exactly as it would be when it was finished, complete with a crib, changing table and rocking chair. Maybe even a bassinet for when the baby was still tiny and newborn.

  She imagined her brother and his wife bringing their first child home from the hospital…Nick rocking the baby while it slept; Karen sitting there, breast-feeding.

  But suddenly, it wasn’t Karen rocking Beth’s little niece or nephew. It was she, rocking her child. Her baby with Connor.

  She’d never seen their child, having miscarried so early in her pregnancy, but she had no problem now making out every detail of her baby’s features. The tiny little dot of a nose, the puffy baby cheeks, the delicate rosebud lips puckering in sleep.

  A sob escaped her and she backed against the wall, feeling the impact of the loss like a musket ball to the stomach. She covered her mouth with her hand and sank to the floor, feeling tears streaming down her face.

  Except for a lingering resentment toward Connor, she really thought she’d gotten over the emotional upheaval of the miscarriage years ago. How ironic to discover that while she’d managed to forgive Connor only days before for any part he did or didn’t play in the events of seven years ago, it was the actual loss that still hung so heavily on her heart and soul.

  It was so easy to envision what her life might have been if she hadn’t lost the baby. If she’d remained pregnant and found the courage to tell Connor that they were going to be parents, she knew exactly what would have happened. They’d have gotten married and found somewhere to live right here in Crystal Springs, where they could be near her mom and dad.

  And they would have been happy. She’d have finished school eventually and gone on to get her law degree…or maybe she’d have been happy as a stay-at-home mom. She and Connor might have had a couple more kids, her days filled with running carpools, cooking dinners and throwing birthday parties the envy of the neighborhood.

  And as successful, as happy as she’d been with her life in L.A., she knew she would have been equally—maybe even more—happy staying in her own home-town as a wife and mother.

  But only to Connor and his children.

  How had life gone so terribly wrong? She’d had such big hopes and dreams in high school and her first years of college, all of which had come crashing down in a matter of weeks. Whether it was the miscarriage or Connor’s failure to call her after the night they were together didn’t seem to matter now. None of it did. It was just life, with all its ups and downs, joys and disappointments.

  She’d made mistakes along the way, too. Not telling Connor the truth from the very beginning possibly being one of the biggest.

  Before she went back to California, she would be sure to rectify that. It wouldn’t be easy, she knew, but it had to be done. He deserved to know, and she deserved to spend the rest of her life with a clear conscience.

  They could never go back, never reclaim what was already lost, but they could move forward and continue to be friends instead of avoiding each other like the plague.

  Of course, after last night, that might not be entirely possible. But getting past secret-sex guilt had to be simpler than getting past secret-pregnancy guilt and seven years of lies.

  Taking a deep breath, Beth wiped her eyes and climbed to her feet. To her surprise, she felt relieved and more comfortable in her own skin than she had in ages. It wasn’t just the crying jag that cleansed her spirit, she realized, but her decision to come clean with Connor. What a crushing weight that had been to carry around all these years.

  She was still sniffing, drying her face with the hem of her shirt when a floorboard squeaked and she lifted her head to find Connor standing on the other side of the doorway. He’d pulled on a clean pair of boxer shorts, but was otherwise gloriously naked. The sun spilling through the windows was brighter now, turning his legs and chest a golden bronze.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, brows drawing together in concern. “What’s wrong?”

  She made one last swipe at her face, even though she knew it was too late to hide the fact that she’d been crying. He’d already noticed her tear-stained cheeks and red, swollen nose.

  “Nothing, I’m fine,” she said. And then she shook her head. “No, that’s not entirely true.”

  Reaching out, she took his hand and pulled him farther into the room. “Connor, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  His face blanched, his grip on her hand tightening as he sensed it was bad news. “Okay.”

  She took a deep breath and dived in, knowing if she didn’t, she might never get it out. “I never told you this, but seven years ago, when we slept together after that football game, I got pregnant.”

  His expression didn’t change, but she felt his entire body turn to stone. Whether that meant he was furious with her or merely digesting the information, she pressed on.

  “I didn’t tell you, and I should have. I think I would have, early on, if you had ever called or come to see me.”

  She held up her free hand, not to ward off any arguments he might make, but to keep herself from traveling down that tired, well-worn path.

  “I’m not blaming you or saying you did anything wrong. We both made mistakes seven years ago, and if we had it to do over again, I’m sure we would do things a bit differently. I’m just telling you this because…” She lowered her eyes and licked her dry lips. “You deserve to know. And I’m tired of keeping it a secret, tired of being mad at you for something you weren’t even aware of.”

  “I don’t understand.” His voice rasped, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard, searching for words. “If you were pregnant, where’s the baby?”

  She blinked, caught off guard by the question. She’d been expecting a barrage of anger, a furious why didn’t you tell me? Instead, she realized she hadn’t shared with him the most important part of what had happened all those years ago.

  “I’m sorry, Connor. I should have told you right away,” she said, her own throat threatening to close on her. “I lost the baby.”

  For long minutes, he held her gaze, barely blinking, barely breathing. “I don’t know what to say,” he finally forced out.

  “It’s all right, you don’t have to say anything. I just…don’t want you to hate me. I spent a lot of time carrying this pain around with me, and even though I think you have the right to know everything that happened back then, I don’t want you to make the same mistake now.”

  “I wish you’d told me. As soon as you found out.”

  She nodded in agreement. “I know. I wish I had, too. But I was young and scared, and I hadn’t heard from you since that night.”

  His fingers clamped around hers. “If I’d known, I would have done the right thing. I never would have let you go through that alone.”

  One corner of her mouth turned up in a bittersweet h
alf smile. “I know you wouldn’t have. And I appreciate it.”

  They stood there for several more seconds, each at a loss as to what else needed to be said. Beth hoped her confession would ease her conscience, but she also hoped Connor wouldn’t dwell too long on the past…the way she had.

  “I’m flying back to California tomorrow,” she said after the silence had dragged on for a full minute. Running her palm over his stubbled cheek, she added, “Thank you for last night, and thank you for that night seven years ago. Despite everything, I really am glad you were my first.”

  With that, she pulled her hand from his and stepped around him, out of the room.

  Eleven

  Connor stood in stunned silence long after Beth walked away. Minutes or even hours might have passed, he wasn’t sure which. And he didn’t care.

  He heard Beth’s footsteps as she paced down the hall, heard her moving around in her bedroom, likely packing. And he wanted to chase after her, he really did. But his feet seemed glued to the floor, and his brain refused to function past the bomb she’d just dropped on him.

  They’d made a baby together and he’d never known it. She’d lost that baby and he’d never known it. The ramifications of those facts whirled through his head like a tornado.

  He thought he’d been an idiot seven years ago for letting things get out of hand with her in the first place, but now he knew he was an idiot for not checking on her afterward. For not calling to see if she was all right, both physically and emotionally. For not driving up to the university to be sure there’d been no consequences from his lapse of judgment.

  He’d been young, sure, but old enough to take responsibility for his actions, especially where Beth was concerned. If anything, he owed her more courtesy and respect than other girls because they’d grown up together, practically as family.

  A baby. He couldn’t believe it. He’d fought his attraction to her for so long, and the one time he’d given in, he’d gotten her pregnant. Worse, she hadn’t felt comfortable enough to come to him when she’d found out.