A Tempting Engagement Part 13

"Sort of spectacular," shefinished, her brown eyes luminous with wonder. Another first-time experience.

The strength of his primitive, possessive response he was first, she was his! rocked him to the core. His hands closed over her knees. He leaned in close. "Onlysort of?"

"It felt a little one-sided." She moistened her lips. "As if something wasmiss -"

Mitch agreed. He kissed her long and hard, his hands on her hips, her back, supporting her, holding her, dragging her forward and up against the thick pulse of his erection.The missing something? h.e.l.l, he'd missed this mouth, so sweet and hot and giving. And her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He'd been too eager he needed to see, to touch.

With his mouth still on hers, he unhooked her bra and felt the needy quiver of her lips. He couldn't stop himself plunging his tongue into her mouth and grinding his hips against hers, wishing his jeans gone. Wanting to be inside her everywhere. "I don't have enough hands," he muttered, relinquishing her lips to tug the sweater over her head.

And Emily his practical, helpful, intuitive Emily came to his aid, ridding him of his sweater and unb.u.t.toning his shirt and jeans because his hands were full of her luscious b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Then her hands were full of him, and the strength of his response punched a guttural groan from his throat. Too good. "Not good," he ground out.

Her desire-hazed eyes turned hesitant. "Did I hurt you? Sorry, I-"

"No, G.o.d no." He shook his head and pressed a kiss to her mouth. A second. "Just risky, given my current state."

And she insisted on checking out his meaning with an inquisitive, heavy-lidded gaze and the gentlest stroke of one fingertip across the head of his need. She was killing him. He had no hope of regaining control, of waiting, of prolonging.

Of remembering his purpose.

Hands under her knees, he hauled her to the very edge of the desk. Her fingers curled into the taut muscles of his b.u.t.tocks, and he felt the erotic slide of her dampness. Her spectacular, extravagant, welcoming heat. "Is this risky, too?" she asked.

A scant breath away from plunging, he remembered what this was about this risk, precisely and he couldn't do it. "I don't have protection."

"Oh." She swallowed. "Do you want to go and get some?"

"Your choice."

Wistful wanting softened the desire in her eyes, a glancing hint of all he'd seen in her expression when she'd held Chantal's baby. She knew yeah, she knew the choice she was making, yet she barely paused, barely blinked, before lifting her knees and hugging his hips with her thighs.

He'd promised not to ask, so he didn't. He told her, "You are going to marry me."

"Yes."

Her answer screamed through him as he sank into her heat, all the way home in one powerful thrust. For a long moment he didn't move, couldn't move, as the sensation of lodging in her slick, tight embrace blew his mind.

It's the complete nakedness, he reasoned as a wave of terrifyingly raw emotion shuddered through him. The forgotten sensation of skin to most sensitive skin, that's all.

But he could not reason away the knowledge that glowed in her dark eyes as he started to move inside her, in long, powerful, driving strokes. It transcended pleasure, transcended s.e.xual release and tapped into his primitive, male drive. Procreation: the chance that this joining could result in a new life. That knowledge arced between them and thundered in his blood, a thick pulsing rhythm that drove him on without any thought for control, without any desire to hold back.

On some other plane he felt the bite of her short nails and tasted sweat on her skin as he kissed her throat and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and marked her as his mate. When he drew one hard-tipped nipple into his mouth and sucked strongly, her body arched and lifted. She cried out, dragging him with her as shudder after fierce shudder racked their joined bodies.

Mitch's climax exploded with white-hot intensity, splintering him with shards of elation and atonement and rightness and as he wrapped her lax body in his arms and carried her to his bed an intense possessive desire to never let her go.

Emily woke late the next morning, relaxed, hungry no, starving! and alone. The last left her torn. On the one hand, she appreciated the opportunity to stretch and wince and then hug herself with a big, feel-good smile all over her face. On the other hand, she was ... alone. And after the most personal sharing experience of her life, that didn't feel quite right.

So, okay, more than a tiny corner of her heart craved that warm, intimate morning-after togetherness she'd fantasized about the first time, and maybe somewhere in the future they would experience that, she and her husband. Her tummy turned over as she applied that alien label, and again with an extra twist at the recollection of how they'd consummated her yes to his proposal. In all ways, the truest sense of the word.

Not right, Emily Jane,a tiny voice warned, but she shoved it aside along with the bedclothes. Sure, he'd had seduction on his mind, to get the answer he wanted, but she'd been the most willing of partic.i.p.ants. After holding baby Charlotte, her mind had made itself up. The anxiety attack in the car coming home had been nerves, a natural response to the huge decision already made but not yet spoken. And they'd both agreed on the no-condom issue there'd been no arm twisting, no pressure,no subterfuge.

"So there," she told that little worrywart voice of conscience. "You can shut the heck up!" Because she was still Joshua's nanny and late for work. Her clothes, she guessed, remained strewn over the office floor, so she grabbed the lengthiest sweater she could find in Mitch's closet and pulled it over her head.

Heart racing, she tapped on the office door,then pushed it open a crack. Mitch her future husband, she thought, this time with a warm flutter of pleasure sat in the big office chair with his back to the door, and he held up a hand in a be-with-you-in-a-tick gesture. The warm flutter stilled and cooled. Apparently, this was another morning at work, same as any other, no big deal.

Okay, Emily Jane, you can do this, too. A marriage without emotional upheaval, featuring her good, practical, even-tempered self.A pleasant smile, a nice good-morning, grab your clothes, get out of here.

Her clothes sat in aneatish pile on the spare chair Mitch must have gathered them up, although she couldn't quite put that picture together. The scene from last night, however, loomed large and detailed in her mind's eye. Her sweater atop the computer monitor, her panties and skirt pooled on the floor where they'd dropped, and her bra ... she didn't even recall losing.

Warmth flushed her cheeks as she pushed up the dangling sleeves of her borrowed sweater and crossed to the chair. "I won't disturb you," she began with a crispness she in no way resembled. "Seeing as you're working. I'll just grab my things and leave you be."

But when she bent to pick them up, heat tingled up her spine. She straightened to find Mitch had turned his chair enough to watch. By the angle of his head and that telling tingle, she knew exactly what he'd been watching.

The idea was so much more appealing than his no-greetinggreeting, that a big smile spread across her face. "Sorry if I'm interrupting."

"I wasn't working," he said evenly.

Good. Excellent, in fact. Ridiculously pleased, she hugged her clothes to her chest. "Me, neither, and it's after nine. You should have woken me."

"I thought about it ... but I had things to do."

Emily recalled the last time he'd used that things-to-do phrase, just before he hung up on Julia last night. Predictably she turned a little jelly-kneed. Then she wondered if he'd thought about waking her as he'd done in the middle of the night, after they'd slept with their bodies spooned in cozy harmony. With his big hands stroking her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and his teeth grazing her ear and his- "I called my in-laws' lawyer," he said, shattering her sensual reverie.

"TheBlaineys ?" she asked stupidly. Well, of course theBlaineys . Did he have any other in-laws, current or ex?

"I made an appointment for next Tuesday afternoon, late. InSydney."

"Will Randall and Janet be there?" With exaggerated care, she sat down in the chair. "Have you spoken to them?"

"Not personally but their lawyer will. It's their choice, but this meeting isn't about visitation, so who knows?" He shrugged tightly.

"Are you taking Joshua, then?"

"No. He can stay with my parents while we're gone." He swung back to his computer, suddenly all business. "I thought it a good opportunity, since I'm going toSydney, to find a convenient registry office and get the marriage paperwork under way. You have a birth certificate?"

She opened her mouth, closed it again,shook her head.

Mitch frowned. "Are you all right?"

"It's just ... my head's still spinning from last night, and now you're asking me about registry offices and birth certificates?" She lifted her hands and let them drop, unsure what bothered her most. His cool, remote tone, yes. The unsettling speed, yes. Was he afraid she may still run away? Or did he just want to get it over with so he could resume normal programming?

"There's a thirty-day notice requirement," he said. "It requires both our signatures and the celebrant's so we need to decide where we're getting married before we can lodge it."

"Decide where...?" Laughter, inappropriate and borderline hysterical, bubbled up inside, but one glance at her husband-to-be'sdarkening frown killed the impulse. "I've barely decided that Iam getting married. I haven't spent a whole lot of time thinking aboutwhere ."

"A registry office is the best bet. We should be able to get an appointment for as soon as the thirty days are up."

Emily knew better than to wish for a romantic ceremony with all the traditional trappings, but an appointment sounded so cold and clinical. So unemotional ... just like the marriage Mitch wanted. Despite the bundle of clothing hugged against her chest, she couldn't prevent a chill from crawling over her skin. She sucked in a raggedbreath, let it out on a shaky laugh. "Is there a need for such a rush? I need to think about this registry office thing."

"You want a church wedding?"

"No, I just..." Her voice trailed off as she looked up into his face. "I was only thinking that local might be nicer thanSydney."

"So every man and his dog can line up outside to stare at you, to wonder why you've gotten married so fast? Is that what you want?"

"That wouldn't bother me," she said candidly.

When the day came, she would notice one thing only this man she was marrying. Everything else would fade into the background as long as he stood waiting to take her hand, to have and to hold and never let go. And as quickly as that thought tiptoed across her mind, the imagery snapped into focus like a page from her wedding alb.u.m.

She could smell the rosebud b.u.t.tonhole in his suit jacket; she could see the smattering of dark hair on the back of the hand that reached to take hers; she could feel her throat clog with choking, sentimental tears.

Unfortunately the last wasn't only in her mind's eyes, and she jumped to her feet, casting around for a valid excuse to get the blazes out of there before she succ.u.mbed to her emotions. "I'll think about it, okay? Right now I have to go collect Joshua. You said ten-thirty, right?"

He stared back at her a moment, his expression scarily unreadable. Emily had to dig her bare toes into the carpet to stopherself fleeing. She knew as sure as she stood here wearing nothing but a man's sweater she would hate whatever he was about to say.

"Why don't we both go," he suggested in a tone that wasn't a suggestion at all. "We can go intoCliffton first and look at some rings."

Rings? As in engagement rings? As in symbols of the unbroken circle of love?

Emily didn't realize that her body had gone slack in shocked response, until the clothes she'd clutched so tightly fell to the floor. For a moment she stared at them stupidly, her skirt and sweater and underclothes spread out in stark counterpoint against the muted beige carpet, and then she ducked down to pick them up.

Apparently Mitch had the same idea, because they ended up at opposite ends of her bra in a gentle tug-of-war. She let go and slumped back onto her haunches.

"Don't you want a ring?" he asked.

Confused, unsure, Emily shook her head. She didn't know what she wanted except for all this to be ... different. Meaningful. "I think that's something else I need to think about," she said quietly.

For a second he said nothing, but she felt him watching her, probably trying to work out what had happened to that practical, emotionally even creature he thought her to be.

"I'd like you to wear my ring," he said finally, and her gaze leaped to his. "So please do think about it."

"I will."

"And in the meantime-" his eyes, she noticed, were no longer cool, no longer intent on the business of this deal "-I notice you're wearing my sweater."

Emily swallowed. "You don't like it on me?"

"I'd prefer it off you." Heat arced between them. "Come over here."

Emily knew that succ.u.mbing to the heat and the desire would not resolve anything. She even suspected he might use the moment to twist her arm about rings and registry offices. But as she inched across the carpet toward him, as she rested her hands on his knees and used the purchase to pull herself into his arms, she told herself it didn't matter.

She was marrying the man she loved, he was offering her the family she craved, so did it really matter how or where they said their vows?

Chapter 12.

"Is the ring not comfortable?" Mitch gestured toward Emily's hand and the solitaire diamond she'd been twisting and turning on her finger ever since he put it there an hour earlier.

"It just feels a little strange," she murmured, but he noticed how her lips softened as she looked down at her hand, moving her fingers slightly so the stone caught the afternoon sunlight. "But it's beautiful."

"Suits you," he replied automatically, taking her arm to cross the street. "Almost as much as that forget-me-not underwear."

The compliment and/ or teasing brought color to Emily's cheeks, but she didn't comment. She'd been quiet all afternoon no, longer. Ever since they leftPlenty for the city earlier that morning.

"So, you're glad I persuaded you to get a ring?" he persisted, keeping hold of her arm when she tried to reclaim it at the other side of the street. He leaned down closer to her ear. "Or did you at least enjoy my means of persuasion?"

Predictably her blush deepened and even more predictably Mitch's body reacted. For the past ten days since she'd said 'yes', he'd applied many and various means of persuasion, and now here they were inSydney, with a ring on her finger, a registry office earmarked and a date penciled in. All they needed was one last piece of paperwork, and by the end of the day that, too, would be settled. He hunched his shoulders against a sudden chill in his flesh. Five hours and it would all be over. Finished. Done.

A group of tourists spilled out of a hotel into their path, and Mitch tucked Emily closer to his side as he guided her around their perimeter. Her body b.u.mped against his with every step, warm and giving and ... tense? He glanceddown, saw her flicking at the ring with her thumbnail.

"If it's not the ring," he began, frowning at the nervous gesture, "is it the registry office? Didn't you like it?"

"No, it was fine. Nicer than I thought, with the pews and flowers and everything. It's ...it's stupid." She made a small, dismissive sound. "Preweddingjitters, I suppose."

If she meantthose dark-of-night , gut-twisting attacks of self-doubt Why am I doing this? How can I make her happy? What will I do if she leaves me, too? then he understood. "It'll be okay once we get these formalities over with."

"I guess." But she didn't sound very convinced, and Mitch wondered if the speed things were moving had spooked her. Dinner tonight, somewhere cla.s.sy, he decided as he ushered her down the side street toward where he'd parked the SUV. HerSUV, that she'd only driven around the countryside. Perhaps she needed a distraction from whatever troubled her. At least with two hands on the wheel she'd be forced to stop worrying her ring to death.

"How about you drive?" he asked, fishing for the keys. "There won't be too much traffic this time of day."

"I'd rather not."

"I'd rather you did." He released her arm, but only so he could press the keys into her hand. He closed her stiff fingers around them. "You said you wanted to try."

With her head bowed, he couldn't see her face, but he could feel the tension in her fingers. "Yes, I do, absolutely, but this isn't the best time."

"Good a time as any." He released her hand and stepped back. "Come on, Emily, stop thinking about it and just do it. Open the door and get in the seat. Once you start, you'll be fine."

"It's not the driving, Mitch." She blew out a breath that sounded a little shaky around the edges, and the keys jingled a nervous, metallic dance as she shifted them from one hand to the other. "It's not going very well, this getting married business, is it?"

"Hey." He cupped her face in his palm, brushed his thumb across her cheekbone. "This getting married business is almost done."

When she opened her mouth to respond, her lips trembled, and Mitch's breath backed up in his lungs. d.a.m.n, he hated thesetremory spells. Hated his feeling of helplessness even as he shushed her second attempt to speak and drew her against his chest, not tightly, but in a loose-armed grip that gave her s.p.a.ce to move. s.p.a.ce to retreat if she didn't want his embrace. Lately the only place he knew what she wanted was in his bed, and that thought didn't thrill him half as much as it ought. He wanted ...h.e.l.l, all he wanted was for this strange new state of their relationship to settle, to establish a pattern where he knew what to expect.

A gust of wind swirled down the street, stirring Emily's loose hair so it whipped across his throat and teased his jaw and chin. That fleeting touch combined with the scent of her shampoo to set up a warm ache in his chest, right where her head lay against his leather jacket. Then her hands shifted, sliding under his jacket to rest on his waist, one flat and warming all the way through his shirt, one fisted to hold the car keys.

It was the simplest touch, not teasing or suggestive, but natural and ... trusting. The ache in his chest tightened,then it shifted and swelled like a wave, knocking his feet out from under him. Not what he wanted, this terrifying wash of response to what should have been an uncomplicated embrace. Not what he'd envisaged, when he'd asked her to be his wife.

Tension stiffened his posture in a reflexive reaction, and her head lifted a little. Enough that he could rest his hands on her shoulders and exert sufficient pressure to peel her all the way clear of his body. Good. Great. Now he could breathe again. He wasn't missing that soft, warm pressure at all.

"Better now?" he asked.