Cherokee Baby Part 21

baby's first toy."

A blast of panic struck her hard and quick. She'd fallen in love with him. This wasn't supposed to

happen. She wasn't supposed to let her emotions go that far.

He wiggled the bear's arms, making it dance, and she took a much-needed breath, fighting for oxygen.

"Sometimes I still can't believe this is happening." Furry brown feet kicked this time. "I'm actually going

to be a dad."

She released the air in her lungs, and he smiled. "Do know you what's going on in there?" The teddy bear poked a playful paw at her tummy. "The baby's not much bigger than an inch, but its facial features are already formed. It's amazing, isn't it? Our kid probably looks like us, even now."

Us. The two of them.

Of course she loved him, she thought, watching those dark eyes crinkle. How could she not?

"We should wait until the baby is born to come up with names," he said. "That's the Cherokee way."

Still struggling for composure, she merely nodded. "In the early days, a Cherokee baby was named in a ceremony by an elder in the community. A Beloved Woman," he explained. "An older lady who held a place of honor among the people. But the name she chose wasn't always permanent. Later in life, a new name might be earned or given."

He tucked the teddy bear under his arm, clearly set on buying on it. "But things have changed. Today the father names a child."

And that was important to him, she realized. To adhere to tradition, to play a significant role in naming their baby.

"A lot of things have changed," he went on to say. "In an ancient Cherokee household, a man moved in with the woman he married, and he was restricted in his authority over the children. Now, a man is the undisputed head of the household."

She didn't know how to respond, not when his words barely applied. How could he be the head of the household when they didn't even live together?

"I want the baby to have my last name," he said.

Then marry me, Julianne thought hopelessly. Marry me.

When she remained quiet, a frown creased his brow. "Celeste did that for Michael. She gave himCam's last name."

Because Celeste had loved your brother, she wanted to say. The way I love you.

"Is this conversation upsetting you?" he asked. "I'm not trying to discount your roots. We'll teach the baby about your heritage. About magic, myths and Irish folklore."

"I'm not upset." She looked into his eyes and saw her future, a need she couldn't deny. "Everything just seems to be happening so fast."

"I know. But we're figuring things out." He leaned into her, pulling her against his heart.

Julianne closed her eyes and listened to the strong, steady beats, praying that somewhere deep inside of him, he'd begun to fall in love with her, too.

Chapter 11.

Hours after the shopping spree, Bobby pulled his truck onto the ranch and then remembered that he'd left his cell phone at the barn. Should he stop now? Or deal with it later? Now, he decided. He needed a few minutes to gather his wits, to prepare for the lovemaking ahead.

He didn't know if he should bring Julianne to his house or to hers. If he should burn candles, play soft music or drawa herbal-scented bath and let her relax first, soak in the tub by herself.

He wanted to do right by Julianne. But these days, romance eluded him.

When he looked over at her, she smiled, as spellbinding as an enchanted sprite. Orchids bloomed on her skirt and fire danced in her hair, warming his blood.

Bobby could almost taste the heat, the flames licking his skin. And like the hungry male he was, he could imagine taking her here, in the truck, with stars peeking down from a darkening sky.

In his truck? Was he crazy?

He hadn't had s.e.x in a vehicle since he'd lost his virginity. And even then, he'd been nervous, an anxious teenage boy lacking finesse.

Apparently romance had eluded him in those days, too.

"I have to swing by my office," he said, parking at the side of the barn. "I left my cell phone there. Do you want to come in or would you prefer to wait here?"

"I'll go with you."

She brushed his hand and he steadied his breath. He couldn't remember wanting a woman as badly as

he wanted Julianne. Not evenSharon. Don't go there, he told himself guiltily. Don't compare your new lover to your dead wife. They exited the truck and walked the short path to the building. Security lamps burned softly and a mild breeze blew, scenting the air with night-blooming fragrances. He guided Julianne into the barn and they went straight to his office. He flipped on a light and closed the door, automatically locking it behind him. "I'll only be a minute. Of course, I should probably check my messages." "Take your time. Is it okay if I make a cup of tea?" "I don't think I've got any tea. But I'm pretty sure there's some hot chocolate. The instant stuff with the little marshmallows." "That sounds even better." She headed for the kitchenette and he sat at his desk and found his phone. So what was he going to do?

Whose house should he take her to?

He supposed hers would be the logical choice. His might seem too presumptuous, even if she had agreed to be with him tonight. By the time Bobby checked his messages, Julianne stood behind him, sipping chocolate.

She leaned over and put the cup on his desk. "I've been dying to unbraid your hair. To see how long it is."

He didn't turn around. "Really?"

"Mmm. Would you mind, Bobby?"

He closed his eyes. She was asking for permission to touch him, to send erotic shivers up and down his spine. "No, I don't mind."

She unbound the braid gently, working her hands into his hair, combing through the dark ma.s.s with agile fingers.

"It's beautiful," she said.

He opened his eyes, felt his body harden. "So is yours. I have fantasies about your hair, Julianne." He turned in his chair,then rose to kiss her.

Their lips met, as warm and moist as a summer rain. She tasted sweet, like swirling chocolate and melting marshmallows. He stroked her tongue; she sucked on his. Within seconds, they were devouring each other in a hot, voracious kiss.

He pulled back and their gazes locked and held. "I've been going crazy. Wondering how to please you.

What to do to make this right."

"Just love me," she said.

"Here? Now?"

"Yes."

That was all it took. One word. One need.

He reached for her blouse and unb.u.t.toned it. The silk melted in his hands as he let it fall to the floor. Her skirt came next. He slid the pleated circle down her hips and she stepped out of the elastic waistband.

Bobby couldn't have dreamed this; he couldn't have planned for it to unfold the way it did.

She stood in front of him in a white bra and simple panties. She looked so delicate, so trusting, in bits of

cotton and lace.

He took a moment to appreciate that her legs were bare, that she wore nothing but skin.

Smooth, creamy skin.

When he unhooked her bra and discarded it, he filled his hands with her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Soft, he thought as he rubbed his thumbs around the darkened areolas. "Pretty," he said out loud as her

nipples hardened from his touch.

Anxious, he went after her panties, and she held on to his shoulders while he removed them.

He guided her toward the chair. She sat and looked up at him, clearly wondering what he had in store.

Bobby lowered himself to the floor, finding a comfortable position in front of her. Recognition dawned in

her eyes and he smiled.

She still wore her shoes, a pair of strappy sandals that tied around her ankles. He tugged at the crisscross of leather. "Bondage," he said. She laughed, her hair falling forward, draping her face. "I'm a little kinky." "So am I." He grabbed her hips, scooted her to the edge of the chair and pulled her toward his mouth. The air in her lungs whooshed out and he knew he'd aroused her good and proper. She bucked on contact and he took what he wanted, what they both craved. He tasted her, encouraging her to press closer, to rub against him.

He deepened his next kiss, licking and teasing, swirling with his tongue. She arched her back and made a needy sound. Nothing mattered but this moment, he thought. This feeling. This woman. She played with his unbound hair, touched his face, his mouth, his tongue. He licked her fingers and pressed them inside of her, making her stroke herself.

She gasped and he glanced up her. She looked down at him and, for a moment, they just stared at each other. It was, he thought, the single most erotic instant of his life. He kissed her again, as intimately as he could. Julianne climaxed against his mouth, her body going taunt, then molten, then taut again. Bobby rose to his feet, taking her with him. Desire churned, stiff and erect in his jeans. He could still taste her release, the sweet, musky flavor. He lifted her onto his desk, tore off his shirt and battled his belt. His breath burned his throat; his mind went foggy. He fought for control, told himself to slow down. Don't hurry. Don't let this end too soon. He unzipped his pants, waited a beat,freed himself. When he slipped into her, Julianne pulled her hands through his hair.

He quivered like a stallion, nibbling her neck, breathing in her scent. She wrapped her legs around him, and he bit back the urge to take, to ravish.

With care, with caution, he moved, determined to love her reverently.

She kissed him in response and he slid his hands over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, around her hips and let the sensation linger on her tummy.

She touched him, too, caressing muscle and bone, hard edges and rough planes.

He pushed deeper, increased the rhythm, pleasuring himself, arousing her.

They danced on water, on a wave as mystical as the shimmer in her eyes, as green as a Celtic sea. Time

pa.s.sed and his heart beat with every stroke, every rocking motion.

Sighs, sweet surrender, unspoken promises.