The Stud Page 7

  He touched her sleeve. "Is there a nightgown under this?"

  She nodded.

  He kept his voice low and gentle. "Want to take the robe off?"

  Head still bent, she slipped the silky fabric from her shoulders. In a strained voice that sounded as if she were trying for humor but missed, she said, "Right about now, the nurse would be handing me a paper sheet, telling me to take everything off from the waist down and climb on the table. "

  "No table here. No paper sheet" Spencer paused. In an even lower voice, he said, "Is there anything you need to take off from the waist down?"

  She shook her head.

  That bit of information sent a spark from his brain to his groin. Needing to touch her, he curved a hand around her neck. At the same time, he lowered his head to her hair to breathe in the sweet scent of roses.

  She slipped away from him. Climbing into bed, she moved to the far side and slid down against the pillow.

  The room was dark, but Spencer's eyes had adjusted enough to see the tension in her body as she lay waiting for him. His first impulse was to stand there debating what to do next, but if he hesitated for long, she would remind him that they could go to the doctor's office in the morning, and he wouldn't, couldn't do that. It went against his grain. And his groin. He was already aroused.

  Coming down on a knee, he crawled across the queen-size bed until his thigh met Jenna's hip. He touched her face and whispered, "There's nothing to be afraid of. "

  "I'm not afraid, " she whispered back.

  He traced her jaw. "Then tense. "

  "I just want this to work so badly. "

  "It will if you relax. I can help you do that. " He slipped his hand to her neck, then her throat.

  Her eyes were wide in the dark. "You don't have to, Spence. Really. I'm okay. I'm really fine. "

  "Well, I'm not, " he said, taking a different tactic. Climbing under the bedcovers, he stretched out on his side, facing her. "I want you now, want you badly—"

  "You don't have to say that. "

  "It's the truth. " Needing to show her, he rolled on top of her and let her feel the full weight of his lower body. He knew he'd made his point when she took in a quick breath. "Believe me?"

  "I believe you. "

  "Then relax your legs a little so I can feel you where I'm supposed to. "

  "This is so embarrassing, Spencer, " she murmured, but she did as he asked. She caught in another breath when he settled more snugly against her.

  "Feel okay?" he asked.

  "Feels okay, " she answered.

  "I'm supposed to be on top, aren't I?"

  "Yes. I'll lose... less. This is so embarrassing. "

  "No, it isn't. It's nice. " He moved gently against her. "I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner. "

  Her voice was more breathy. "You didn't think of it because I'm not your type. "

  "If you're not my type, why am I so hard? And besides, how would you know what my type is?"

  "Caroline tells me. "

  "Caroline knows diddly-squat. " He was wondering if he knew much more, since he had known Jenna all these years without seeing the possibilities, but that was water over the dam. Carefully holding his upper body weight from her, he said, "I'm afraid I'll hurt you if you're not ready, so I'm going to touch you now, Jenna. Just a little. I know you don't want to get into things this way, but if I hurt you, I won't be able to go on. I want you to feel good, too. "

  "I don't need that. "

  "But I do. " He lowered his head to her neck and kissed the warm skin there, kissed it lightly, then, without planning to, more deeply, because her scent did something to him. That something was strong enough to startle him. His muscles were trembling faintly when he raised his head. "Jeez. "

  She was instantly alarmed. "What's wrong?"

  He laughed, then growled. "Nothing. " He buried his face against her neck and undulated helplessly against her. He couldn't believe how aroused he was. He supposed it could be because he hadn't had a woman in a while, but he'd had dry stretches before without this sudden, dire wanting. Against her neck, he warned, "I don't know how long I can hold off, Jenna. "

  Her arms, which had been lying still until then, crept around his back. Her fingers dug into his muscles. "Don't wait. Don't wait. Do it now. "

  But he had to know if she was ready. So he ran a hand down her side and came up under her nightgown. The feel of her smooth, bare thigh against his palm was like fire, but no more so than the uneven-ness of her breathing. That, too, had crept up on him. It was the most welcome sound in the world just then.

  "Are you okay?" he whispered hoarsely.

  Breathlessly, she whispered back, "I'm okay. "

  He touched her between her legs, and a tiny sound came from the back of her throat. "You're sweet, " he murmured. "So sweet. " He stroked her, gently finding his way deeper. Well after he had the answer he sought, he continued to rub her. "I want to kiss you, Jenna. "

  "No!"

  "Your mouth. " He lowered his head to hers, but her high-pitched plea stopped him short,

  "Don't, Spencer, please don't. Kissing makes it something it's not. " She paused and let out an involuntary kind of hum. At the same time, albeit in a motion so subtle as to missed by a lesser lover, she moved her hips against his hand.

  Spencer wanted to argue, but she was ready for him, and, Lord knew, he was ready for her. Taking his hands from her only long enough to drag the towel from his hips, he tangled his legs with hers, spreading them farther apart, and positioned himself at their notch. He reached for her hands and held them on either side of her head. Then he watched her closely while he pushed forward into her warmth.

  She was tight. Wonderfully tight. He let out a sigh and grinned down at her. "How does it feel?"

  "Full. "

  "It is that. " His grin persisted. It stretched wider in an agony of pleasure when he withdrew and thrust forward again. He moaned this time and with a steady downward pressure deepened his penetration. "Jenna, oh, Lord, Jenna, " he whispered. He wanted to laugh, or hug her, or yank up her nightgown and put his hands all over her. Instead, with another moan, he said, "This feels so good. "

  "I'm not too short?"

  He did give a laugh then, a low, throaty sound. "Hell, no. We fit—" he took a shaky breath "—very well. " As though to prove it, he slid against her inside and out.

  She let out a tiny gasp. "I'm glad. " Her hands came around to his front, palms grazing his nipples, then returning there when he sucked in a great gulp of air. "I want a baby, Spencer, " she cried. "Give me one, please, give me one?"

  The reminder of her purpose should have doused at least some of Spencer's flame, but it didn't. Quite the opposite happened. He felt a heat so sudden and intense that he nearly came apart. Yielding to the demand of his body, he moved against Jenna with a hard, driving rhythm that gained in speed and depth until, with a last, forceful thrust and a near-savage cry, he erupted inside her.

  His orgasm went on and on. He was panting and damp with sweat when he finally collapsed on top of her, and even then, he kept his buttocks locked so that he could stay deep inside her until the last bit of pulsing pleasure was done. Finally, after several long, air-thirsty breaths, he rolled to the side.

  Jenna was on her back, her head turned to look at him. Even in the dark, he could see the expectancy on her face. He knew she was thinking of the baby, and felt a glimmer of disappointment. His ego had wanted her to be bowled over by his lovemaking, so much so that she forgot the reason behind it. But, then, she had worked hard to keep that reason in her mind. Perhaps it was for the best.

  With a gentle hand, he unbunched the nightgown from her waist and lowered it to her thighs. When that was done, he put his fingertips to her lips. Then he cleared his throat. "So. Did we do it? Did you feel that little spark when egg met sperm?"

  She was lying so quietly and was so long in answering that he wondered if something was wrong. He was about to ask when, in a small voice, she said,
"There isn't any little spark, at least not one I'd be able to feel. "

  "Do you feel any different?"

  "I don't know. "

  "What does that mean?"

  Lying very still, she said, "It means that I feel different, but I don't know whether it has to do with the baby or not. "

  "If not, what would it be from?"

  It was a while before she said, in an even smaller voice, "What we just did. "

  Spencer felt a light jab inside. Rolling to his stomach, he propped himself on his elbows with his head inches from hers. "Was it any good, Jenna?"

  "It was great, " she said with a burst of enthusiasm. "You were incredible. I mean, if any man can make me pregnant—"

  "For you, " he interrupted, and put a hand on her stomach. "Was it good for you? Did you feel good down here?" He started to move his hand lower, but she grabbed it and held it still.

  "It felt nice. " She paused, then admitted, "Better than I thought it would. "

  "Why did you think it wouldn't?" he asked. He'd been wondering about that a lot, wondering why someone like Jenna hadn't had terrific experiences with men. "I told you once that it had to be the guys, and I believe that now more than ever, since I sure as hell can't find a thing wrong with you. But why were you expecting the worst with me?"

  "I wasn't expecting the worst. It's just that I wasn't doing it for the pleasure of it. "

  "But there was some?"

  "Yes, " she said softly.

  He was relieved to hear that. His own pleasure had been so intense that he was feeling very selfish. "I wish there had been more. Can I do it for you now?" He tried to move his hand lower, but she tightened her hold on it.

  "No. I'm fine. Really, Spencer. "

  "I'd like to. "

  She gave a short shake of her head.

  "Then let me hold you, at least, " he said, and was reaching to pull her into his arms, when she gave a small cry and put a protesting hand on his chest.

  "I'm supposed to lie flat for a few minutes. The less I move, the greater the chance of something getting where it's supposed to be. "

  Spencer could understand that argument, but he was feeling a need that wasn't to be denied. "Okay, " he said agreeably, and hoisted himself up. He punched and pushed at the pillows until they were arranged to his satisfaction. Then he arranged himself in such a way that he could slip an arm under Jenna and bring her against him without moving her lower body an inch. "If the mountain won't come to Muhammad, " he said with a sigh.

  "You don't have to do this, Spencer. It's not part of the deal. You have work to do. Don't feel that you have to lie here—"

  He covered her mouth with a hand. "If I wanted to work, I'd work. If I wanted to get up, I'd get up. Trust me, Jenna. " He removed his hand.

  "But—"

  He put his hand right back. "Good Lord, you're like a broken record! Yes, I know that I'm only here to help you make a baby and that anything else is unnecessary, but I want to hold you—I just want to hold you. Unless you really don't want to be held. In which case I'll crawl off to the corner and lie there in a pathetic heap until I recover enough of my strength to crawl back down the hall. In case you've forgotten, I've just given you every bit of the life in me!"

  Jenna relaxed against him. "Not every bit, " she scolded, but with good humor. "You've got enough left to argue. "

  "Barely. "

  She made a sound against his chest. He felt her breath stir the hair there, and was stunned when the stirring echoed deep inside him.

  "Jenna?"

  "Yes?"

  "Are you feeling less embarrassed now?"

  "A little. "

  "There was really nothing to be embarrassed about. "

  "There was. You're you. "

  "And you're you, but I'm not embarrassed. "

  "Men are more cavalier about things like this. "

  "Like having a baby? Are you kidding?"

  "I was talking about having sex. You'll be able to go downstairs for breakfast tomorrow morning like nothing at all happened. It may be harder for me. "

  "And so it should. Something did happen. But that doesn't mean seeing each other has to be hard. "

  She drew in a deep, faintly shaky breath. When it left her, it stirred him again. "When you do that, " he said in a low voice that held equal parts humor and warning, "I start thinking about all those things under your nightgown that I want to feel clearly but can't. " He turned himself so that she could clearly feel what that thinking was doing to him. With his mouth by her ear, he said, "How long do you have to lie here?"

  "A little longer. "

  "Can we do it again then?"

  "No. We have to wait until Monday. "

  "But I want you again now. "

  "Spencer. "

  "I do. Can't you feel it?" he asked, knowing that she had to, since his arousal was heavy against her groin.

  "We have to wait until Monday, Spencer. That way we'll be optimizing the chances of conception. "

  She was missing the point. She was deliberately turning a deaf ear to the fact that he found her attractive, and one part of Spencer wanted to shake her hard. The other part just wanted to make love to her again, to feel that intense pleasure again, to give her a taste of it this time.

  Since neither part was going to win out—and since he did understand the importance of her lying still— he let it go. He could live until Monday, he supposed. He guessed he'd have to.

  Chapter 6

  Jenna awoke on Sunday morning to the lingering scent of Spencer in her bed. Burying her face in the pillow, she breathed it in. She rolled over, taking the pillow with her, and, eyes still closed, held it close as she remembered the events of the previous night.

  Her insides tingled. She put her hand to her stomach and wondered whether, indeed, there was the beginnings of a baby inside. The thought brought her down to earth with a reminder of what she was supposed to be doing. Taking the thermometer from the night stand, she put it under her tongue. Five minutes later, satisfied, she returned it to its case.

  The timing was right. Her ovaries were about to release an egg, and an army of sperm was waiting right there to fertilize it. The conditions were optimal. Her doctor would be pleased.

  Smiling softly, she lay back, and in that instant, felt more peaceful than ever before. In the next moment, she felt a burst of energy. Pushing the sheets aside, she climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

  By the time she emerged, she had showered, knotted her hair back and made up her face—none of which she would normally have done on a lazy Sunday at home. But there was nothing normal about this Sunday. She had a house guest, one whom she wanted to impress with her poise, her maturity and her competence. To that end, she bypassed her usual shorts and T-shirt in favor of a more sophisticated pair of narrow white pants, a long navy blouse that she belted at the hip and navy flats.

  She listened at the door for sounds of Spencer but heard nothing. He had been up late the night before— she had heard him moving around the house—and was still sleeping, she assumed. Grateful for that, she tiptoed down the stairs and into the kitchen, where, as quietly as possible, she put coffee on to brew. She had just closed the lid and was turning around, when the sudden sight of his large figure made her jump.

  Gasping, she pressed a hand to her heart. "I didn't hear you. "

  He was standing barefooted in the doorway, wearing an old sweatshirt and sweatpants. A dark stubble covered his jaw, lessening the effect of his scar. He looked sleepy and mussed and thoroughly endearing. He also looked unabashedly masculine—so that even if she hadn't smelled him on her sheets, even if she hadn't thought of him during her shower, even if she hadn't been thoroughly intimate with him the night before, she would have felt his pull. It helped some that his eyes were half-lidded; if those electric blues had been open wide, she might have melted on the spot. Her cheeks were heated enough as it was.

  In an attempt to buy time to calm down, she tugged open the refrigerator
and peered inside. She had gone to the market on Saturday and was well stocked.

  "Would you like an omelet? I have some terrific Vermont cheddar to put in it. Or ham. Or onions. Or all of the above. " She straightened, took a half step back and bumped into him. Her head shot around, eyes up to his. "Sorry. I didn't hear you come over. " She ducked into the refrigerator. "If you'd rather have bagels and cream cheese, I have those, or you can have an omelet and a bagel—"

  "Jenna. "

  She set a carton of orange juice on the counter. "Hmm?"

  "Look at me, Jenna. "

  She darted him another quick glance before going back for the butter. "Pancakes, maybe?"

  He put his hands on her shoulders and physically turned her. "Jenna, look at me. "

  That was the last thing she wanted to do. Looking at him would bring back the image of what they'd done in bed, and that image made her squirm. But she wasn't a coward. Mustering the composure that stood her well as president and chairman of the board of McCue's, she tipped up her chin and met his gaze.

  "You're still embarrassed, " he accused.

  "A little. "

  "But why?"

  She knew he was mystified. What was a little sex to him? He had made love to more women in his day than she had dated men. He was freer with his body, and more confident in it than she would ever be in hers. He wouldn't understand the discomfort she felt knowing he was Caroline's big brother, the awe she felt knowing he was a world-renowned adventurer and author. He was larger than life, and though she was successful and sophisticated within her own sphere, that sphere was narrow. His was not.

  But she didn't want to go into all that. So she said, "The husband of one of my good friends is a gynecologist. Sharon can't understand why I don't use him, but there's no way I could. Some things demand detachment. If Don were my doctor, each and every time I saw him, whether it was at a cookout here, at a party somewhere else, at the movies, the post office or the supermarket, I'd know—we'd both know— what he'd seen and touched. I'd be mortified. " She paused, then added, "Having sex with you is a little like that. You're not my lover. You're my... my... I don't know what to call you. "