He guided her face to his, flicking his tongue along the seam of her full mouth. She opened, begging for more, needing the reassurance of connecting on any level, even if just the physical. With a whispery moan, Marianna slid her arms around Sebastian’s neck, deepening their kiss. Their mouths mated with the familiar, yet unexplainable frenzy she’d come to accept as inevitable.
His hand crept up, cupping the curve of her breast, his calluses rasping against the silky fabric as he caressed the added fullness brought on by pregnancy. The tightening bud of response echoed a thread of longing pulling tauter inside her.
Sebastian paused, his mouth hovering a scant breath away. “Are you all right, with the baby—”
“I’m fine.” Marianna plucked at the buttons down his shirt. “The doctor said so. In fact, it’s a good thing for me to stay awake. Remember?”
“Let me know if—”
“I will,” she said between kisses as they started up the stairs, trailing clothes behind them, his jacket, their shoes, the undressing going faster this go-round.
As the stairs turned, he stopped on the landing, pressing her to the wall again. She didn’t want to think about tomorrow or their failed past. She wanted to dive into this craving for Sebastian and never climb back out. Apparently, his feelings weren’t too different from hers because he kissed her with a fierce passion that had her legs going weak while her arms conversely grew stronger as she held on.
A white flutter snagged her attention as Sebastian tossed his shirt down the stairs. When had he peeled it off? She didn’t care as long as her hands got to explore more of him.
Her dress slid down her shoulders, and she couldn’t recall how it got there. Again, not that she cared as long as he swept it aside and away…ah, yes. She pressed her near-naked body to his.
He bracketed her with his arms, his hands flat on either side of the wall. Sebastian leaned forward, his breath steaming over her skin, sending shivers down her spine, making her all the more aware of the chair railing at her back.
His lips crashed down on hers again. She met his power, gripping his hair to bring him closer. Her mouth opened, wide and hungry as she tangled her tongue with his in a battle of wills that promised much for both of them if neither gave up.
That last flight of stairs looked like a never ending trek. Marianna sagged, her arms locked around his neck and his arm hooked around her back, the only restraints keeping her from sliding to the…
The floor. Yes, the floor of the landing was perfect and immediate, taking away those last few steps that would give her time to reason her way out of something she wanted, needed so damn much.
Sebastian eased her to the thick wool rug on the landing. “Now? Here?”
“Absolutely.”
She rocked her h*ps against his, moaning at the glorious sensation of being intimately close to him again. His leg wrapped around hers, bringing her nearer, nestling her against the throbbing length of him. He slipped a restless hand inside her bra. His thumb caressed tantalizing circles over her swollen br**sts. She arched her back to fill his palm, the increased pressure only making her crave more. More of this. More of him.
He growled low and hot against her ear. “I thought you didn’t want to have sex.”
“I don’t.” The real reasoning for her words earlier flowered in her mind. “I want us to make love again.”
And yes, she wanted that even as she knew it could well be impossible for them to recapture.
She saw his eyes shift, the blue cooling to that shade that meant he was working to distance himself from deeper emotions. Emotions he’d called wasted drama in the months leading up to their divorce. If she let him think too long now, they would lose what little chance they had to connect on any level tonight.
“Hurry.” Marianna worried her bottom lip between her teeth as she struggled with his belt. She freed him with a caress too slow to be anything other than deliberate. Sebastian throbbed in her hand as his fingers skimmed aside her bra and panties.
He propped on his elbows to keep the bulk of his weight off her, his gaze sweeping down her body with an admiration a woman would have to be comatose not to enjoy.
Comatose. Just the word brought that fearful moment in the car, those frightening seconds when she’d woken up in the hospital. All of it reminding her of what she could have lost tonight.
Making her determined not to take whatever she could.
She guided him inside her, carefully, slowly, then slid her hands inside his pants to urge him deeper.
He pulled his mouth from hers. “Look at me.”
Her lashes fluttered, but didn’t open. She guided his face closer, bowed up to meet him.
He inched away, tightening his grip on her hair, her curls draping down a step. “Marianna, look at me.”
She nuzzled his neck before staring up into his eyes, half afraid of what she would find. “Okay. I’m looking.”
He tipped her face, his pupils so wide with an intensity that pushed the blue to a thin ring. He thrust into her. “My name.”
“What?” What was he talking about, and how he could even think, much less talk?
He stroked again, his hand grazing over her hair as it trailed down the wooden stairs. “Say my name.”
She pressed her lips to his, refusing to let jealousy ruin this moment. “Sebastian.” She raked her fingers along his shoulders. “Sebastian.”
Marianna circled her h*ps against him, willing him to toss aside some of his seemingly endless supply of control. So damn frustrating when any semblance of control seeped from her the minute he touched her with his hands, his eyes, even his words. She closed her eyes, locked together by something stronger than she even wanted to fight anymore. She simply let their need with its own special frenetic rhythm have its way, driving her closer to completion with each thrust of his body.
Release exploded through her and she repeated his name arching her back until her toes curled. With a hoarse shout, he knotted his fingers in her hair and shuddered against her until finally he dropped to his side and pulled her to him.
Their bodies bound by sweat, tangled legs and a strange bond she couldn’t shake free, she knew traveling up that last flight of stairs was the least of their worries.
Nine
S ebastian lay in his own bed again for the first time in eight months. Wide awake. Not that he could have slept even if he didn’t need to wake up Marianna every two hours.
Waiting for the phone to ring with news about his brother was hell.He’d tried to distract himself by going downstairs and logging on to Marianna’s computer. He’d accessed his bank account, looking into different kinds of trust funds to set up for the baby. And sure, he’d spent much of that time trying to figure out a way he could persuade Marianna to quit her job and take things easy. Was it so wrong of him to want to care for her, especially on a night like this that brought to the fore how damn fragile life could be?
The gauzy stuff that twisted around the canopy railing swished with the gusts from the ceiling fan. They no doubt needed the cooling relief after their workout on the landing and again in bed.
He twined a lock of her hair around a finger, careful not to twist too tightly and risk waking her early. He checked the clock. 4:25 a.m. Another five minutes to go, and he didn’t intend to rouse her a second before.
He studied her face and how the soft puffs of breath between her lips feathered the strand of hair draped across her cheek. After so long apart, he welcomed the opportunity to look his fill. A pale shoulder peeked from beneath the sheet draping along her curves, and he resisted the urge to sweep it away.
What the hell had happened between them on the way to the bedroom? He’d wanted sex, along with a forgetfulness he’d always been able to find in her body in the past.
Their coming together had been anything but peaceful. She’d pinned him with her eyes, held him in some kind of intense moment that stoked his craving for her even as it made him want to back the hell away. She needed something more from him—she always had.
He would just have to keep her distracted with what they did well long enough for her to forget the parts they seemed destined to mess up. He glanced at the clock.
4:30 a.m. on the dot.
Sebastian peeled away the Egyptian cotton sheet inch by inch, kissing every revealed patch of her—her br**sts, her stomach, her hips—until she wriggled beneath him. Marianna stretched with a feline grace that almost had him sliding inside her again. Almost. He needed more time to haul his defenses into place around her before she ambushed him with another “make love” line.
He looked up the length of her body, his hand grazing down to tease behind her knee. “Are you awake?”
“I am now.” She smiled back at him with heavy-lidded arousal.
He brought his hand up and in front of her face. “How many fingers?”
“Three.”
“Perfect.”
She lightly stroked his jaw. “Has there been any word about Kyle?”
He turned to kiss her palm. “Nothing yet, but I’m going with the no news is good news philosophy.” Wanting distraction from a subject that frustrated him with how little he could do, he turned his attention to something he could fix. “How about a snack before morning sickness has a chance to kick in?”
Marianna studied him with concerned eyes for a second beyond his comfort level before she gave him the smile he needed.
“You’re a man after my own heart.” She sat up, clutching the blue-and-yellow-striped sheet to her chest. “I’m craving some of that raspberry chocolate peanut butter in the fiercest way.”
There she went with the heart talk again. He tamped down the twinge of unease and swung his feet off the bed. He retrieved his boxers while she wrapped the sheet around her body, toga style.
She grinned over her shoulder. “Last one to the kitchen has to feed the other one while nak*d.”
“Sounds like a win-win situation to me,” he called after her as she raced ahead of him.
He took his time following her, already looking forward to the pleasure of bringing food to her lips and watching near-ecstasy spread across her face. Even the computer room with its glowing screen couldn’t compete with what Marianna had to offer right now.
Once in the kitchen, he clicked on a single band of track lighting, illuminating the state-of-the-art cooking space. She’d taken the most time decorating here, a place to indulge her culinary prowess. Memories ambushed him.
Of her excitement over picking out the mammoth cooktop.
Of her on a ladder hanging pots from the rack attached to the ceiling.
Of their newborn daughter snoozing in a baby seat on the floor beside the table, Marianna rocking the tiny chair with her foot while chopping vegetables on the island.
Definitely different from his late-night snack in the dark office kitchenette. “Have a seat and prepare to be fed.”
She perched on a bar stool at the tiled island while he opened the stainless steel refrigerator. How long had it been since they’d indulged in a post-sex snack? He honestly couldn’t remember when. Any lightheartedness had left their relationship a long time ago.
He wondered now how he’d let that happen when Marianna’s uninhibited laugh was one of the things he enjoyed most about her. He could use some of her brightness tonight with the past dogging his heels and concern for Kyle kicking in his gut.