“I am. I never skip a dose.”
“And we used condoms.”
“I know. I still bought a pregnancy test.” She bit her lip. “I know the odds are pretty much impossible, but . . .”
“There’s always that slim hope.”
It was hope, Violet realized. She’d wanted a child to anchor Jonathan to her, to force him to come back into her life. But now that he was here, she still wanted a baby. She’d always wanted a family. More than independence, more than travel, more than a career, she’d wanted an honest-to-goodness family. That core unit of people that would love her unconditionally. That core unit of people she felt like she’d never had.
Until now. So she looked up at Jonathan and gave him a wobbling smile. “Shall we go pee on a stick together?”
“Well, I don’t know what mine will do, but if you want me to, I’m game.”
Violet beamed at him through her tears.
—
Ten minutes later, Violet sat on the bathroom counter, waiting for the results. She’d done the deed and then let Jonathan in so they could wait on the results together.
It wasn’t surprising to Violet that the test showed negative almost immediately. It had been too much to hope, really. “No baby,” she said softly, and dumped the stick in the trash. She must have been crazy to be disappointed, but she was. “It’s for the best.”
“Is it strange if I’m disappointed?” Jonathan asked, pulling her off the counter and into his arms.
“Not strange,” Violet said. She was oddly disappointed, too. The old, familiar worry returned. If there was no baby, then they didn’t really have to stay together, did they? He was free to go at any time.
“Get that thought out of your head,” Jonathan said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I can tell from the look on your face that you’re expecting me to run.”
She really was transparent, wasn’t she? “I didn’t say that.”
“No, but you were thinking it.” His mouth twitched in a smile. “Just because there’s not a baby now doesn’t mean there can’t be one in a year or two.”
Her skin prickled at his words; not fear, but anticipation and excitement. Just the thought of being two years down the road with Jonathan filled her with an intense sense of pleasure. “So what happens now?”
“We leave the bathroom?”
Violet rolled her eyes but pulled out of his arms and walked down the hall. She was heading for the living room of her condo when Jonathan tugged her hand, heading toward her bedroom instead.
Well, she didn’t have a problem with that. She let him pull her toward her bedroom, wincing when she spotted her unmade bed and the dirty clothes on the floor. “I’m not a great housekeeper.”
“I’ll get you one,” he told her, moving to sit on the side of her bed and pulling her down next to him.
“I don’t want you buying me a housekeeper,” she told him. “I’m a teacher.”
“Then you shall remain an impoverished teacher and I will take the housekeeper,” he told her, dragging her smaller form against his so he could nibble on her ear.
“Do you have a house here in Detroit?” It was difficult to concentrate with his tongue flicking against her ear. “I thought you lived in New York.”
“I fly in to Detroit a lot for business and live mostly in New York. I usually stay in a hotel when I’m in Detroit, but if you’re here, this is where I want to be, too.”
“But what about my teaching?”
“I wouldn’t ask you to give up your job for me.” He brushed her hair aside and kissed her neck, her cheek, everywhere he could kiss her. “I have a few private planes. I’ll just fly back and forth a lot more, provided you’ll fly with me occasionally. We’ll make it work.”
“I guess we will, won’t we?” There was that hope, beating a frantic pattern in her breast again.
“I do have meetings every Thursday night that I can’t miss, but if you don’t mind losing me one night a week, the rest of them are yours.”
“You’d relocate for me?” It sounded like he was going out of his way to convenience her. Her with the paltry job. He was a billionaire with an enormous company to run, and he was worried about inconveniencing her?
“Violet, you don’t seem to get it. I’d do anything for you.”
She turned to him and flung her arms around his neck. “I love you, Jonathan.”
He fell backward on her bed, his arms going around her waist as she fell onto his chest. His eyes were mysteriously shiny again. “You know I’m never going to get tired of hearing you say that?”
“I’m scared of being in love,” she admitted to him. “I’m afraid of putting myself out there and getting hurt.”
“The last thing I want is to hurt you,” he told her in a husky voice, gazing up at her with love.
“I’m starting to figure that out.” Her fingers brushed through his hair and she leaned down to kiss him, then pulled back again. “But it’s going to take me a while to get comfortable with things. I imagine I’m going to be difficult from time to time—”
“I like difficult.”
“And I’ll probably close you out when I get hurt or upset.”
“I’ll just have to push my way back in again.”
“And I’m a terrible slob.”
“It’s a good thing I’m getting that housekeeper.”
She laughed, feeling light and airy and wonderful. “I guess it is.”
“Just as long as you never leave me again,” Jonathan said, his fingers tightening on her waist. “I can put up with any difficult moments, any messy floors, anything you throw at me.”
“I won’t leave again. I promise,” she said, and traced a finger through the stubble on his jaw. “I do love you.”
“I love you more than anything in the world.”
She smiled and snuggled against his chest, pressing her cheek against his heart. She loved hearing that. She had a feeling she was going to constantly need to hear it just to believe it, but Jonathan was good about telling her.
His hand slid down her body, caressing her hip. “Can I say how glad I am you didn’t slam the door shut in my face?”
Her lips twitched with amusement. She felt so light, so wonderful, so utterly carefree at the moment. She loved him. She loved him, and he was all hers. For as many times as she wanted, for as long as she wanted. Violet felt a surge of possessive pleasure mixed with desire. Her hand moved down his front in a caress, gliding from his chest to his crotch. She felt him harden immediately under her hand. “You do seem glad. Nice and . . . glad.”
Jonathan groaned, his hands tightening against her. “You’re distracting me, aren’t you?”
“Is that bad?”
“Hell no. Distract me all you want.”
She couldn’t stop smiling; her hand caressed his cock through the fabric of his jeans thoughtfully. “Tell me a poem?”
“A poem?” he echoed, clearly distracted.
“Yes. Tell me something romantic.” She stroked her hand up and down his cock.
He was quiet for a long moment; as he thought, her fingers dragged over the outline of his cock, and she circled the head through the fabric, causing him to twitch underneath her. “Do you . . . like Rossetti?”
“I’m sure I will.”
“All right, then.” He sucked in a breath when she dragged her nails over the denim, and then began. “‘I loved you first: but afterward your love, outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song . . .’ something something.”
She giggled. “Something something?”
“I . . . can’t seem to think of the rest of it at the moment. I’m rather distracted.” His hand slid over her back, tugged at her bra clasp through the fabric of her top. “I think I’d remember more if we were naked.”
“Is that so?”
“It can’t hurt.”
“I’m willing to give it a try,” she teased, sitting up. She smiled down at him and pulled her blouse over her head, tossing it onto the floor. A moment later, her bra followed and she sat in front of him proudly, naked from the waist up.
Jonathan groaned and dragged her body back down against his, seeking her mouth in a kiss. “God, you’re beautiful. I am the luckiest man alive.”
She smiled down at him. She was the one feeling lucky. This wonderful, smart, gorgeous man loved her. Loved her ridiculously. Loved her even when she was being impractical and frightened. So she kissed him fiercely, trying to show him all the love that she was brimming with at the moment. Her tongue brushed against his lips, and then she pulled back. “How’s that memory coming?”
He reached up and brushed his fingers over the tip of her breast. “Give me a minute. I’m sure it’ll all come back to me.”
“Oh, take your time,” she murmured, arching into his touch. His other hand teased her nipple as well, and she tilted her head back, sighing with pleasure. “I’m in no rush.”
“So you wouldn’t mind if I did this to you all day?”
Goose bumps prickled her skin at the thought of just lying back and languidly letting Jonathan tease her with small touches all day long. “I can’t say I’d mind, no.”
“Mmm. I think parts of me would go crazy before too long, though.” He sat up and dragged her against him. His face pressed against her cleavage and then he was nuzzling her breasts, kissing the soft skin. The unshaven whiskers on his face tickled and dragged at her flesh, sending a bevy of sensations through her. He tuned in to her shivers, biting and licking gently at her. “I love your breasts.” He cupped one and lifted it to his mouth, dragging her nipple across his full lips.
“Are they your favorite part?”
“No, your brain is,” he said, and she melted all over again. “But they’re one of the tastiest parts.”
She giggled at that. “It’s good to know that I’m tasty, at least.”
“The tastiest,” he agreed.
“This is all to distract me from the fact that you don’t know any other poetry, isn’t it?”
He laughed, his breath fanning against her skin. “Not at all. This is so I can suck on these beauties for a while.” His thumb teased one nipple before he popped it back into his mouth and began to flick it with his tongue.
Violet moaned, heat pooling between her legs, her pulse pounding a sensual beat in her body. He always made her feel so good, so sexy. It didn’t matter that her breasts weren’t as perky as they were ten years ago, and her hips wider. He made her feel like the most beautiful woman on earth. And maybe in his eyes, she was.
“I’m remembering another line now,” he murmured even as his tongue circled the tip of her breast. “This is definitely helping.”
“Mmm, keep going then. I’m glad I could be of help.” Her fingers dragged through his hair lazily, brushing along his jaw, the stubble, any tactile experience she could derive from him. She could touch him all day and never get bored.
“‘Rich love knows nought of thine that is not mine. Both have the strength and both the length thereof, both of us, of the love which makes us one.’”
“That’s beautiful,” she told him softly, and for a moment, crushed him to her chest as if she could somehow drag him against her and give him some of the love that was pouring out of her heart. She was terrified, but she was on cloud nine nevertheless. For some reason, now that she’d accepted Jonathan’s love, she knew he’d never hurt her again. It went against everything he was.
“It’s true,” he told her, and looked up into her eyes with his own intense, solemn gaze. “‘The love which makes us one.’ When I’m with you, I feel whole again.”
“Me, too.” Violet tilted his face so she could kiss him, and he rolled them backward onto the bed. She lay on top of him for a moment, the kissing continuing, and then he rolled them both once more until Violet was under him, and he was on top of her.
“I want to see you naked, love. I want to put my mouth on all of you.” His kisses moved from her mouth, to her jaw, then down to her breasts. All the while, his hand tugged and pulled at her skirt.
She wriggled under him, drowning in his touch. She wanted his mouth all over her, and just the thought of his lips delving into her pussy sent her moaning. She guided his hand to the zipper at her hip, and he began to slowly pull it down. It stopped halfway, stuck, and he swore an oath and ripped it the rest of the way down.
She didn’t even care. “I want your mouth on me, Jonathan. Now. Please.”
He bit the tip of her nipple in response, and she nearly came off the bed at the sweet shock of pleasure mixed with the hint of pain. “Patience. I’m still unwrapping my present.”
“Unwrap faster,” she told him, raising her hips wantonly. “I need you.”
“We have all the time in the world, love.” His tongue licked slowly at her nipple, soothing away the small bite he’d given it.
“But I ache for you,” she told him in a low, pleading voice. “I’ve been dreaming about you, you know. Every night.”
He groaned and buried his face against her gently rounded stomach, giving her skirt another tug. “Have you?”
“I have.”
“I was a little afraid I was the only one still madly obsessed once you left me. I kept thinking that you just wouldn’t care.”
“That’s not true,” she said in a soft voice, sucking in when his tongue dipped against her belly button. She’d had no idea she was ticklish there, but his tongue was making her want to squirm and writhe with every licking caress. “I dreamed of you every night.”
“Dirty dreams?”
“Very dirty,” she told him. “Erotic, sweaty, blissful dreams.”
“Mmm, tell me more.”
She didn’t remember much of them. All she knew was that she had his face in her mind, his body pressed against hers, and when she woke up, her panties were wet and she was aching with unfulfilled need. “They’re never as good as the real you, but I woke up every day and ached for you.”
His fingers slid under her skirt, still hitched around her hips, and cupped her mound through the silk of her panties. “Did you ache here?”
She moaned. “Yes.”
One finger pushed against her slit, dragging against it through the now-wet fabric. “Is all this wetness for me?”
Violet spread her legs wider, encouraging him. “Oh, Jonathan, that feels so good.”
“How good?” He continued to rub, pushing down against her flesh like she was a sculpture he was molding under his fingers.
“D-decadent,” she panted, making a mewing sound every time his fingertips dragged over her clit.
“Mmm, I like that word. I do think decadent makes me think of sweet, delicious things. And are you sweet and delicious, Violet?”
“Why not taste me and find out?” she asked breathlessly, raising a knee until she was sprawled wide open against him, her open legs beckoning.
“Oh, I will. I’m just saving my dessert for a little while longer.” His hand lifted from between her legs and he raised it to his mouth, licking his fingers. She watched as his eyes closed in delight. “God, you taste good.”
“Still savoring?” Her hips rolled uselessly against the sheets at the hot look in his eyes. “Or is that just an excuse because you can’t get my skirt off?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “I admit nothing.”
Violet grinned and slid her hand to her skirt, working it down her hips with a bit of creative wiggling. Why, oh why, had she chosen to wear such a tight, inflexible fabric this morning? Sure it looked good on, but it was hell to take off. When she had the skirt down to her knees, though, he grabbed the material and hauled it off her legs, flinging it to the ground. She was left in nothing but her silky pink pan
ties, the crotch damp from excitement, and he gazed down at her, studying her. Automatically she parted her knees and presented herself to him, waiting for more.
To her surprise, he put his palm on her stomach, just below her belly button, and gave her a thoughtful look. “Have you . . . thought about the future much?”
She sucked in a breath, suddenly flattened. “You mean, a baby?”
He nodded, his hand caressing her skin.
Oh, wow. Blinking back sudden tears, Violet forced a small shrug to her shoulders. “Earlier I did, of course. Now . . . I don’t know.”
“I think I’d like to see you carrying my child,” he said in a soft voice, and leaned down to kiss her stomach again. “Maybe not right away. We still need time for us. But maybe in a few years.”
Violet nodded, overcome. “I’d love that,” she said, aching. It wouldn’t replace the baby she’d lost—that unnamed child would always hold a special place in her heart—but they could start a family. Start fresh. Try again.
She loved the thought of that. Her hand went to his hair and she brushed it off his forehead with a loving touch. “Maybe we skip the condoms tonight, then.”
Jonathan looked up at her in surprise. “Are you still on the pill?”
“I am. One step at a time. No baby yet, but . . . I want to feel all of you inside me.” She wanted that bond that having his flesh against hers would bring them. The intimacy of knowing that nothing separated them from each other, that they’d made this commitment to each other’s bodies.
“All right,” Jonathan said softly, and his hand slid down to her panties again. This time, he pushed his fingers under the band and sought out her flesh underneath the fabric. “But I want your hands all over me, Violet. I want to feel every ounce of your skin against my own for every moment.”
“I can do that,” she told him in a low, sweet voice. “It’d be my pleasure.” Her hand went to his cheek and she cupped his face as he placed his hand over her mound. He wanted her to touch him? She’d like nothing better. Her fingers trailed down his neck and over one muscular shoulder even as she felt his fingers push between the slick lips of her pussy, seeking out her deepest warmth.