His Nine Month Seduction Read online

  He was rewarded with the sound of her gasping and her fingers knotting in her hair and he knew what she needed. He lifted his mouth higher, dragging it along the soft, creamy flesh of her thigh towards the apex of curls at the top of her legs. His tongue slid across her skin and her knees buckled, so that she would have crumpled if his fingers hadn’t dug into her hips holding her steady. He held her as he kissed her, as his tongue found her sensitive cluster of nerves and tormented them, flicking against them, lashing them with promises of a pleasure he intended to deliver over and over and over again.

  His own need to possess her was pushed deeper inside of him, because pleasuring her was making his whole soul float. The keening noises escaping from her throat were drums, beating hard and fast. He felt her tense and she cried out louder; he didn’t stop. He held her closer, so that his whole mouth could find her sweet sensitivities and he tormented them until she was quivering against him, her skin covered in a fine sheen of moisture.

  Her fingers pulled at his hair and he smiled, stepping far enough away to see her. Her cheeks were flushed pink but there was a look of embarrassment in her face and he ached to wipe it away.

  And knew of only one way to do that.

  He pushed his boxers away, discarding them quickly, and then made a motion with his finger, indicating that she should step down and join him. The shyness lingered in her eyes even as she did as he said, gracefully planting her feet on the ground and stepping forward, until their bodies were almost touching.

  “You drive me crazy,” he said thickly, pushing himself forward so that proof of his need was hard against her. “You know that?”

  She nodded, but her eyes were huge and he kissed her then, showing her how badly he wanted her. She pressed her body to his, almost gluing it against him, and then, she pulled him, her hands on his hips creating a cascade of motion that saw them tumbling onto the bed, all limbs and desire. He fell on top of her but she pushed up, rolling them, so that he was on his back and she was straddling him.

  “You remember this?” She asked, and there was a look of intensity in her face that spoke of her need. Her need for him, yes, but for the memories to return, more so. And if they were lost forever, to recreate them. “You loved this.” She dipped her head lower, kissing the dip in his throat, pressing her tongue to his pulse point then dragging her mouth lower, tasting his hair-roughened chest, the saltiness of perspiration that rolled her gut.

  “I love everything about this,” he said seriously.

  “Especially this?” And she sat higher before bringing herself down, taking him deep inside her heart, welcoming him with a low, guttural groan. It was as primal as he remembered, and better than anything he’d ever known.

  “Especially this,” he threw his head back, grabbing her hips and holding her hard against him, keeping himself deep inside of her, so deep he was squeezed by all her muscles as she remembered his length and girth.

  The world shifted.

  Everything moved.

  Heaven, hell. The oceans. Gravity. The very core of existence was blown away.

  Theo felt it and he damned well knew Imogen did too. And recognition of just how right this was gave way to a sort of impossible rage. How had ever walked away from her? From this? And how had she let him?

  He wouldn’t think about that. He pushed up on his elbows, then to a seated position, thrusting deeper into her, running his fingers through her hair, tangling in its lengths and pulling her head backward so that he could kiss all of her as he moved. He took her nipples in his mouth and he kissed higher, to her neck, her throat, chasing her earlobe with his tongue until finally his mouth found hers and he thrust his tongue into her as his body moved, possessing her as surely he ever had, and his fingers held her head still, as her feet dug into the bed beside him and she groaned. The sound was addictive. Everything about her was addictive.

  And he was very willing to admit he was addicted.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  IT WAS THE WORST possible timing, but all Theo could think about was Imogen. Her legs. Her smile. Her laugh. God, her laugh.

  “You can’t be serious.” The woman across from him pouted, her perfect lips bright red, her finger nails a deathly black. Her lashes were long, naturally so, and curled towards her brows. She was beautiful, but Theo felt only impatience to get this conversation over with and be home.

  Imogen had been asleep when he’d left that morning, her hair a golden skein across the white pillow, her eyes fluttering madly in her sleep. He’d hoped she was dreaming of him. He’d pressed a kiss against her forehead and she’d smiled, and he’d known she would awaken without regrets.

  But to make sure of that, he did what he should have done the first time they’d made love. He left a note on his pillow.

  You are perfection. I’ll meet you at the appointment.

  “I mean, I can’t imagine why Elena would make such a thing up but surely it can’t be true?”

  “Why not?” he couldn’t help but ask. “Did you think I’d be pining away for you after our divorce? Lonely and miserable?”

  Her face blanched but he refused to care. Marie had destroyed every last shred of love he’d ever felt for her. Even sitting opposite her in a restaurant was something he could barely bring himself to do. And yet he did it now, purely to absolve his conscience. As if he ought to have any, where this woman was concerned!

  Marie’s eyes narrowed with obvious disdain. “On the contrary, I can believe a lot of women would line up for a chance to get a slice of your family’s name and fortune. I just thought you knew better than to be suckered in by some kind of money-grabbing cow.”

  His smile was involuntary, but the description of Imogen was so wrong it was almost comical. “I was suckered in by you, though I suppose your motives weren’t financial.”

  She sucked in a breath and he hated that he took pleasure in her surprise. It was beneath him, but God, this woman made his skin crawl. How had he ever thought he loved her? Why had he married her?

  “I loved you. Those were my motives.”

  “Bullshit.” He leaned closer, his eyes sparking furiously with hers. “And I’m done talking about us. In case you needed any clearer proof: we’re finished. Over.”

  “So now you’re all happy families with this … woman?”

  “Imogen,” he said, again, the smile tickling his lips without his awareness.

  “Are you in love with her?”

  The words were strange. Unusual. He hadn’t thought of Imogen in that way; he supposed because everything had happened so quickly.

  “I’m committed to raising our child together,” he said softly, the words holding a tension and danger that Marie ignored.

  “That’s a no, then.”

  “It’s a ‘none of your business’,” he corrected silkily. “Whatever I’m doing in my life no longer concerns you. I’ve moved on, and you should too.”

  “I hate to see you falling into this trap. You’re making a fool of yourself, all for a woman you hardly know.”

  “I do know her,” he said, the words a sharp caution. “And I know she would never be capable of your sort of crap. After you, she’s a breath of fresh air, believe me.”

  The glass of wine was full and when it crashed over his face, he experienced a moment of surprise before releasing a sharp laugh. “That’s perfect.” He stood, wiping his face with a paper towel then tossing a handful of bank notes onto the table. “Look after yourself, Marie.”

  He was at the door when she caught him, her hand grabbing his shoulder and slowing his progress. “Wait.” He froze, but his own temper was fuming.

  “What for? I can’t see that anything’s served by me staying, can you?”

  “I was angry,” she said softly, swallowing. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Look.” He thrust his hands into his pockets and looked around the restaurant, conscious of the stares they were drawing. Next would follow the ubiquitous cell-phones. “Come here.” He tucked a han
d under her elbow and drew her onto the street. She walked easily beside him, her height almost equal to his. It was a warm night, and people were everywhere, but somehow the street afforded an anonymity not offered by the restaurant.

  “I hate the thought of you being with someone else,” she said after a moment, the words anguished.

  “Why?” His response was cold, not borne of bitterness so much as a lack of compassion. “You had me. We were married. You’re the one who ruined that.”

  “I didn’t realize until you left.” She shook her head from side to side, her hair loose around her face.

  “What else could I have done?” He tilted his head to hers, his eyes flashing with anger and resentment.

  “You married me, for better or for worse.”

  “I don’t know who I married,” and the words throbbed with his anger. “You lied to me, Marie. You lied to me about everything. I can’t forgive you for that.”

  A single tear escaped her eye, rolling slowly down her cheek. “But you still love me.”

  Guilt flooded him. Guilt over the demise of what they’d been, and what they’d lost. Something special and irreplaceable. “We’re over,” he said softly.

  “Please, Theo, let me…”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” he interrupted stonily. “You made your bed and you’ll have to lie in it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s somewhere I have to be.”

  *

  “That’s so cold.”

  Theo squeezed Imogen’s hand as she reacted to the sensation of the ultrasound gel with a low laugh. The ultrasound tech was, perhaps, completely devoid of personality. He impersonated a brief smile and waved the wand over Imogen’s stomach, his eyes focused on the screen.

  It boasted a grainy black and white image, but it was just that – grainy. No clarity, no obvious baby swimming around in there. Imogen stared at it, and, when the technician didn’t say anything, she leaned forward. “What is it? Is everything okay?”

  His eyes flicked towards them and he nodded. “I’m just feeling my way around.” He pressed the wand harder against her abdomen, and a small frown sat on his face.

  “What is it?” Theo could tell something was wrong too and that both instantly terrified and reassured Imogen. If Theo was worried, then it was bad. But he was also right there with her, and he could fix it. He could fix anything.

  The technician didn’t respond immediately and Imogen squeezed Theo’s hand tighter, trying to take strength from him, needing comfort and not knowing how to ask for it. He lifted it and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, his smile kind. “I’m sure it just takes a moment,” he said gently, but when his eyes lifted to the technician’s they were loaded with impatience. “Right?”

  “Right.” The technician nodded and now his smile was relaxed as he spun the screen for them to see. “Everything’s looking good. You’re around fifteen weeks along,” he said moving the wand, pressing it harder so Imogen winced a little. But what was pain when the tiny little image of her child was on a screen in front of her. She squeezed Theo’s hand again and this time, he squeezed it back.

  “Fifteen weeks and three days,” she grinned, unable to pull her eyes from the screen.

  “That’s about right.” The technician moved his hand to the keyboard and pressed a few buttons, clicked something round and then returned to the scan.

  He studied the images for several minutes longer, occasionally nodding and humming and it wasn’t until Theo lifted a finger to Imogen’s cheek that she realized she was silently crying, tears streaming from her eyes as she looked at the screen and tried to make out the significance of what she was seeing.

  “So, this is the baby,” the technician offered after a few more moments.

  “Where is it?” Imogen responded, her eyes darting across the screen, a frown on her face.

  “Here. See the curve of the back, the head is here. The cord. You’ll have another scan in five to six weeks and we’ll be able to make out more detail then. Organs, gender, that kind of thing. But all you need to know now is that you have all the indications of a normal pregnancy at this stage.”

  Imogen nodded, but it still felt so incredibly surreal. “Would you like to hear the heartbeat?”

  She made a garbled sound that could have been a ‘yes’ or a ‘oh, yes, yes!” and Theo laughed softly.

  “Please.”

  Imogen held her breath but then, as clear as day, came the rhythmic thud thud thud of a baby’s heart. Theo squeezed her hand and when she looked up at him he had the most beautiful, awe-struck expression on his handsome face. He was all-man, powerful, successful, and totally brought to his knees by the emotion of that moment.

  “It’s beautiful,” he said, his words thick.

  And it undid her. Imogen sobbed freely now. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “Well, it is,” the technician broke in, handing a few pieces of paper to Imogen. Photographs. She stared at them in total wonderment, barely registering as he toweled her stomach dry. “You can get dressed again. I’ll send the results to your Obstetrician and she’ll be in touch.”

  “Thank you.” He nodded, still barely smiling, and strode from the room.

  “Oh, God, baby,” Theo reached down and kissed Imogen hard, his fingers splayed on either side of her face as he held her close. He pressed his forehead to hers and smiled, his eyes suspiciously moist. “This is crazy.”

  “Good crazy,” she agreed.

  “The best.” He laughed and then he scooped her up, holding her to his chest in the tightest hug Imogen had ever known.

  And she hugged him right back.

  “Would you like to go out and celebrate?”

  Imogen thought about it for almost a second before shaking her head. “If it’s all the same with you, I think I’d rather stay in and celebrate.”

  Theo lifted his head apart just enough to meet her eyes and the look of complete need there undid him. “Yeah.” A gruff acknowledgement. “Let’s go home.”

  His Aston Martin was just outside the clinic, parked on double yellow lines, a fact which brought a small smile to Imogen’s face. “How did I know you’d be that kind of guy?”

  “What kind of guy is that?” He held the passenger door open for her and she paused in the triangle created by his body.

  “The kind of jerk who parks illegally.”

  “Or am I the kind of conscientious father-to-be who would never dream of being late for a medical appointment?” He wiggled his thick brows and she grinned.

  “I guess you can be both.” She conceded, sitting down into the comfortable leather seat, fumbling the photographs out of the crisp white envelope and staring at the picture of their baby with a heart that was already full to bursting.

  When Theo took the seat beside her and revved the car, she angled her body a little, so that she could study him. “Hey?”

  He paused, midway through maneuvering the car away from the pavement.

  “Hey?” He responded, prompting her to continue.

  “Are you going to tell me why you smell like you got in a fight, and lost, with a case of wine?”

  He made a guttural sound which could have been amusement or simply acknowledgement. “I’m not sure I want to ruin the moment.”

  Imogen paused, her spidey-senses tingling with apprehension. “What? What happened?”

  “Marie.” He winced, sending Imogen a look of bemusement. “She heard about our situation.”

  “Oh.” His ex-wife. “She was upset?”

  “She has no reason to be upset.” His fingers gripped the wheel tight, and then he forced a smile to his face. “She didn’t want kids. I did. It was a deal-breaker.”

  “I thought you said you were trying for a baby?”

  His smile was tight, but everything about him was determined to shut the conversation down.

  “She didn’t want children,” he said again, more firmly, yet still quietly, so that she had to strain to catch his words.

 
Alarm bells screeched inside Imogen. “That’s why you left her?”

  “Our marriage ended for many reasons, but yes. It played a part.”

  “And now I’m pregnant,” she said with a small shake of her head. “You must feel so conflicted.”

  “Must I?” His eyes skimmed over hers. “Why is that?”

  “Just … to have everything you want but with the wrong person.”

  “That’s not how I see it.” He reached over and squeezed Imogen’s leg. “Not how I see it at all.”

  “Really? She apparently disagrees, if your eau de pinot gris is anything to go by.”

  “I believe it was Sancerre, actually.” He grinned but Imogen’s face was taut and he immediately sought to assuage her worries. “You don’t need to feel threatened by Marie. Our marriage is over. And for good reason.” He laced his fingers through hers and lifted her hand to his lips, kissing them gently. “And I’m over the moon we’re having this baby together.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “RAPUNZEL,” HE HAZARDED, earning another shake of Imogen’s head.

  “No! Awful! I hope it’s not a girl, with the names you’re coming up with. Besides, if it’s anything like I was, it won’t have hair for at least three years so that’s just being unnecessarily cruel, really.”

  He smirked, reaching for another piece of pizza. “You would have been a cute, bald little kid though.”

  She grinned, nudging him with her shoulder.

  “Esmerelda.”

  “Did you get this baby name book from the Hans Christen Anderson universe?” Imogen giggled.

  “I swear, they’re in here.” He held the book up for a second, flashing the black and white page to her, before dropping it back into his lap.

  She reached for it but he laughed, holding it higher. “I’m telling you, these are real names.”