Forbidden Passion. Emilie Rose
riser pressed her heels. When he urged her to sit she let her weak knees fold. The roughness of carpeted stair runner abraded her tender skin. Sawyer whisked her panties over her ankles, knelt between her knees and reached for his belt buckle. Her insides combusted and her heart jumped to her throat. She dug her nails into the carpet and struggled for sanity.
A fragment of her mind acknowledged what was going to happen if she didn’t put an end to this madness. She should stop him, but her body tingled with awareness, and her pulse and the juncture of her thighs throbbed with life for the first time in years. She felt like a woman instead of a block of wood. She remained mute.
Rather than shove Sawyer away, she reached for him, helping him push his trousers over his lean hips, and then she burrowed her fingers beneath the hem of his shirt and clasped the supple skin at his waist. His body heat scorched her palms. Her pulse raced faster, and she gulped one lungful of air after another.
His breath whistled through clenched teeth, and his hands tightened on her thighs, easing them farther apart. He urged her back against the carpeted stairs and consumed her mouth with hot, intoxicating, sanity-robbing thoroughness. The thick head of his erection parted her folds, finding her wetness, and then he thrust deep. Air gushed from her lungs at the feeling of fullness.
It didn’t hurt, a surprised voice echoed in her head before the brush of his thumb at the juncture of their bodies chased all rational thought from her mind. He thrust deep and stroked her, suckled her neck and caressed her bottom, pushing and chasing her on an uphill climb until she reached the top and tumbled over in a freefall of unfamiliar sensation.
Surprised, she dug her nails into the firm muscles of his buttocks as her body clenched around his in involuntary spasms. His teeth scraped against her collarbone, and then he groaned her name against her pounding pulse point.
Sawyer lunged and withdrew again and again. Twining her arms around him, Lynn held him tight and let the tide of sensation sweep her away. Her loosened muscles gave way and her thighs spread wider, allowing Sawyer to rock deeper inside her—deep enough to reach the portions of her soul that she’d hidden away. Cradling her face in his hands, he slammed his lips against hers, devouring her mouth and tangling tongues like a starving man. A responding hunger rekindled within her. He shifted the angle of his hips, creating a new friction against the sensitive flesh he’d plied so skillfully, and Lynn found herself climbing again. She arched to meet his thrusts. Sawyer shuddered and shivered, pulsing deep inside her core, and she tumbled over the precipice again.
He collapsed against her, sandwiching her body between the scorching heat of his and the hardness of the staircase. Their labored breaths echoed in the two-story foyer. Floating on a haze of satiation, she pressed her lips to his throat and tasted the salty tang of his skin. His chest hair tickled her lips, tantalized her cheek.
She laid a hand over Sawyer’s pounding heart and struggled for comprehension. What had just happened? And why now with Sawyer? Every cell in her body pulsed with life. Her heart thundered, and the numbness she’d known for years had vanished. Brett’s lovemaking—if you could call it that—had never moved her the way Sawyer’s desperate coupling had. Even in the midst of madness, Sawyer had ensured her pleasure, but even before her body cooled, regrets forced themselves forward.
Dear heavens, what had she done?
Sweat dampened Sawyer’s skin, adhering his shirt to his back. His heart hammered and he panted for breath.
Lynn shoved at his chest. The combination of panic and regret in her sky-blue eyes knotted his stomach, and then she looked at her wedding band, tightly closed her eyes and tucked her softly rounded chin to her chest.
What had he done? Regret hit him like a dagger in the heart. How could he have taken advantage of his brother’s grieving widow? Stone-cold sober, he staggered to his feet, but his legs quivered beneath him as unsteady as a newborn colt’s. Ashamed of his loss of control, he yanked up his pants and shoved in his shirt-tails. In his haste he nearly maimed himself with his zipper. He swore, and she flinched, biting her plump bottom lip until he expected to see blood. Her posture grew tenser by the second.
“I’m sorry, Lynn. That shouldn’t have happened.” He sounded as if he’d swallowed a bucket of rocks, but it was a miracle he got any words past the knot in his throat.
Looking everywhere but at him, she struggled to her feet and batted the hem of her dress over her long legs. She finger combed the tangles from her mussed golden hair with trembling hands.
He fisted his hands on the urge to help tame her silky tresses, and followed her horrified gaze to the black panties on the white marble floor by the front door. Self-disgust crawled over his skin. He’d lost control, yanked her skirt above her waist and taken her like some damned frat boy. Hell, they were both fully dressed except for her panties.
Ass. Idiot. What were you thinking?
“It’s okay, Sawyer. We were both hurting and wanted—needed—to forget for a moment. It won’t happen again.” The tightness of her voice and the pallor of her creamy skin belied her casual words.
“You want to forget what just happened?” Impossible. How could he forget the silkiness of her skin beneath his palms, the sweet taste of her mouth or the satiny, wet folds that had surrounded him?
“Yes, please.” Her whispered plea destroyed him.
“Unless you’re on the pill, forgetting might not be an option. I didn’t use protection. I’m sorry. If it’s any consolation, I’ve never been careless before.”
She closed her eyes and swallowed visibly. Her thin black dress molded every tantalizing curve of her body, making the rise and fall of her breasts on shaky breaths hard to miss.
Get with the program, Riggan. She’s your brother’s wife. “Lynn, are you taking contraceptives?”
She mashed the bow of her lips into a flat line. Her chin quivered. “I’m tired. Would you excuse me?”
His gut knotted, and sweat beaded on his upper lip. “Lynn?”
Her finely arched brows dipped, and her eyes clouded. “I can’t tell you what you want to hear. I’m not taking contraceptives and the timing…the timing isn’t the best.”
Hell. He caught her by her upper arms. “What are you saying? You could get pregnant now? How can you be sure?”
Every vestige of color faded from her delicate features, accentuating the dark circles under her eyes. A fine tremor worked its way through her body. The urge to pull her closer made him tighten his fingers before common sense rallied. Comforting her, taking comfort in her, had already gotten him into a world of trouble. He’d crossed the line. Releasing her, he shoved his fists into his pockets and stepped back.
She lifted a trembling hand to cover the pulse leaping at the base of her throat. Her other hand spread over her flat belly, where even now their cells could be merging to create a new life. He couldn’t even begin to put a name to the emotions the knowledge stirred inside him, and fighting the need to lay his hand over hers took everything he had.
“Brett and I were trying to start a family and we…” She ducked her chin. A rush of pink swept her high cheekbones before the curtain of her hair swept forward to conceal her features. “The day he died was the beginning of my fertile cycle.”
His belly bottomed out. Could this day get any worse? He’d buried his baby brother, made love to his brother’s wife and may have impregnated a woman he should be protecting, not hurting. And then her words sank in. She and Brett had been trying to make a baby. Brett had been the only family he had left, and his brother’s seed might already be growing inside Lynn’s womb. Sawyer clutched the link to Brett like a lifeline.
He might be an uncle.
Or a father. He swallowed the lump in his throat and struggled to breathe despite the constriction of his chest muscles. The first would be a blessing, the second a curse on his soul for taking what wasn’t his and yet, he liked the idea of Lynn having his baby. The possibility tied his insides into knots—knots