Edward lifted a dark eyebrow. “Be gentle with me,” he said mockingly. Closing his eyes, he propped his chin on his folded arms and waited for me to touch him.
Touch him.
I looked down at my hands, which felt suddenly tingly. I knew how to give a professional massage. Why were my hands shaking? I didn't feel like a competent physical therapist. I felt like what he'd once called me—a frightened virgin.
Edward St. Cyr, my boss, who'd inspired me and irritated me in equal measure, who was way out of my league and didn't see me as anything more than someone he could casually flirt with, perhaps casually sleep with and casually forget, was naked beneath my hands. And I feared if I showed a moment of weakness he might roll over and devour me.
If he felt my hands shaking … All he had to do was turn around on the table and pull me down hard against him in a savage kiss.
Don't think about it, I told myself fiercely.
Flexing my fingers, I poured oil in one palm, then rubbed my hands together to warm them. Slowly, I lowered them to his skin.
As I ran my hands down the trapezius muscles of his upper back I tried to calm the rapid beat of my heart. But as I stroked and rubbed Edward beneath my palms I felt hot as summer. I closed my eyes, trying not to imagine what it would be like if he were my lover. How it would feel to sink into the pleasure I imagined he'd give me.
Afterward my soul might be ash, but I'd finally know the exhilaration of the fire.
JENNIE LUCAS grew up dreaming about faraway lands. At fifteen, hungry for experience beyond the borders of her small Idaho city, she went to a Connecticut boarding school on scholarship. She took her first solo trip to Europe at sixteen, then put off college and travelled around the US, supporting herself with jobs as diverse as gas station cashier and newspaper advertising assistant.
At twenty-two she met the man who would be her husband. After their marriage she graduated from Kent State with a degree in English. Seven years after she started writing she got the magical call from London that turned her into a published author.
Since then life has been hectic, with a new writing career, a sexy husband and two small children, but she's having a wonderful (albeit sleepless) time. She loves immersing herself in dramatic, glamorous, passionate stories. Maybe she can't physically travel to Morocco or Spain right now, but for a few hours a day, while her children are sleeping, she can be there in her books.
Jennie loves to hear from her readers. You can visit her website at www.jennielucas.com, or drop her a note at [email protected]
Nine Months to Redeem Him
Jennie Lucas
MILLS & BOON
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To Krystyn Gardner, my friend since childhood, maid of honor at my wedding—the bold, fearless soul who moved halfway round the world and convinced me to meet her there. Thanks, you crazy girl, for blazing a trail, and for always being in my corner.
Contents
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
EXTRACT
THIS IS ALL I can give you, he said. No marriage. No children. All I can offer is—this. And he kissed me, feather-light, until I was holding my breath, trembling in his arms. Do you agree?
Yes, I whispered, my lips brushing against his. I hardly knew what I was saying. Hardly thought about the promise I was making and what it might cost me. I was too lost in the moment, lost in pleasure that made the world a million colors of twisting light.
Now, two months later, I'd just gotten news that changed everything.
As I went up the sweeping stairs of his London mansion, my heart was in my throat. A baby. I gripped the oak handrail as my shaking steps echoed down the hall. A baby. A little boy with Edward's eyes? An adorable little girl with his smile? Thinking of the sweet, precious baby soon to be nestled in my arms, a dazed smile lifted to my lips.
Then I remembered my promise.
My hands tightened. Would he think I'd somehow gotten pregnant on purpose? Tricking him into becoming a father against his will?
No. He wouldn't. Couldn't.
Could he?
The upstairs hallway was cold and dark. Just like Edward's heart. Because beneath his sensual charm, his soul was ice. I'd always known this, no matter how hard I'd tried not to know it.
I'd given him my body, which he wanted, and my heart, which he hadn't. Had I made the biggest mistake of my life?
Maybe he could change. I took a deep breath. If I could only believe that, once he knew about the baby, he might change—that he might someday love us both …
Reaching our bedroom, I slowly pushed open the door.
“You've kept me waiting,” Edward's voice was dangerous, coming from the shadows. “Come