She would be alone again. But this time, it would be so much worse. Because this time, she would know exactly what she was missing.
“Tula,” Simon whispered, drawing her back from thoughts that were threatening to drown her in misery. He tipped her face up until their gazes were locked, his searching, hers glittering with a sheen of tears she refused to shed for the death of a dream that should never have been born.
So very foolish, she thought now, looking up at Simon Bradley. Until this very moment, Tula hadn’t had any idea that she was more than halfway in love with a man she would never have.
“What is it?” he demanded. “Are you crying?”
“No,” she said quickly because she couldn’t let him know that she had just said goodbye to a fantasy of her own making. “Of course not.”
He accepted her word for that as his thumbs traced over her cheekbones.
“Come to my room with me, Tula,” he said softly, his voice an erotic invitation she knew she couldn’t resist. More, she knew she didn’t want to resist it. She’d let the fantasy go but she would be a fool to turn her back on the reality, however brief it might be.
Reaching up, she covered his hands with her own and gave him the answer they both needed. “Yes, Simon. I’ll come with you. I want you, too. Very much.”
“Thank God.” He bent and kissed her, hard and fast.
“Just let me turn the monitor on first,” she said, walking back into the nursery, shooting a quick look at the baby as he sighed and smiled through his dreams. She flipped the switch on the monitor, knowing the receivers in hers and Simon’s rooms would pick up every breath the baby made during the night.
She stared down at Nathan for a long moment, then turned her gaze on the doorway. There Simon stood, dark eyes burning with a fire that thrummed inside her just as hotly. Her body ached, her core went damp with need. She moved toward him and as she stepped into the hallway, he pulled her in close, then swung her up into his arms.
“I can walk, you know,” she said wryly, the last of her sorrow draining away against a tide of rising passion. In spite of her protest, she secretly delighted in being carried against his hard, strong body.
“But why walk when you can ride?” One of his eyebrows lifted into the arch that she knew so well and she had to admit that being snuggled against Simon’s broad chest was much preferable to a long walk down a silent hall.
The house sighed like a tired old woman settling down for a good night’s rest. The creaks and groans of the wood were familiar to her now and Tula felt as though she were wrapped in warmth.
Warmth that suddenly enveloped her in heat as Simon dipped his head to claim another brief, fierce kiss. When he broke the kiss, his dark eyes were flashing with something that sent a quick chill racing along Tula’s spine. Passion and just a hint of something more dangerous shone down at her and Tula’s stomach erupted with a swarm of what felt like bees.
Head spinning, heart pounding, she linked her arms around his neck as he strode into his bedroom and headed for the wide, quilt-covered bed. She had never been in his room before and she glanced around at the huge space. Wildly masculine, the room was done in brown and dark blue. Deep brown leather chairs were drawn up in front of a blazing tiled fireplace. Twin bay windows overlooked the street, the park beyond and the distant ocean. The bed was big enough, she thought wryly, to sleep four comfortably and moonlight poured through the windows to lay in a silver path along the mattress. As if someone, somewhere, had drawn them a road map to where they both wanted to go.
“Gotta have you. Now,” he muttered thickly, dropping her to the bed and following after.
“Yes, Simon,” she answered, reaching for the buttons on his shirt, tearing at them when they refused to give.
Simon was half-crazed with wanting her. Everything he had planned to say to her tonight dried up in the face of the overwhelming need clutching at him. Pulling at the hem of her bloodred sweater, he dragged it up and over her head to display the silky pink camisole she wore beneath. His gaze locked on her pebbled nipples. No bra. That was good. Less time wasted.
Simon hadn’t been able to keep his mind on anything but Tula for hours. The question of his son’s parentage had been answered and any other damn questions could just wait their turn. This was what he needed. What he had to have. Her.
Just her.
He pulled the camisole up, exposing her breasts to his hungry gaze and his mouth watered for a taste of her. He shrugged out of his shirt as she pushed the material down his arms, but beyond that, he couldn’t be bothered.
Clothes would come off when they needed to. For now…he bent his head to her breasts and took first one nipple, then the other into his mouth. She gasped and arched off the bed, pushing herself into him, silently begging for more.
He gave her what she wanted.
Lips, tongue, teeth ran across the pink, sensitized tips of her breasts. Her taste filled him, her sighs inflamed him. Her fingers threaded through his hair, holding him to her breast as she squirmed under him, desperate for more. For everything.
He knew that feeling and shared it. His body ached. He was so hard for her he felt as though he might combust if he didn’t get inside her. Tearing his mouth from her breasts, he worked his way down her incredibly lush body.
“So small, so perfect,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin.
“I’m not small,” she countered, then gasped when his tongue traced a line around her belly button. “You’re just abnormally tall.”
He grinned and glanced up at her.
She shrugged. “Fine. I’m short.”
“And curvy,” he added, flicking the snap of her jeans and drawing down the zipper in one smooth move. His fingertips slid across her skin and she whimpered.
Simon smiled again and tugged at the jeans keeping him from her. They slid off her legs and fell to the floor. He paused then to admire the scrap of pink lace that made up the thong she wore. “If I’d known those jeans were hiding something like this, we’d have made it here long before now.”
She ran her tongue across her bottom lip and everything in Simon fisted.
“Now that you know,” she teased, “what are you planning on doing about it?”
In answer, he tugged the lace down her legs and off, shifted position and pulled her to the edge of the bed.
“Thought I’d start with this,” he said and ran his tongue across the most sensitive spot on her body.
She jolted and instinctively squirmed beneath his strong hands holding her in place. But Simon wasn’t letting her go anywhere. Instead, he pulled her closer to him, draped her legs across his shoulders and took her core with his mouth.
Tula groaned helplessly against the onslaught of emotions, sensations rampaging through her system. She looked down the length of her own body to watch him as he kissed her more intimately than anyone ever had before.
It was erotic. Sensuality personified, to see him licking her, tasting her and at the same time to feel what he was making her feel. Spirals of need and want clung together inside her and twisted into a frantic knot that seemed to pulse along with the beat of her heart.
And as her heartbeat quickened so did the tension coiling inside her. Tighter, faster, she felt herself nearing a precipice that swept higher with every passing moment. She raced toward it, surrendering to the incredible sensations coursing through her. She held nothing back—sighing, groaning, whispering his name as he pushed her further along the twisting road to completion.
Her breath was strangled in her lungs. She reached for the explosion she knew was coming and when the end came, her hands clenched the quilt beneath her and Tula held on as if for her life. The world rocked