Happy Holidays - The Pregnancy Negotiation Part 14

"I told him about the baby."

Oh, heavens. "You don't think he'll tell anyone, do you?"

"No. I made it clear we didn't want anyone to know until you're pregnant. Then after that, he went into his usual lecture. He told me I'm not playing nice with you. You deserve better, etcetera, etcetera."

"He's wrong." She took his left hand into hers and rested it above her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "He has no idea how nice you've been. Very nice."

He gave her a look that could set the loft on fire. "And you have no idea what I want to do with you right now."

She could imagine it, in vivid detail. "What would that be?"

He pinned her in place with the methodical movement of one fingertip across the rise of her breast. "Let me tell you how my day's gone, O'Brien. I've been sitting all afternoon in a meeting, barely able to concentrate, careful to stay shoved beneath a conference room table because I was sporting some serious wood. And I don't mean the two-by-fours you'll find at a construction site. On my way here, I nearly ran two lights, almost hit a pedestrian and barely avoided taking out a couple of street signs so I could get home in order to finish what we started. Does that answer your question?"

"Yes, it does. I totally understand." And she did. Her thoughts had been wild and reckless, even if her driving had not. But something in Whit's demeanor said he was holding something back. She wasn't going to allow that, if she could get him to talk. "Okay, Manning, 'fess up. You're leaving something out."

"I think that about covers it, unless you count my snapping at one of my design team guys who promptly told me I needed to get laid."

When Whit lowered his hand to her breast, Mallory tugged it away and held it against her midriff. "I'm not referring to s.e.x. I meant you're not telling me everything your dad said to you."

"I don't want to talk about that. I don't want to talk, period."

"I'm not going to give up so we might as well get into it now."

He leaned down and rimmed her ear with his tongue. "I'd rather get into your pants."

Little did he know, she wasn't wearing any. And he wouldn't know until he came clean. "You can do that as soon as you tell me exactly what happened with your dad. All the details."

Following a rough sigh, Whit straightened, laced both his hands behind his neck and stared at the ceiling. "He told me things I didn't know about my mom."

Exactly as Mallory had suspected, something serious was bothering him. "Such as?"

"Such as she never wanted kids, ever. She divorced my dad, he didn't divorce her. And, basically, because she didn't embrace motherhood. That's why she took off like she did." He dropped his arms and clasped his hands tightly in his lap. "And I guess why I haven't heard from her on a regular basis in years."

Mallory's heart went out to him as it always had when he mentioned his absent mother. Lowering her legs from his lap, she sat up and leaned her head against his shoulder. "I can't imagine anyone not wanting a child, but then some people just aren't suited for parenthood. And I certainly can't fathom why your mother wouldn't want you."

"Well, she didn't, and that's something I've already learned to live with." He laid a hand on her thigh. "But you're different, Mallory. You deserve to be a mother."

And Whit deserved to make peace with himself and his dad. "Now that you know the truth, does this change your opinion of your father?"

"In a way, I guess it does. I don't agree with some of what he's done, but I understand him better. I also realize he always wanted me, even if my mother didn't." He looked at her straight on. "He also said he never really stopped loving her. His second marriage was a rebound, but he's happy now with Rebecca."

She could tell by Whit's solemn expression that he'd been through the emotional wringer. "I'm glad. It sounds like he deserves some happiness."

"Yeah, I guess he does. And you know what else I realized?"

"What?"

"That I want to do better with our child. I want to avoid the mistakes both my parents made. We can do that together."

"Yes, we can." If they were lucky enough to have that child. At times like these, Mallory certainly felt lucky to have Whit as the prospective father. As her friend and her lover.

He patted her leg. "And considering your parents don't know the meaning of dysfunction, we can use them as prototypes."

"My parents have had their share of problems, especially with-"

"Kevin," Whit said. "Yeah, but five out of six ain't bad. I figure there's one in every crowd."

Mallory laughed. "You're right. Unfortunately, I thought meeting Corri would change Kevin."

Whit wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer. "You know something? I've decided you can't rely on anyone to change you. It has to come from within yourself. Although I have to admit you've changed me."

Mallory held her breath, hoping for something although she wasn't sure quite what. A declaration that she meant more to him than as a friend? A vow of undying love? Neither would be in character for Whit. Neither would be logical. "How have I changed you?"

"I've actually acquired a taste for seafood."

Although that wasn't even close to what she wanted to hear, Mallory kissed his cheek. "Glad to oblige." She looked at him for a long moment, noting the weariness in his eyes. "Since you've had a rough day, I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to go on to bed."

"I do want to go to bed. With you."

She laid a dramatic hand on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and feigned shock. "You're willing to forego the stand-up s.e.x? That could mean no boy for you."

"Right now I don't care if we give birth to a reptile." He rubbed his shadowed chin. "Come to think of it, I don't think we'll have that problem with our combined gene pools. However, I'm going to nix the stand-up s.e.x, for now..." Once again he leaned close to her ear. "Because when I get through with you, you won't be able to stand."

A heavy-duty succession of chills ran the length of her body. "Oh, my."

"Oh, yeah." He traced a circle around her nipple through the satin forming to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "I can tell that thought excites you."

More than Mallory could say, so she opted not to say anything.

He stood, took her hands and pulled her up from the sofa into his arms. "What are you wearing tonight underneath that killer gown? More animal print?"

"Try nothing."

He breezed soft kisses along her jaw and palmed her bare bottom beneath the gown. "I like nothing, in terms of your underwear, that is." He pulled back and nailed her with another suggestive look. "Into the bedroom. Now."

As silly as it seemed, Mallory still had bed phobia. She a.s.sumed she would eventually get over it but decided to deal with it after one more session of lovemaking. Maybe then she would be more confident. "I have a better idea." Taking his hands, she guided him to the middle of the room and her favorite funky red rug. "Let's do it here."

Whit looked down, then back up to meet her gaze. "What is your fascination with that thing?"

She lowered to her knees then encouraged him to join her, which he did without much reluctance. "It's soft and furry. Kind of like having a favorite pet in the house."

He frowned. "It's kind of like having roadkill in the den."

"It is not." She stretched out on her side and ran her hand over the rug's surface. "It's perfect."

"You're perfect." He rolled onto his side to face her, kissed her cheek, then her chin and the tip of her nose, which Mallory had always considered too pert for her face. "Perfect everywhere."

Whit's touch was perfection in every sense of the word as he lowered the straps on the gown, baring her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to his hands, then to his mouth. Mallory formed her palms to his head, her insides coiling tighter and tighter with every caress of his lips, every flick of his tongue on her nipple. Unlike their harried attempts at lovemaking in the office, this prelude was slow and deliberate, deadly to Mallory's senses. Never before had she been treated with such care. Never before had she wanted to let go so completely and allow a man to take her wherever he desired. But this was Whit showing the way. And only Whit had been able to break down her resistance, body, soul and heart. As much as that total lack of control scared her she didn't want to fight it, at least not tonight.

With one last kiss on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, then her mouth, he stood, much to Mallory's dismay. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"To make sure the door is dead-bolted. If anyone knocks, the lights might be on, but n.o.body's home as far as I'm concerned."

Mallory grabbed two pillows from the sofa, propped one beneath her head and covered her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s with the other. "Maybe we should turn out the lights."

He whipped the T-s.h.i.+rt over his head and tossed it aside. "Not a chance. I want to see you in the light. Every part of you. You barely gave me the opportunity in the shower last night, so now it's payback time."

Admittedly, that made Mallory a little nervous but not enough to protest, especially when Whit returned from the door, snaked out of his pajamas, balled them up and pitched them across the room for a perfect landing on the top of the widescreen TV. He wore nothing except a sultry smile and a look that said he meant business. She allowed her gaze to take a trek down his belly, following the thin strip of hair below his navel. For some odd reason, be it nerves or a sojourn into insanity, Mallory remembered a song from her childhood about being happy and knowing it and clapping hands. Mr. Happy deserved a standing ovation.

On that thought, a giggle edged up her throat and came out in a burst of laughter. Whit looked down, then up again and scowled. "You know, O'Brien, a lesser man would wither if a woman laughed at him."

He was anything but a lesser man because he certainly didn't wither. Far from it. "I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you. It's just I thought about this silly song." When Whit failed to look amused, she said, "Never mind. I promise I'm not going to laugh anymore."

"You've got that right," he said as he joined her, this time on his knees, and pulled the pillow from her clutches. "And now you are going to pay for insulting Mr. Happy." He grinned. "In a real nice way."

She s.h.i.+fted against the building pressure between her thighs, amazed that he could generate so much heat and dampness there with only a provocative promise. That reaction intensified when he grasped the bodice now resting below her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and lowered it slowly then laid the gown at her feet. She wondered what he had in mind for a payback and would have asked if he hadn't begun to show her, first by drawing a line with his tongue down the center of her midriff, pausing at her navel.

He raised his head and studied her with his lethal brown eyes. "Did Larry ever do this to you?"

She didn't bother to correct her ex's name, and she didn't bother to ask what Whit had meant. She already knew. "No. Never even tried."

He moved between her legs and traced the inside of one thigh with his lips, then the other before regarding her again. "Did the office guy try?"

"Not hardly." Her voice was too shrill, her legs too shaky.

"I want to do it," he said, his deep voice smooth as silk skimming over her skin.

She wanted him to do it, would die if he didn't despite her initial urge to object. She wasn't exactly afraid of Whit. She was afraid she might not be able to bear it. Only one way to find out. "Then do it." Even those few words took a world of effort.

"Good. I'm glad I'm going to be the first one to give this to you." He bent her knees, allowing him prime exposure to his intended goal. Mallory only felt slightly self-conscious and a whole lot hot. "You're going to enjoy it, Mallory. More than you've ever enjoyed anything before."

Proof of that came when Whit settled between her thighs, using his mouth to full advantage. She nearly came off the floor when he hit the mark with his tongue and tormented her some more with the steady pull of his lips. But the torment was so welcome, so undeniably gratifying that Mallory really did question whether she would be able to endure this much pleasure. She had no more will to ponder anything other than the incredible sensations. Yet when she was nearing the point of total combustion, he took all his sweet torment away.

Mallory wanted to shout No! but instead groaned her disapproval. She couldn't help it.

He moved behind her and turned her to her side, away from him. "Don't worry, babe. I'm not done with you yet."

When Whit fitted himself against her back, Mallory glanced over her shoulder, confused and a little wary. "What exactly are we doing now?"

He pushed her hair from her ear and kissed her lobe. "Nothing kinky. I just thought that since you told me you've never had an o.r.g.a.s.m during lovemaking before, we'd take care of that tonight. This is a good way to give you the full effect."

"Is this position on the list?" Really dumb, Mallory. Really, really dumb.

"Not that I recall, but I don't think you're going to care." When he rested his leg over her hip then slid inside her, she didn't care if he stood her on her head. Didn't care if they had a boy or a girl. Didn't care about anything except his fingertips fondling her breast and his other hand seeking and searching and caressing the place where his mouth had been only minutes before.

He kept a steady rhythm, moving inside her as he plied her with pleasurable caresses. She hated that she couldn't see his face, look into his eyes. But she didn't hate his skill at all, or his stamina. The tension began to mount, the lovely pressure began to build, intense and forceful until an explosive climax ripped through her. The extent of her gratification came out in a long almost mournful moan and she didn't try to stop it. She wanted him to know how wonderful he'd made her feel.

"I know, babe," he said, his warm breath flowing over her ear. "It feels good. And I can't begin to tell you how good it feels to be inside you to feel it too."

She reached back and molded her hand to his bottom in order to experience his muscles working with every thrust of his body. His respiration increased and his frame grew taut, letting Mallory know he wasn' t far from his own climax. Then she remembered something else she had read about, a specific erogenous zone on a man's body. A hot spot. She wasn't certain she would have the courage to attempt it. But this was Whit, the accomplished lover, and she wanted him to experience the ultimate pleasure that he had given her. Provided it worked.

Determined to try, she slid her palm over his hip and then curled her hand on the inside of his thigh near his b.u.t.tock, traveling higher between his legs and pressed lightly on the place that reportedly would drive him wild. Whit violently shuddered and he released a feral groan as his arms tightened around her. She could hear the raspy sound of his breathing, could feel the dampness where his chest met her back. He continued to shake uncontrollably for a few more minutes and, for a split second, she worried that she'd somehow injured him. If so, he'd probably never want her to touch him, much less make love with him again.

But her worries were put to rest when he said, "d.a.m.n, that was incredible. Where did you learn about that?"

Knowledge was power, and Mallory loved the power she held over him at the moment. She looked back at him and smiled. "Would you believe a lucky guess?"

He frowned. "h.e.l.l, no."

"Okay, it was something I read about. Did I do it right?"

His fingertips idled on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as he rested his cheek against her cheek. "Oh, yeah. You could say that." He showed his appreciation by tipping her head toward him and giving her a deep kiss before saying, "No woman has ever done that to me before."

Mallory could not have been more pleased. She pulled his arms tighter around her. "Good. I'm glad I was the first one to give that to you."

"So am I, Mallory."

He held her then, silent, occasionally brus.h.i.+ng a palm over her hip and a kiss on her neck. Mallory cherished these moments, reveled in them, took them to memory. As great as their lovemaking had been, this was the ultimate as far as she was concerned, having Whit holding her close. Having Whit so intimately united with her. Having Whit, period. She wanted to tell him how much she appreciated his willingness to father her baby. She even considered telling him about the baby she'd lost. But this was a time to cherish, and by dredging up sorrowful memories she would destroy the wonderful mood of the moment.

After a time, he slipped from her body and turned her into his arms, framing her face in his palm as he studied her eyes. "Don't ever let anyone tell you again that you're a lousy lover, Mallory. You're the best I've ever had."

A high compliment coming from a man like Whit, but Mallory dwelled on the fact that he intimated she would have another lover. Problem was, she didn't want another lover. She wanted him. Only him. But she couldn't have him, at least not in that way. Yes, they might conceive a child. And yes, they would raise that child together. But they could never be together in the way that Mallory was beginning to want him-permanently.

Acknowledging those feelings gave her the strong urge to borrow one of Whit's favorite tricks-running away. But she couldn't run, not if she wanted to have a baby, and she still did. She would just have to accept that what they had shared, what they would share, would only exist for the sake of having a child.

Right now, Mallory did have to get away from him. The emotional tug of war was getting to her. She still had a job to do tomorrow, and, in order to do it, she needed sleep. She had a heart she needed to keep intact as well. Wresting from his arms, she sat up, gathered her gown and pulled it over her head, then came to her feet.

"Where are you going?" he asked. "If it's the kitchen, I could use a midnight snack. Just a little something to keep up my energy level." He topped off that comment with a seductive look.

"I'm going to my room and going to bed."

"That sounds like a great idea." He stood and without even attempting to dress, took her back into his arms. "I've always wanted to try out your bed."

She needed to push him away, but she didn't have the will. "I'm going to bed alone, Whit. If I don't, you and I know what will happen. That's not a good idea since we both have to be up early."

He planted a kiss on the corner of her mouth and pressed against her, coming very close to dissolving her resistance. "I guarantee I'll be up early. That's why I want to be in your bed."

She stepped out of his arms and stretched. "Not tonight. I still have some work to do before I call it quits for the evening."

Walking to the TV, he retrieved his pajamas and slipped them back on before returning to her. "Mallory, I don't understand why the h.e.l.l you keep avoiding the bed."

"I'm not avoiding the bed." Yes, she was, but not for her original reasons. She had more confidence as a lover, but she was less a.s.sured that she wouldn't fall even deeper under his spell if she allowed that much intimacy. "I would just prefer to go to bed alone. Okay?"

He streaked a hand over his neck. "Fine. No means no. I'll see you in the morning." He started away but, when he reached the staircase, turned to her again. "I want more of this, Mallory. A lot more. Understand?"

But Whit didn't want more from her than s.e.x and a baby. He never would. She would make love with him a little longer, then prepare to eventually walk away when the time came, hopefully with a baby, all that he could give her, provided he could even give her that.

Chilled to the bone, she hugged her arms to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "I plan to continue our lovemaking." She sounded like the lawyer, cool, calm and professional. Inside she was anything but calm.