He made love to her mouth, drugging her and making her forget about all the reasons they shouldn’t be doing this. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, the point of her shoulder. She smothered a cry when he raised her sweater and took her nipple into his mouth. She felt herself go wet between her legs. Her vision blurred when he began to suckle. She cupped the back of his head, guiding him, wanting him closer, wanting him inside her. She could feel the pounding of blood in her womb, tiny waves moving through her. Reaching down, she ran her fingers along the length of his arousal. A steel rod trapped within his jeans. Her hand went to his zipper, but he grasped her wrist and stopped her.
For an instant confusion swirled, then she felt him working the snap of her jeans. Lowering the zipper. She burned and ached and felt if he didn’t touch her soon she would die with wanting. The world tilted beneath her feel when his hands met the crisp curls at her V. Whispering his name, Lily opened to him. Shifting closer, he separated her folds and dipped two fingers inside her.
The intimacy of the contact shattered her. White light exploded behind her lids, as violent and shocking as the lightning and thunder outside. She cried out his name when he began to stroke her. Deeply, knowing exactly where to touch, how much pressure to use, when to tease, when to satisfy. A minute part of her brain knew she should stop this before things got out of control. But the rest of her knew things had already passed that point, and she could do nothing but hang on for the ride.
The waves built inside her, a relentless tide spilling onto a jagged shore. She rode the peaks, letting their power tumble her end over end until she didn’t know up from down. All the while he stroked her, deeply and firmly, driving her to a fever pitch, up and over the edge into a freefall.
She didn’t want the moment to end. The preciousness of it clenched her heart. She closed her eyes against the flood of emotion. Physical and emotional sensation melded into a single profound ache and shimmered inside her, like a diamond melting beneath a thousand suns. Tears burned behind her lids, yet her body sang with a joy that couldn’t be contained. She heard his name on her lips. A name she’d whispered a thousand times in the last months as she’d cried in the dark and denied what she knew to be true.
He captured her mouth, and she drank in the essence of him like a woman dying of thirst. She heard a sound, and only then did she realized a sob had escaped her.
Robert pulled back, his expression concerned. “I…didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Embarrassed that her emotions had spiraled out of control, Lily started to turn away, but he stopped her by touching her face gently.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Shifting slightly, he brushed the damp hair from her face, then caught a tear with the pad of his thumb. “Lily.”
“It’s okay,” she said, feeling awkward and silly and completely overwhelmed by what had just happened. “I’m just…that was…too much for me to handle.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let that happen.”
“I didn’t give you much choice.”
“I didn’t exactly say no.”
Robert looked away. Lily’s cheeks burned with the memory of everything they’d done and the wanton way she’d reacted to his kiss. She wasn’t a prude, but she didn’t give up control easily. Robert was the only person she’d ever met who could do that to her. He’d always possessed the unique ability to destroy her inhibitions and make her lose control. Not only physically, but emotionally. She supposed that’s why things had always been so intense between them. There was no middle ground when it came to her and Robert. It was all or nothing. Win or lose. Heaven or hell.
And now he knew her secret.
The thought sent a spear of panic skidding up her spine. Oh, what had she been thinking letting things get out of hand like that? She hadn’t been thinking at all. That was the problem. That had always been the problem with Robert. One touch, and her intellect crumpled and turned to dust.
Lily didn’t know what to do. He’d just proven to her that she was vulnerable to him. Far more vulnerable than she’d ever imagined. If she wasn’t careful, he would lure her into making another mistake. A mistake that could end up costing both of them far more than their hearts.
Robert stared hard at her, keenly aware that he was still fully aroused and dangerously furious. He could still feel the wetness from her on his fingers, the hot pulse of blood in his groin. He didn’t understand how she could have done this to him. How she could have done this to them. To that innocent child sleeping down the hall.
He was a father.
The thought staggered him. He told himself he should have seen it coming. The timing had been right. Jack was small for his age, but he was sick, and Robert should have known. Instead, he’d taken her at her word and assumed Jacques was Jack’s father. Why hadn’t he suspected? Robert had never been one to run away from the truth or his responsibilities. But maybe this particular truth wasn’t something he was ready to face.
He had a one-year-old son. A little boy with a sweet smile and vivid blue eyes and a serious blood disease. “Hell,” he muttered.