CHAPTER 4
Shaundra stood at the sink, letting the cool water flow over her wrists. She’d read in a magazine somewhere that it was supposed to cool down your entire body. Instill some calm. She doubted it, but the way she was feeling now, she would try anything.
What a disaster!
What an utter debacle.
And that phone call. What had she gotten herself into! She’d known immediately who’d been calling, and she shouldn’t have played into it because she knew Nathanael, and the kind of reaction he’d have to it.
And yet, she hadn’t been able to help herself.
She leaned forward over the marble countertop, letting her forehead come into contact with the cool mirror, and sighed. Seeing him again, looking so damn good, after months spent veering between longing and anger, had done her in. In that formal shirt and well-fitted jacket, not even bothering with a tie—which he hated wearing, even for business. His beard now a carefully trimmed and maintained feature rather than the careless stubble she used to love brushing her lips against.
The memory made something inside her abdomen tighten. The longing, the months without being touched.No, coming out tonight had been a bad idea. She hadn’t gotten the answers she thought she would.
There was a sound behind her, and she looked up, startled. The restaurant was otherwise empty. So who—. Right.Him.
He was standing in the doorway, reflected in the mirror in front of her. “This is the Ladies’,” she reminded him acidly, and washed her hands again, just to give herself something to do.
He reached out and yanked a few sheets of paper towels from the wall and held them out to her. “I’m well aware.”
Stubborn to the death, she ignored the proffered pieces of paper, reached past him, and tore off a few sheets of her own. She dried her hands carefully, then tossed the paper in the bin. His unused sheets followed.
“Shaundra,” he began.
“Please, don’t.” She held up a hand. “Whatever you’ve come to tell me, keep it to yourself. I don’t have the heart. I don’t have the energy—”
He had closed the gap between them, and one hand was at the nape of her neck, cradling it as he lowered his lips to her ear. “I know you must be tired. I know, baby. But I also know how to—”
“Don’t, Na–”
His lips began trailing along her nape as he made slow circles across her upper back. She tensed immediately, but then muscle memory set in and she felt her shoulders relax, as they always did when he stroked them.
God,she thought.He’s got me again.
She barely realized that she was lifting her lips to his, so instinctive was her response. His mouth was warm, not aggressive as she’d expected, but generous and soothing, coaxing.
Which made her curse inwardly, because if he had come on strong, she was well armed to fight him off, repel his assault. But this gentleness? How did you wage war against someone who disarmed you with a tender touch?
She found herself kissing him back, opening her mouth to his exploration. The taste of him was the same, exactly as she remembered, but the feel of his beard against her cheeks and chin felt foreign. Exciting.
She became more demanding, wanting more, lifting her arms to twist her hands into his crisp, dark hair, holding his head still so he didn’t have the chance to pull away.Mine,she thought.My husband.
His hands began to roam over her body, down her arms to her waist, and for a small second, she felt a tinge of uncertainty. She’d put on a few pounds during pregnancy—every woman did. And although her OBGYN had been very pleased with the rate at which her body was snapping back, her belly was not yet what it once was. Less of a washboard, more of a bouncy castle.
But his fingers splayed as he claimed her body, sensuously exploring her like a man who’d grown up in a small town, only to return after a long time and try to navigate a changed landscape.
Up to her breasts, still encased in that ridiculous bra Naisha had recommended to keep her engorged breasts aloft. If the stuff in it was really whalebone, she was a walking environmental hazard.
I’ve gone up two bra sizes,she thought.What would he think?
He conveyed what he thought with his eager hands, which began pulling down the top of her dress until her swollen breasts were exposed. Her nipples had darkened during pregnancy, from their nutty brown to a deep mahogany. He stared at them, hungry. Admiring her in a way that made her flush with heat.
She knew that look. She’d seen it a thousand times, the one that said,I need you. I want you. I’m having you. NOW!
“We can’t,” she said breathlessly, but even she didn’t believe herself.
He ignored her, grabbing her by the hips instead, and placing her atop the bathroom counter. His big hands reached up under her dress to grasp her tiny tanga panties and pull them down, past her thighs, her knees, her ankles.