The Pregnancy Test (NY Girlfriends #1)(20)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Damien brushed a hair back that had caught on her lip. "This isn’t a one-night stand. It’s not just about sex. It’s about being together, enjoying each other, if only for a few hours." It was about loosening the suffocating chains of loneliness and reaching out for something simple and uncomplicated. "But I’m not looking for a relationship either."

He couldn’t believe he was about to admit this, but he wanted her to understand, wanted her to know what this – she – meant to him. "I haven’t been with a woman in three years."

"You haven’t been in a relationship in three years?"

"Yes, but I also haven’t had sex in three years."

Understanding dawned in her eyes. "Oh. Oh, my." She stroked his forearm. "Since Jess?"

He nodded, not willing to say any more. "That’s been a conscious choice I’ve made, and now I’m making the conscious choice to change that. Let me have you tonight, Mandy."

There was no way she was going to say no. He could read the acquiescence in her eyes, the way she leaned toward him, stroked his arms and opened her mouth. Her breasts pressed against him as she tilted her head to the side and gave a small, sweet sigh.

"Oh, I’m not a bloody idiot, Damien. I have every intention of doing this – I just needed to make sure we were clear on what it was, and that you don’t think I’m some sort of swinger who sleeps with her boss in the Caribbean on every job she takes."

He raised an eyebrow. "That definitely wasn’t on your resume."

She gave a soft laugh and wet her lips, making him wanl to suck on both her lip and her tongue, taking turns. "What if I don’t meet your expectations? Three years is a long time to wait. I’d hate to be a disappointment."

That was a joke. He’d be lucky if he got a full five seconds in her before he exploded. "As long as you don’t have some sort of objection to oral sex, we’ll be fine. I have it in my head that I’d really like to taste you."

Her breathing quickened. "Funny, that. I had a dream you were doing that very thing to me, and I was really quite enjoying it."

Damien’s groin tightened. What the hell were they doing standing here then?

"You know, you’re usually much more efficient than this, Move it, Mandy. Before I drop your sundress here on the sidewalk." And he reached for her zipper.

Mandy had taken Damien’s threat seriously, and a quick two minutes later they were in his room, her beach bag tumbling to the floor as she reached for the buttons on his linen shirt.

She’d seen the way he looked in his swim trunks thai afternoon and she wanted to touch that broad chest. She wanted to explore his hard flesh, make him tremble with want. She wanted to draw this all out and enjoy every blasted second of it since she was facing a future of celibacy.

Damien’s own hands were busy unzipping the back of her dress. But whereas she was fumbling, overeager, nervous, he was quiet, studied, intent. Goose bumps rose on her flesh as his fingers trailed over her back. His room was at the end of the hall, remote, the sounds of the resort buffered by palm trees and flowering plants. The whirr of the ceiling fan and the uneven tempo of their breathing were the only sounds in the room.

All her doubts, all her concerns, fear about how she should behave and how he might react to her pregnancy, her body the way it was now, had all evaporated when Damien told her he hadn’t been with a woman in three years. She’d seen it then, what he had been telling her. That they both needed each other, just here, just now, to touch and taste and push on each other in uncomplicated pleasure.

She wanted that. She wanted him.

Buttons free, she spread his shirt and sighed as the palms of her hands caressed hard, warm muscle. "You have a lovely chest."

His lip quirked up. "What a coincidence. I was thinking the same thing about you."

Mandy glanced down and saw that with the zipper undone, her dress had slipped a bit, only to come to a crashing halt at her cleavage. Nothing could get past her newly blossoming breasts, and her plump flesh was bursting out of the top of her strapless bra.

"This isn’t my natural state, you know," she told him, pushing his shirtsleeves down to his wrists. "Every day I wake up to find they’re a bit bigger, like I’ve taken an air pump to them."

Damien’s thumb ran over the swell above her bra. "I like the end result."

"Yes, well, easy for you to say." Mandy gripped his wrist as his thumb brushed lower and lower, skirting her nipple. She gave a sound of disappointment. "But at this rate, I fully expect one day to roll over and have them clap."

He laughed, expression relaxed and amused. "I love your sense of humor."

She was about to tell him that back in England, at The Wycombe Abbey School for Girls, she’d been quite the comedic thespian, but she only had time to open her mouth before he ripped her dress down to her waist, and she promptly forgot how to speak.

Or breathe, when his head descended to her chest and his tongue traced above the rim of her overburdened bra. Back and forth it went, as if it was on a leisurely stroll in the park, and Mandy shivered, appreciating fully how much more sensitive her breasts were now. Torn between wanting to just enjoy his teasing tongue and urging him to dispense with her bra and head south to her nipple, Mandy gripped his wrists and squeezed.

Damien lifted his head, and Mandy expected him to shove her dress down, strip himself, and slide right into her standing up.

Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

But she had expected Damien to be urgent, to take charge, to rush through to the release they were both seeking.

He was taking charge, yes, but he wasn’t interested in rushing. Which had its pros and cons.

As she tugged his shirt off and dropped it to the floor, Damien pulled the clip out of her hair. He stroked in it and smiled. "I love your hair. It’s just like you. Sort of free, with a mind of its own, but always in control."

Was that the way he saw her? Mandy thought that was just a lovely way to describe her, even if she felt control was the last thing she possessed. Unable to resist touching him, she smoothed out his dark eyebrows, traced his cheeks, brushed along his lips in a caress that was too intimate, but felt so, so right here with Damien. His lips pressed in a kiss over her fingers and she smiled, knowing she felt as raw and vulnerable as he looked.

"If you think I’m in control, you’re a sandwich short of a picnic," she whispered to him. "But thank you for that."