Chapter 32

I rip my glistening gaze away and it lands on the clock again. It’s just past two. He must have gotten on his plane almost immediately after we’d hung up.

“Tell me it’s okay,” he whispers. “That I’m here.”

The corners of my mouth quiver and I’m on the verge of major waterworks. Somehow, I force them back. Somewhat. A few drops trickle down my cheeks.

I wiggle in his loose embrace and roll toward him, facing him.

He whisks away the tears. “Please, don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it. You really ought to be back home. With your father.”

“He’s under superior care.”

“So am I,” I remind him.

“But you were worried… Frightened, even. I could tell.”

“Yes.”

There’s no sense in lying or trying to minimize the emotional trauma. And why would I? I’m not heartless.

Sure, I’m attempting to not be so emotionally attached to the baby (or to Nick), but I’ve already discerned that’s inevitable. On both counts. My challenge is to contain it, within some logical box.

Though not exactly at this particular moment.

It’s a pivotal one, I can’t dismiss that.

Deep down, Nick instinctively knew I needed him.

And I believe he needs confirmation in person that all’s well.

Unfortunately, I would feel horrifically bad if anything happened to his father while Nick was here with me.

Conversely… He’d experience the same agony if something went awry after we’d gotten off the phone and he hadn’t come.

I tell him, “You’re in a shitty spot.”

His fingertips graze my cheek, then up to my temple to brush away a curl.

“As I’ve mentioned, Bailey, I was hoping my father’s condition would improve, when he was first diagnosed. But I don’t regret having moved forward with the surrogacy, even knowing the prognosis was dire—and that I’d be torn between you and him.”

“I hate that you have to be concerned about me and this child right now.”

“Bailey, life is unpredictable. Older life and new life.” He stares into my eyes and adds, “I’m capable of juggling responsibilities. I just… I’m not sure you want me here.”

There it is again. Uncertainty from a man who’s used to being in charge.

I sniffle. And shoot for a little levity to mellow the mood. “If you fly over at every single twinge, Nick, it’ll make for one exceedingly long and excruciating term for you.” Because I know he’d stress the entire flight. “You’ll be run ragged before I even give birth.”

He grins. Sexily. His eyes glow in the moonlight I like to have partially filtering in from the patio doors. “I’ll do whatever I have to do, Bailey. Especially if it consoles you.”

Given I’m melting into him, it’s no stretch of the imagination for him to make this assumption.

“I appreciate that. But I think everything’s going to be okay.”

I want to move away from him. So we can both breathe easier. But I stay where I am. We’re snuggled together and I’m inhaling him and he’s trailing his fingers over my skin and…

It’s too perfect for me to shatter the bliss.

I absolutely do not want to shatter the bliss.

I’ve been in hell since I did, that night I walked out on our romantic dinner.

Problem is, my statement about him not being at his father’s side when he passes is an undeniable consideration.

We’re both balancing on a tightrope with our wants and desires. Our obligations.

If only I could pack up my life and leave with Nick. That would change everything. Provide relief on both our sides.

But I can’t. I won’t. For so many reasons—and the restaurant is only one of them.

I’m not meant to invade his life in Europe. I’m meant to give him an heir. And then fade into the background.

That makes our intimate association risky—and if it remains intimate, we’re setting ourselves up for trouble. Big trouble.

Oh, how he tempts me, though.

I almost loathe that I’m such a realist.

Contradictorily, I believe this web we’ve woven dictates it.

Regardless…

Oh, regardless…

I can’t stop myself from tilting my chin and sweeping my lips over his.

I feel the jolt, straight to my core. A physical reaction as much as a visceral one.

I’m not doing us any favors.

I also… Can’t resist him.

Seems it’s a mutual affliction, because his hand cups the side of my face and his thumb hooks under my jaw to keep me where I am—so he can kiss me.

Good Lord, does he!

It is a hot, deep, wet, passionate kiss that goes on and on.

It's seductive. It's suggestive.

And this time… I’m wholly disinclined to send him away.

This time… I want him to stay.

“I’ve never been a waffler,” I confess in between Nick’s searing kisses. “I’ve always picked one road and followed it.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over having conflicting emotions, baby.”

His voice is so low and sensual, I feel a stirring deep in my soul.

Also… He’s using a term of endearment again. As though we’ve made our way back to that space.

I can’t say that we have.

I can’t say that we haven’t.

All I know is we have an ocean to contend with and it’s not the Pacific; the ocean I love, the one I’ve grown up with, the one I’ve always wanted to live by. It’s the Atlantic, goddamn it.

At the moment, however, I’m not focused on that.

I’m simply stating I understand the impasse.

And I take culpability for my part—while also recognizing why Nick has his stance.

I respect his stance, actually.

I believe he respects mine, as well.

He comprehends where I came from and why this dream of mine is so important.

He also clearly grasps that I’m divided between it and him.

Similar to his attention being divided between me and a kingdom.

My fingertips brush along his temple and I stare into his eyes. I know we’ve already made amends in terms of how I’d essentially cut him off the last time he was here. Hell, I’m pretty sure our scorching kisses solidify that.

Not to mention, he innately knew I wouldn’t mind him crawling into bed with me.

The only complication therein is that he’s not totally naked, nor am I. And that is one-thousand percent what I want—to feel his skin on mine, his muscles surrounding me.

Yet I really can’t risk stripping down with Nick.

I don’t want to do anything potentially hazardous after my earlier crisis.

Nick will inherently grasp this.

Still… He’s not opposed to or hesitant about keeping our lips tangling, our tongues twisting. His fingers skim over my quivering flesh. So tantalizingly, I sigh into his mouth.

He kisses the tip of my nose and grins.

“We’re better?” he asks.

“Yes and no,” I admit. “I want you.”

“I want you too.”

“But we can’t. Not until Dr. Shaw examines me again.”

“Bailey.” His gaze narrows. “That’s not what I came here for.”

I nip at his bottom lip. And say, “I know that, Nick.”

My fingers thread his thick hair.

He tells me, “I just had to be with you.”

That is a sentiment that resonates through every inch of me. Twines around my psyche.

It is significant and yet… If I really put great thought into it… It’s not a surprising comment.

I stare into his eyes and say, “And you know that’s mutual.”

“I suspected.”

“No. You knew.”

His arm tightens enough around my waist so that my body seals to his. I’m wearing a nightie and he has on his boxer-briefs. I wind my arms around his neck and tug just a tad, so that he gets the hint and eases me onto my back.

He wedges himself between my parted legs, though he props himself up on his forearms, so I barely feel his weight.

I frown.

He kisses me and murmurs, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not going to hurt me,” I insist.

“I just want to be close to you.”

“I want you closer.”

“Bailey…” His tone is so incredibly arousing. But neither of us caves.

“Fine,” I mock-grumble. “Err on the side of caution.” It’s for the best, anyway. Except… I really want all of him, covering my body, pressing me into the mattress.

He kisses me tenderly now. He’ll do his damnedest to keep this from getting out of control. And I have to put effort into not tempting him into letting it get out of control.

Despite that rationale, I’m not completely out of the game here.

I give him a little shove and he groans and flops onto his back, beside me. “You don’t trust us not to get carried away.”

“I trust you,” I assure him. “Me…? Not so much. But there’s something ‘safe’ I can do.”

I roll toward him, under the covers. I work the band of his boxer-briefs over his hips and erection and down his powerful thighs.

“Bailey…” He half-chuckles, half-growls. Another sexy, titillating sound from the sexiest, most titillating man I’ve ever met.

“I really can’t resist,” I say, gazing up at him, my eyes wide and innocent.

He snickers. Playfully.

“I have no problem with you wanting to please me,” he contends. “It’s not necessary, though.”

“Oh, but it sort of is, because now the thought is burning through my brain and I absolutely do want to tease and please you.”

I shift enough to whisk away the material. I move into the V his sprawled legs have created and run my hands up to his thighs, my thumbs trailing along the inner portions.

“You’re too mischievous by far,” he murmurs, heat tinging his voice.

“I made a mistake, Nick,” I earnestly tell him.

“You don’t owe me anything, Bailey. Not even an explanation.”

“Oh, this isn’t I.O.U sex. This is me being incapable of keeping my hands off you.”

Additionally, I’m liberated by that taunting statement he’d uttered on the phone: I want to have this baby with you. With you, Bailey.

I don’t believe he feels he shouldn’t have made that monumental confession. Nick is judicious about his actions; he also doesn’t shirk the consequences of them.

Regardless of his suggestion not being a possibility, I can at least accept it’s something he’s considered. Something he desires.

In all honesty, it thrills me he’s sincere enough to broach the subject.

It builds upon our complexity, sure. But it does warm my heart.

And I’m happy to give him something in return. Though… He’s not the only one who’ll reap the reward. There is immense satisfaction to be had in getting him off.

I grin at the thought.

He smirks. “You’re amused by…what, exactly?” He eyes me skeptically.

“Just thinking how much I’m going to enjoy this.” I lick my lips. “You are quite the masterpiece.”

My nails graze his sac and his hips jerk. I am supremely delighted to cause this response.

My fingers curl around his base. He’s hard and full. I hold him loosely at first, gently sliding my hand up his shaft, then back down.

“Such the delicate touch,” he murmurs.

“For now. Just toying with you a bit.”

“Like I mind…”

My stomach flutters. My nipples pebble behind the satin bodice of my nightie.

I settle more comfortably between his legs, partially on my hip. My hand that was on his thigh splays against his solid abs as I balance myself.

Still maintaining a light grip on him, I dip my head. Drag my tongue oh-so-slowly up the side of his cock. I flick the groove under the head, butterfly-wing flickers.

He pulls in a sharp breath. The exhalation is a strained one.

I’m well aware this is going to be one of those instances where he’ll have to wholly test his restraint. I’ll push him to the edge and then he’ll want to be inside me. But that won’t happen. Not this time. We both know it and that’ll make this more intense. Hence the reason I’m taking a gradual approach. So he doesn’t snap.

And because… I truly do like pleasuring him this way.

My tongue flits over his tip, glancing the indentation where a tiny pearl appears. I lick it up. He gives a primal grunt, in anticipation of my next move.

I wet my lips and glide them along his skin, to his root. Then I get a little more adventurous. I continue holding him, but I lick my other palm and rub it over the smooth, velvety skin of his cockhead.

His pelvis bucks. He groans.

“So sensitive…” I whisper against his flesh. And that sends another jolt through him. “Try to relax,” I teasingly coax.

He lies back and stacks his hands behind his head. “By all means, baby. Have at it.”