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But not yet.
His head dipped, he kissed the side of her neck, felt her shiver in response. He slid one hand from her hip up over the indentation of her waist, to her ribs to cup a bare breast. Her nipple was tight and hard against his palm and he rubbed it, teasing it, imagining it in his mouth, against the wet heat of his tongue.
She wiggled against him, her breast in his hand, the firm globes of her butt rubbing up and down along his erection and his control nearly snapped.
“Want you,” he said thickly.
She turned in his arms, a tiny smile curving her lips, a bright glow in her eyes. For a moment he thought she looked happy, truly happy, and his heart turned over.
Makin caught her face in his hands, kissed her deeply, before stripping off his clothes. Naked, he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled her onto his lap, lowering her slowly onto his hard shaft until she was settled firmly on his thighs, his erection embedded deeply inside of her.
With his hands on her hips he guided her, helping to set the rhythm he knew she liked. She was wet and slick and as he lifted her up and down on him, he felt her breathing quicken, heard her small quick gasps of pleasure. It was the sexiest sound and made him surge harder and deeper into her hot, wet body.
She came first and then he, and, spent, he dragged her backward on the bed to lie in his arms.
For long minutes they were quiet.
“Do you always do the right thing?” Emmeline asked, breaking the silence.
“I try,” he answered, his voice deep, husky in the dark.
“Do you ever worry that doing the right thing might not always be the right thing?”
“No.”
She turned restlessly in his arms, the sheets sticking to her damp skin, resenting him just a little for his confidence. How nice it must be never to doubt oneself! “But doing the right thing might not always be right,” she persisted. “Doing the right thing might actually be the worst thing you can do.”
“How so?” he asked, lazily, lifting her hair in his hand, letting it slide through his fingers.
Makin’s ease with her made her almost crazy. He seemed so content, so calm and self-assured. It wasn’t fair. She never felt calm and content. She almost always felt as if she were one step away from disaster.
“My uncle adopted me out of duty,” she said, drawing a deep breath, “just as you have married me out of duty. I worry that you and my uncle have both made the same mistake. Your decisions weren’t based on love, but doing the right thing, and I worry that later you might come to resent me the way Claire resented me. I think she wanted to be my mother but then felt burdened by the responsibility.”
“I’m not William or Claire, so I can’t answer for them, but I can answer for me. You will never be a burden. I chose to make you my wife. There was no gun to my head, no external pressure. It was a decision I freely made and, Emmeline, I’m a man of my word. I’ve made a commitment to you and the baby and you are now my family. Both of you.”
“But someday you’ll want children of your own,” she said, “and I’m afraid you’ll love them more—”
“No.”
“You will.” She rose up on her elbow to look down at him. “It’s natural.”
His hand wrapped around a fistful of hair and he gave it a gentle tug. “Emmeline, I won’t ever have biological children. I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“My father’s disease is genetic.” After the slightest pause he continued, “I didn’t get the disease itself, but I carry the genes. I can’t take the risk of having children and giving them my father’s disease. The disease ravished my father. The end was brutal. He suffered terribly.”
“But you talked about starting a family…”
“And I will. There are so many children in this world that need parents, love, a stable home. I’ve always planned on adopting.”
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
“I’m telling you now.”
“Yes, but what if I married you hoping to have children with you?”
“But you didn’t.”
“What if I want more children?”
“I hope you do. As an only child, I always wanted brothers and sisters. I’d love to adopt down the road, give our little one siblings.”
“And we would adopt those?”
“Yes.”
“And you would love all of them, regardless of their parentage?”
“Yes.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because they’d be ours, yours and my children.”
She lay back down next to him, facing him, scooting as close to him as she could, wanting to absorb his warmth and strength. She wished she could tell him how much she loved his strength and his confidence. She wished she could let him know that he inspired her … made her want to be bolder, more courageous.
