Page 21 of Just One Last Night


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Melanie was quiet for a moment, then her voice came faintly muffled from his chest. ‘Way back? What does that mean?’

He caught the tinge of jealousy she was trying to conceal and almost smiled. ‘She’s the mother of a close friend, grandmother of six and has been happily married for forty years.’ Miriam was also much sought after and at the top of her field professionally, but he wasn’t about to mention that.

‘Forde, it won’t change anything. You know that, don’t you?’ She raised swimming eyes to his. ‘You have to face the inevitable. I have.’

‘Go and see her, that’s all I’m asking,’ he said softly. He kissed her again, and in spite of telling himself to go carefully it deepened into something more than comfort. A restless urgency surfaced and he knew she felt it too by the way she clung to him in a hungry response that took the last of his control. His hands roamed over her body, touching her with sensual, intimate caresses, and then he scooped her up in his arms as he murmured against her lips, ‘I want you. Tonight. But if you want me to leave now, I’ll go.’

Her answer was to kiss him with a desire that was unmistakable, and with a small growl Forde carried her up the stairs to the bedroom. He laid her on the bed and in frantic haste and without speaking they tore off their clothes and then he lay down beside her, cupping her face in his palms and kissing her deeply and passionately.

She had always been a lover who gave as much as she got and now her hands and mouth explored him as hungrily as his did her, twisting and turning with him as they moaned their pleasure. Her breasts felt fuller in his hands and as he took one rosy nipple in his mouth she arched with a little cry.

‘They—they’re more sensitive now,’ she gasped against what he was doing to her, and as his mouth returned to hers he swept his tongue inside and then pulled back and bit her bottom lip gently.

‘You’re so beautiful, my love,’ he murmured shakily. ‘I don’t think I can wait much longer.’

‘Then don’t.’

She was wet and warm for him when he entered her. She hooked her legs round him and raised her hips and they moved together in perfect unison towards a release that had them both calling out as they tipped over the edge into white pleasure. Then he circled her in his arms, one thigh lying over hers as she opened drugged eyes. ‘You don’t know how many cold showers I’ve taken in the middle of the night recently,’ he murmured wryly.

She half smiled, but he could see she was thinking again. ‘Forde, we shouldn’t have—’

‘Yes, we should.’ He brushed back a strand of hair from her face. ‘I wanted you and you wanted me. It was that simple. Don’t try to complicate it.’

‘But it doesn’t—’

‘Change anything,’ he finished for her. ‘Yes, I know. Don’t worry. Go to sleep.’ He pulled the duvet over them.

Her expression was one of total confusion and remorse. ‘It’s not fair to you,’ she whispered.

‘Nell, believe me, I can live with this sort of unfairness,’ he said drily.

She smiled again but a proper smile this time and he grinned back at her. ‘Go to sleep,’ he said again, kissing the tip of her nose and then her mouth. ‘Everything’s OK.’

She was asleep within moments, snuggled close to him, but Forde lay and watched her for a long, long time. Everything’s OK. What a stupid thing to say, he thought ruefully. His wife had told him she was going to hand over their baby to him at birth and then disappear out of their lives, and he’d said everything was OK. But he had no intention of letting her do that, not for a second, so maybe everything was, if not OK, then clearer than it had been for a good while.

With a feather-light touch he reached out his fingers and ran them across her belly. It might be his imagination but already he thought he could feel a slight swell. His child was alive in there, tiny now but each day gaining strength.

Tears pricked at the backs of his eyes. It had been a long, hard road since they’d lost Matthew, and they still weren’t at the end of it yet, not by a long chalk, but against all the odds a miracle had happened and Melanie was pregnant. That one night of loving had produced this baby and no matter what he had to do to achieve it, they were going to be a family. If he had to kidnap Melanie and take her and their baby to some remote place in the back of beyond until she accepted that, he’d do it.

She stirred in her sleep, murmuring his name before breathing steadily and quietly once more.

It was a tiny thing, but it cheered him. She was his. End of story, he thought fiercely. And promptly fell asleep.

CHAPTER NINE

MELANIE woke first the next morning, aware she was wonderfully warm and cosy and sleepy. Then her eyes snapped open. Forde. He was curled into her back, one male arm resting possessively across h

er stomach.

Very, very carefully she eased his arm off her and then turned to face him. He was fast asleep, the duvet down to his waist revealing his wide, muscled shoulders and the black curly body hair covering his chest. She drank him in for some moments and then slid silently out of bed. She didn’t intend to sneak away like the time before, she wouldn’t do that to him again, but neither did she want to pretend they were like any other couple waking up together.

Gathering her clothes in her arms, she padded through to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. When she emerged, fully clothed and coiffured, she glanced through the open bedroom door. Forde was sitting up in bed, his hands behind his head, and her heart raced like a runaway horse. He looked like every woman’s fantasy of what she’d like to find in her Christmas stocking.

‘Hi, sweetheart,’ he said lazily. ‘All finished in there?’

She nodded jerkily. And then found she couldn’t tear her eyes away as he flung back the duvet and stood up. She had seen him naked many times but she didn’t think she would ever grow tired of looking at him. The flagrant maleness was intoxicating and he moved as beautifully as one of the big cats, his muscles sleek and honed and not an ounce of fat on his hard frame. He had almost reached her before she pulled herself together, but as she went to disappear down the stairs he turned her round with his hand on her arm. His kiss was firm and sweet but he didn’t prolong the embrace, although as he turned away and strolled into the bathroom Melanie noticed a certain part of his anatomy was betraying his desire for her in the age-old way.

Heat slammed into her cheeks as she scurried downstairs, but then the faint feeling of sickness that would gather steam throughout the day before dispersing round seven or eight o’clock in the evening made itself felt. It was the one thing about pregnancy she truly hated, she told herself, forcing down a couple of dry biscuits once she reached the kitchen. Before she had become pregnant with Matthew she had always imagined morning sickness was just that—you woke up, you vomited, and then you got on with the rest of the day as right as rain. Instead this horrible nausea and the overall feeling of being unwell dogged her all day, but if this baby followed the same pattern as Matthew it would only be another two or three weeks before she felt better.

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