Seductive Revenge

“No, we really can’t.”

“Why?”

He heard Isabelle sigh.

“What about your uncles? They all live here. Wouldn’t you miss them?”

“Yes. But they could come, too!”

Wes felt a surge of pride. It seemed his daughter was as hardheaded as he was.

“Baby girl,” Belle said, “how about we just enjoy Wes while he’s here, okay?”

“But I don’t want him to leave.”

Wes’s heart filled and he had to gulp in a breath to steady himself.

“I know, sweetie,” Belle said softly. “Neither do I.”

And he smiled. There it was. She didn’t want him to leave any more than Caro did. So maybe it wouldn’t be hard to convince Belle to come back to Texas with him. To try being together—not just for the sake of their daughter.

And on that happy thought, he stepped into Caroline’s room. It was a little girl’s dream, he imagined. Everything from a canopy bed to a play table and chairs and bookcases filled with stories to be read over and over again. There were stuffed animals, a child’s learning computer and, in the corner, a dollhouse as tall as Caro herself.

“Wes!” Caroline scooted out of bed, ran to him and threw her arms around his legs.

There went that twist to his heart again. While he hugged his daughter, his gaze caught Belle’s, and he knew she was wondering how much of their conversation he’d overheard.

“Did you bring a present?” Caro squealed, her fingers moving as fast her voice. “For me?”

“It’s a present for the best dancer in the whole show,” he said, tapping his finger against his mouth. “Now who was that?”

“Me!” Caroline shouted. “It was me. Wasn’t it me?” she asked, now sounding a little less confident.

“You bet it was you,” Wes told her and handed her the red ribbon–wrapped white box.

“Mommy, look!” Caro staggered toward her mother, balancing the box awkwardly but refusing to put it down.

“I see,” Belle said, laughing. “Why don’t you put the box down so you can open it?”

“I will!” Caro set it on the floor, plopped down beside it and yanked at the ribbon until it fell away. Then she lifted the lid, pushed back the white tissue and said, “Ooh…”

One small word drawn out into a sigh of pleasure so rich and deep. Wes had to grin. She liked it.

“Mommy, look!” Caroline pulled the doll out of the box and inspected every inch of her. “She’s like me, Mommy. Her hair and her eyes and, Mommy, she gots hearing aids like me!”

“You like her?” Wes asked unnecessarily.

“I love her,” Caro said and handed the doll to her mother so she could run at Wes again. This time, he scooped her up and held her so she could throw her small arms around his neck and hang on. He’d never felt anything as wonderful as a freely given hug from his child. Her warm, soft weight in his arms, the scent of her shampoo, her grip on his neck and her whisper of “Thank you, Wes” made his heart fill to bursting.

Then he looked at Belle and saw her beautiful eyes shining with unshed tears and he was lost completely. He felt the ground beneath his feet shift as if he were standing in an earthquake. These two females had shattered him without even trying. And he wasn’t entirely sure it bothered him.

* * *

Once Caroline was tucked in with her new doll clutched tightly to her chest, Isabelle led Wes from the room and pulled the door almost closed behind them.

In the dimly lit hallway, she turned to look up at Wes and said softly, “She loves that doll. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. But I’m glad she loves it.” He smiled and threw a quick glance at the door separating them from their daughter. He looked back at Isabelle. “It’s from our new Just Like Me line. We’re set to launch in a few weeks, so Caro got one of the very first.”

The fact that he’d thought of it, arranged to have the doll sent here, touched Isabelle so deeply, her heart ached. “It meant so much to her. To me, too. You could have told her then. That you’re her father.”

He shook his head slowly. “No. I don’t want to give her a present and a responsibility all at once. When I tell her who I am, I want it to be the right time.”

Tears still brimmed in her eyes, remembering her daughter’s excitement and the wonder on her face when she realized the doll had hearing aids just like she did. Wes could not have given her anything that would have meant more. It was hard on a child, being different from all of the other kids, but Caro was so much a force of nature, that even at four, she was completely sure of herself. And yet, having a doll with hearing aids had suddenly given Caro a boost of even more self-confidence.

Wes had given their daughter more than a doll. He’d given her acceptance. Now, with his simple truth that he wanted to wait for the right time to admit to Caroline who he was, Isabelle’s heart was lost. Again.

She took a breath, grabbed Wes’s hand, pulled him along the hallway and said, “Come with me.”

“Where we going?”

“Where we were always headed,” she said and tugged him into her bedroom. No point in lying to herself, Isabelle thought. This had been inevitable from the moment he arrived in Colorado. She’d known it, felt it. As if seeing him again had fanned every ember inside her into life, now that banked fire was a raging inferno and she didn’t want to try to quench it anymore.

Moonlight on snow reflected into the room through the wide windows, giving the bedroom a soft, pale glow. She took a quick glance around the familiar space, the mountains of pillows stacked against the curved brass headboard, the thick, dark green comforter, the cozy chairs in front of the bay window and the brightly flowered rug across the gleaming wood floors. Reaching out, she flipped a wall switch and the gas fireplace in the sky blue–tiled hearth leaped to life.

This was her sanctuary. She’d never invited a man into this space before—not only because she hadn’t been interested, but because she hadn’t wanted Caroline to watch men coming and going. Not that there would have been a parade of men or anything. Yet tonight, it somehow seemed inevitable that Wes would be the first. Isabelle wasn’t nervous, because it felt too right to her to second-guess herself. She’d made her decision and wouldn’t back down now.

“Belle?” Wes looked down at her, desire warring with questions in his eyes.

“No talking,” she said and went up on her toes. She hooked her arms around his neck, tipped her head to one side and kissed him with everything she had.

Surprised, it took him a second to react, but then he was kissing her back, making Isabelle’s head spin when he deepened that kiss, stealing her breath. He parted her lips with his tongue, dipping into her mouth to taste, explore with a hunger that matched her own.

His arms came around her, pressing her body tightly to his. Isabelle felt like she was on a roller coaster. Her stomach pitched wildly, her heartbeat thundered in her chest and everywhere he touched her, her skin burned.

One of his big hands caught the back of her head and his fingers speared through her hair, holding her still for the wild plundering of her mouth. She felt every inch of his body along hers and moaned at the hard length of him pushing against her abdomen. She wanted him, maybe more now than she ever had before.

She hadn’t been with a man since Wes. Isabelle had told herself that she simply wasn’t ready. That one day she would be and then she would move on. Find a life. But the simple truth was, she hadn’t been able to be with another man because it was always Wes that she wanted. Everything she’d once felt for him came rushing back in an undeniable wave, knocking her sideways while she struggled to find balance.

Wes walked her forward a few steps, eased her onto the bed and then followed her down. He never let go of her, only adjusting his grip so that his hands could slide over her body with a fierce possessiveness that thrilled Isabelle. Finally, he tore his mouth from hers and she gasped and gulped for air.

Tipping her head back into the mattress, she felt him tugging at the buttons of her shirt and wished wildly for Velcro closing. It would be so much faster. At that last thought, the fabric parted and his hand came down on one of her breasts. Even through the silky lace of her bra, she felt the heat of him, and when his thumb rubbed across her nipple, she whimpered.

“Wes…”

“No talking,” he whispered. “Remember?”

“Right. No talking. All I’ll say is…more.”

“Right there with you,” he muttered and flicked open the front clasp of her bra, freeing her breasts so that he could lower his head and take first one nipple and then the other into his mouth.

Everything inside her exploded. Isabelle arched into him as his lips, tongue and teeth pulled at her sensitive nipples. A kaleidoscope of sensation shattered inside her mind. While he tortured her with his mouth, he slid one hand down her body to the waistband of her slacks, and in seconds he had the button and zipper undone. His fingers slipped beneath her panties to stroke her center.

And just like that, she was wearing too many clothes. Isabelle’s mind struggled for clarity, even as her body shrieked at her to stop thinking and just feel. But she needed more of him. The hot slide of skin to skin, the feel of his hard, muscular body pressed to hers. The amazing sensation of him pushing into her depths and filling her completely.

“I want to feel you,” she whispered.

He lifted his head and grinned. “You are.”

She laughed a little and felt it tremble through her. “Funny. But take your clothes off.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, bending down to plant another long, hard kiss on her mouth.

She loved the taste of him, the feel of him. And when he moved away from her to peel off his clothes, she missed his warmth, the heat of their bodies wrapped together. He stood up, and she shrugged out of her clothes, kicked her pants off and lay on the comforter, watching him. When he stopped dead, with his hands at his belt, she managed to ask, “What’s wrong?”

“We can’t do this.”

“What?”

He pushed both hands through his hair in frustration. “No protection, Belle. I haven’t kept a condom in my wallet since I was in college.”

She was glad to hear it. But she laughed a little and said, “Oh. For a second there, I thought you were changing your mind.”

“Not a chance,” he said, “but unless you—”

“In the bedside table drawer,” she said, wanting to cut this conversation short and get back to shivering and trembling.

He pulled the drawer open, then looked at her, eyebrows arched. “Quite the supply,” he said. “Been busy?”

She shook her head, licked her lips and choked out a short chuckle. “No. I think of that drawer as my hope chest. I figured it’s better to have them and not need them—”

“Than to need them and not have them,” he finished for her.

“Exactly.”

He grabbed one of the foil packets, stripped out of his clothes and said, “I do like a woman who’s prepared.”

“Show me.”

He didn’t need another invitation. He came to her, covering her body with his, and Isabelle sighed at the first soft, warm contact of his skin to hers. She’d missed this so much. His scent, his taste, his strength. He was a businessman, but his big hands still carried the calluses he’d earned as a young man. And the scrape of his rough palms along her body created a new and even more exciting layer of sensation.

He rolled over, bringing her on top of him, and she loved looking down into those sea-colored crystal eyes. His hands cupped and kneaded her behind and she writhed on top of him in response. She kissed him hard, fast, then raised her head to watch him as she shifted, rising up, moving to straddle him.

In the moonlit room, even the air felt like magic. This moment was one she’d been thinking and dreaming of since she’d first opened her door and seen him on her porch. Slowly sitting up, she dragged the palms of her hands across his chest and loved the flash of something hot and dark that shot through his eyes.

Isabelle felt a rush of sexual power that ratcheted higher and higher inside her as she went up on her knees and slowly, slowly, lowered herself onto him. She took his hard, thick length inside, inch by glorious inch, and when he was filling her completely, she sighed and reveled in everything she was feeling.

He reached up, covering her breasts with his hands, tweaking and tugging at her nipples until she groaned and twisted her body in response. That movement sent shock waves rippling through her system and made her want to feel more, to feel it all.

Unable to wait a moment longer to experience the release clamoring inside her, Isabelle moved on him, rocking up and down in a slow, rhythmic dance that created tingles that rose up and burst and rose up again. She lifted her arms high over her head, giving herself over to what was happening, and the feel of his hands on her breasts only fed the fire that burned brightly inside her.

Then his hands dropped to her hips and guided her into a faster pace. His gaze locked on hers, they stared into each other’s eyes as they claimed each other in the most intimate way possible. The tingle at her core became an incessant burn that ached and ached, pushing her toward the release she needed. And when Isabelle felt she couldn’t take it a moment more, the needing, the desire, he shifted one hand to her center and rubbed that sensitive nub at her core.

“Wes!” She cried his name but kept moving on him, kept rocking, twisting her hips in a blind effort to take him higher, deeper. That bone-deep ache intensified as they moved together in a dance as ancient as time, and when her body exploded, shattering into a fusillade of color and sensation, Isabelle clung to his forearms and rode the wave to the end.

Only then, when she was shaking and shivering, did Wes let himself follow. She stared into his eyes and watched as he surrendered himself to her. Gave himself to her.

And she wished, from the bottom of her heart, that that surrender was complete.

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