Sarah's Child Read online

  “Something like that.” He unzipped his pants and shoved them down, then knelt on the bed, between her relaxed thighs. “You’re my credit card; I don’t leave home without this.”

  She laughed, twining her arms around his neck as he lowered his weight to her. The laughter caught in her throat at the slow delicious shock of his entry, and he heard the little intake of breath she always gave when he took her. It was music to him, and he buried his face against her neck in sudden need, pulling her legs up around his waist. “I miss you like hell when I’m gone,” he said roughly, and with his confession he began thrusting deeply into her, reconfirming their partnership with the bond of their flesh.

  Sarah didn’t drive him to the airport; he preferred leaving his car there, so he’d always have ready transportation home or to the office without taking a taxi. Despite herself, tears glittered in her eyes as she kissed him good-bye at the door, and he swore softly, dropping the suitcase to take her in his arms again.

  “I’ll be back for Christmas, I promise,” he said, giving her a hard kiss. “You won’t have to spend the holiday alone.”

  As if she cared about the holiday! She hated for him to leave regardless of the time of year, or what holiday was coming up. She blinked back the tears and managed a shaky smile for him. “It’s all right. I’m just being silly.”

  It had to happen: he called at midnight on the twenty-third. “Chicago is having a blizzard,” he said with grim sarcasm. “All flights are grounded until this mess clears.”

  Sarah sat up in bed, clutching the telephone so hard that her fingers were white. “Any weather predictions?” she made herself ask with a fair amount of calm, though she’d been counting the hours until he’d be home again.

  “Early afternoon. I’ll call you when I have a definite flight.”

  She spent Christmas Eve moving restlessly around the apartment, adjusting ornaments on the small fragrant evergreen she’d put up for a Christmas tree, fluffing pillows and moving articles of furniture that seemed a fraction of an inch out of place. She’d worried about how Rome might feel about celebrating Christmas, when the holiday must bring painful memories for him of his two small sons and their wide-eyed excitement, their toys underfoot, the complete chaos they’d created every Christmas Day in their ecstasy over the presents they’d received. So far, she hadn’t detected any sign that he might be dreading the day, and she was keeping her fingers crossed that this would be a good holiday for him.

  She couldn’t wait for him to get home; she felt more on edge than she’d ever been before while he was gone, and she knew it was because of what he’d said while he’d been making love to her that last time. “I miss you like hell when I’m gone…” It was the only indication he’d ever given her that he might dislike leaving her while he went on a business trip. She’d always assumed that he even looked forward to the trips to give himself a break away from her. But if he missed her…

  She tried to caution herself against hoping too much. Rome was so virile, he could have meant merely that he missed making love to her. But what if he was missing her, her companionship, the things they shared? Her heart was thumping crazily in her chest at the thought. Christmas was the season of miracles, after all.

  The waiting made her restless, and she thought of going down to visit Marcie, but she didn’t want to intrude during the holiday, and she was afraid she’d miss Rome’s call. She baked an apple pie for him and put clean sheets on their beds.

  The phone rang, and she nearly broke her neck getting to it, tripping over her own feet. Snatching up the receiver, she said breathlessly, “Hello.”

  “My flight is supposed to be leaving within the hour,” he said, his deep voice making her knees go weak even over the telephone lines. “But everything’s stacked up, so it’ll probably be later than that. I estimate I’ll be home close to midnight. Don’t wait up for me, baby. Go on to bed.”

  “I…maybe,” she stammered, knowing that she’d still be awake even if he didn’t get in until midnight the next night.

  He laughed, a low promising sound that made her swallow. “All right, then, stay awake. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

  It was just after eleven that night when she heard his key in the lock. She jumped up from the table, where she’d been sitting nursing a cup of hot chocolate, and ran to meet him. He dropped his suitcase with a thud and caught her as she launched herself into his arms; then he kissed her, so long and hard and thoroughly that she shuddered and pressed herself against him.

  His eyes glinting, he released her and rubbed his shadowed jaw with his hand. “I need a shower and a shave, in that order. I spent the night at the airport, so I’m pretty grimy. Go to bed; I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, tops.”

  Sarah poured out the rest of the hot chocolate and turned out the lights, then went to her bedroom. She sat down on her bed and clasped her hands tightly together when she noticed how they were trembling. He was home. In only a few more minutes, he’d be in here, in the bed with her, and he’d make love to her as if he’d like to devour her. Then…then what? Would he make another tantalizing confession, another small indication that his feelings for her were deepening? Or would he silently hold her until she pretended to fall asleep, then go to his own solitary bed?

  She sucked in a painful breath at the thought, and suddenly she knew that she couldn’t bear for him to walk away from her again after making love to her. She was on her feet before she realized what she was doing; if anyone left afterward, it would be her. That way she wouldn’t have to watch his back as he left. If, when the loving was finished, he didn’t make any indication that he wanted more, then she could kiss him good night and calmly leave his bed without looking back. She couldn’t lie there any longer, waiting for him to break her heart by leaving.

  He came out of his bathroom just as she opened his door and walked in, and he lifted a black brow at her in astonishment. “In a hurry?” he drawled, dropping the towel that he held to the floor.

  Sarah looked at him, at his tall hard body, and her mouth went dry. “Yes,” she whispered, pulling her nightgown over her head and dropping it to the floor also.

  He walked past her and threw the covers to the foot of his bed, then extended his hand to her in silent invitation. She walked into his arms.

  He told her a lot of things: he told her how much he wanted her, what he wanted to do to her, what he liked for her to do to him. His whispers were raw, elemental with need. He told her how sleek and pretty her body was, how he wanted to bury himself in her, how it felt when he took her. But he didn’t tell her the one thing she needed most to hear.

  When his tumultuous passion had been satisfied, he lay sprawled on the bed, stroking her back with lazy possessiveness. Quivering inside, she knew that she had to leave now, while he was still content and drowsy, before the familiar impatience began eating at him. Lifting herself to her elbow, she kissed him quickly and whispered “Good night,” then left the bed before he could react.

  Rome’s eyes snapped open, and he watched her scoop up her nightgown, then practically run out the door. Grim lines of tension settled around his mouth. As much as he wanted her, as crazy as he went when he was making love to her, he always dreaded when it was over because he knew she would withdraw from him, curling away from him and pretending to go to sleep so he would leave. But at least she usually wanted to cuddle, and he could hold her in his arms a little longer; tonight, despite the wild response of her slim body when he’d made love to her, she hadn’t even lingered for a moment of gentle caresses. Sometimes, when her eyes lit up at the sight of him, when she clung desperately to him in the heat of passion, he’d think that he was making progress, slowly beating down her defenses and getting to the soft, warm woman behind them. But then she’d withdraw from him again, as if she had to compensate for any gains he might have made.

  Sex with her was fantastic…more than fantastic. The physical awareness, the passion between them, was so intense, it overshadowed every se