Bittersweet Chocolate (34 page)

He used his hands to soap and wash her body, and struggled to keep his touch impersonal. Hands dropping away, she stepped beneath the cascade of water, rinsed off, and stepped from the stall. Wrapping a bath sheet around her body, she left the bathroom.

A quick wash and towel dry, Tristan hurried to join her and found her curled up in the center of the bed, asleep. He removed the towel draped around his hips, dried lingering moisture from her body, and pulled the covers up over her. She never stirred.

He’d expected her to be waiting for him. Clearly, this early stage of pregnancy was taking its toll, and with six months to go, he didn’t think he possessed that much self-control. Climbing into bed, he drew her into his arms. Hands resting on her abdomen, he drifted off to sleep.

His first conscious thought seemed surreal, but then his groin muscles tightened, and his eyes flew open. In the half light of dawn, he could see her poised over him. It wasn’t a dream.

“Hell, Rissa.”

She lifted her head. “We didn’t finish. You let me go to sleep,” she accused before returning to her task, her mouth covering his glans, tongue teasing.

He closed his eyes in an attempt to diminish some of the sensation, but it didn’t help. “Baby, ease up.”

She kissed her way up his body, until she reached his nipples and paused. Fingertips circling, her tongue teased each tiny bud, and they pebbled beneath her touch. She smiled when his cock nudged her thighs and he groaned. Moving higher, she whispered against his mouth, “You know what I want.”

“Will I hurt the baby?”

“At this early stage, you won’t hurt either of us. Don’t make me beg.”

“Uh-uh, I like the begging.”

Shifting their positions, he eased her over facedown and straddled her legs. His hands moved over her lithe figure, kneading the smooth, firm contours of her ass. His thumbs trailed along its crease. She squirmed and wriggled beneath his touch, repositioning herself, ass raised, and knees apart.

He retrieved the K-Y, squeezed a dab onto his fingertips, and massaged the gel into the tight ring of muscle. One finger, probing. Two fingers, stretching, she pressed back on his fingers, her hands fisting the sheets. Cock replacing his fingers, prodding the tiny aperture. He made a slow, deliberate breach into all that tight heat, her sphincter flexing around him.

“All, Tris, don’t hold back.”

Thrusts slow and easy, he leaned down, nibbling her ear. “Baby, tell me you love me.” He struggled to control the savagery wanting out, while he waited for her response.

“Tris, please.”

“Say it.”

She turned her face to his and opened her eyes. “I love you, Tristan.”

He recaptured her mouth, his momentum accelerated, and her enticing moves kept pace. She tightened around him and every nerve in his body reacted to the force of her climax. His own gratifying release erupted into her seconds later.

Breathing erratic, he shifted his weight and collapsed beside her, contemplating the necessity of giving up this intimacy, regardless of what she said. He’d learn to control his impulses and temper her inclinations, because he refused to take chances with her or their child.

Regaining his composure, he spooned her body to his, relaxed, and whispered against her ear, “It gets better and better with you.”

“You’re my new addiction.”

Damn. After what he’d just vowed, hearing her say that, he’d never be able to resist her, if she insisted.

The sound of the alarm effectively ended the serene aftermath of lovemaking. He crawled out of bed, and she grumbled when he scooped her up and walked into the bathroom, reminding her the workday awaited them.

Two weeks later, in a quiet ceremony in Las Vegas, they were married. Vi and her current boyfriend as their only witnesses.

Marissa stood poised before the mirror, eyes wide, shaking her head.

The last few months had gone by without complications, yet she continued to put off the inevitable―buying maternity clothes. Her rationale was the longer she delayed and wore loose-fitting tops and dresses, and elastic waist, stretch slacks, Tristan wouldn’t notice how big she had become.

Girl, insecurities showing, get a grip.

Hell. Tristan married her, what more did she expect him to do to prove himself? More to the point, why should he have to? Her current rate of growth was her hang-up. She was disgusted, but he was enjoying every minute of her pregnancy, always holding her with his hands resting on her abdomen.

The first time he felt the baby move, he’d been disconcerted, but said it gave him a feeling of serenity and closeness with his son or daughter. He tried to adopt a carefree attitude of teasing and overindulgences in an attempt to lighten her moods. She suspected he knew her irrational insecurities lingered.

“He’s everywhere, or doing somersaults,” he’d joked, convinced their child was a boy.

* * * *

Vi teased Marissa unmercifully, but the progress of the pregnancy had become a concern. Marissa seemed quite large for her fifth month. She looked seven or eight months pregnant. Vi prayed nothing had gone wrong because it would devastate Marissa and Tristan if they lost this baby.

During their years of acquaintance, Vi never had seen Marissa so happy. What were the odds she’d conceive again, after the trauma she’d suffered? Further, the newness of seeing someone as fine as Tristan had worn off, he and Vi had become close, and she truly liked him. Her concern included him as much as Marissa. He’d become all that was good for Marissa.

Compelled to do something, Vi picked up the phone and tapped out Marissa’s number.

“Hello, this is Marissa.”

“Hey, little mommy, let’s do some shopping, today.”

“Little, pul-
lease.
And shopping, uh-uh.”

“Marissa, they have some nice maternity clothes out there. Let’s just go and look. Okay?”

“All right, but I’m not making any promises.”

“Deal.” With half the battle won, Vi’s next move was to find out when Marissa had her next scheduled doctor’s appointment.

Marissa seemed pleasantly surprised by the selections of quite chic maternity clothes in a variety of styles. Vi watched her purchase several outfits for work that were flattering to the figure, while maintaining the appearance of professionalism, tops and slacks for leisure that were doable.

“Hey, look at these. What do you think?” Vi held up several pieces of rather risqué lingerie and convinced Marissa to buy a few. Overall, Marissa appeared to enjoy her shopping spree.

“Marissa, when is your next checkup?”

“Next month. Why?”

“Hey, as auntie-to-be, I like to have progress reports.”

“Yes, Auntie Vi, I’ll keep you informed.”

Vi drove home debating whether she should share her suspicions with Tristan, or just wait and see what happened. It could turn out to be the baby’s position, which could mean a breech, or even transverse. But Doctor Carey planned to do a C-section, so neither position should be an issue. God, she didn’t know enough about pregnancy to be much help, but she intended to rectify her lack of knowledge, and soon. Like Tristan, she couldn’t bear the thought of losing Marissa.

By the time she drove into her garage, she couldn’t shake the feeling that one of her friends should be prepared if there should be bad news. Coming to a decision, she called Tristan.

* * * *

Only the middle of her sixth month, could she get any bigger.

Marissa frowned down at a date she had circled on her desk calendar. Hal’s retirement party, was that this month? Well hell, time she met the new boss. She did have choices to make.

The preliminary interviews had taken place while she’d been on vacation. Last time she and Hal had spoken about his retirement, he had narrowed it down to three candidates. That was at the time she discovered she was pregnant, had a wedding, and went on her honeymoon.

On her return, Hal had mentioned he’d made a decision. He might have told her the man’s name, duh. At least she did remember it was a man, but her drama trumped work issues. She didn’t ask anything about the person and didn’t know what to expect.

More to the point, she didn’t have to work. If the new boss didn’t mesh with her work ethics, she was out of there. No biggie.

Okay, she tapped the calendar page, now she remembered. Hal had asked management to hold his retirement party early because he would be in and out during the transition. Said he wouldn’t show up at all for his last month, if he didn’t have to acclimatize his replacement.

The day of the retirement party, Marissa arrived at work to find Megan waiting for her in her office, and she became suspicious. “What’s up, Megan?”

“Have you met the new boss yet?” Megan asked eagerly.

“No, have you―wait, you did. I’ve never seen you so excited,” Marissa teased. “Okay, give. What’s he like, what’s his name, and is he married?” She chuckled as she moved toward her desk.

Megan ticked off each point on her fingers. “Tall, powdered ginger skin tone, a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, good-looking, reddish-brown hair with touches of gray at his temples, and he’s divorced.”

“You picked up on all of that from one meeting, this morning?”

Megan nodded and giggled. “Need I say more?”

“What, no name?”

“Oh yeah, his name is Matthew Miller.”

Brow furrowed, Marissa stopped, and whirled around to face her secretary. “Did you say Matthew Miller?”

“Yeah, I thought Hal told you.”

“He might have, but I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”

Megan nodded. “Too true, but what’s up with the frown. Somebody you know.”

“Not sure. I knew a Matthew Miller, back in the day.” Shaking her head, she said, “Uh-uh, couldn’t be the same.” Turning back toward her desk, just as she sat down someone knocked on her door, then Hal entered, a broad smile lightening his heavy features.

“Marissa, I’d like you to meet your new boss.” The man behind Hal came into view and she froze. “Marissa Corbett...Matthew Miller,” Hal said by way of introductions.

A little off balance, she tried to smile as she extended her hand. She never expected to see him again. “Matthew. It’s been a long time,” she managed to say evenly.

“Marissa? Marissa Wells?” He seemed surprised, but Hal must have spoken of her.

“Uh...yeah, but it’s Corbett now.”

Matthew came across the room, but instead of taking her hand, he hugged her. She cringed but managed to maintain a neutral expression. He released her and she stepped away, lowering her eyes lest her distaste show.

“I can see you’re very married,” Matthew remarked, looking down at the protrusion of her abdomen. “But as beautiful as I remember.”

She stared at him, taking in his overall appearance, and couldn’t imagine what she’d ever seen in him. Maybe it had something to do with being fifteen and infatuated by an older guy.

Be fair, he’s good-looking enough, but since meeting Tristan.

Damn if her conscience wasn’t beginning to get on her last nerve.

“I gather you know each other.” Hal effectively broke in on her reflections.

“We’re both from Philadelphia.”

Hal beamed. “Good, that should make the transition easier.”

Exchanging a hasty glance with Marissa, Megan suggested, “Hal, I think we should join the party.”

Everyone had turned to leave the office when Matthew grabbed Marissa’s arm. “Can you stay afterward? I’d like to get reacquainted, hear about your life for the past twenty years, talk over old times.” He flashed a knowing grin. “We have unfinished business.”

Turning to face him, she looked down at the hand on her arm, then up at his face before she shook off his hold. She held his gaze, not wanting him to miss any nuance of her response. “I see you haven’t changed, Matthew. Neither have I, and you’d do well to remember that. We will be working together.”

“Oh-ho, more threats?” he responded, alluding to their last encounter.

“Threats...uh-uh.” Eyes narrowing, she stared at him, seeing, yet not seeing. “You know, it’s odd how certain things never change with some people, but let me remind you that you took my advice the last time. I suggest you do so again.”

Face flushed, he snapped, “I have the upper hand here. I’m the boss.”

“Hmm, let’s not test that hypothesis. You’d be in for a big surprise, if you try to get rid of me.” She smiled and stepped away from him, left her office, and caught up with Megan and Hal.

“You don’t like our new boss,” Megan whispered.

“I don’t like or dislike him. He’s not that important to me,” Marissa commented. “We had a bad encounter back in the day, and he didn’t come out of it looking too good.” She glanced at her secretary. “Watch yourself around him, Megan. He’s handsome, knows how to run a good game, and he likes his women young.”

“Ohh-kaay. I’ve worked for you for five years and never heard you express such an aversion to anybody. Your advice is duly noted.”

For the next few hours, Marissa sensed Matthew watching her as he moved from manager to manager, no doubt asking about her. She wished him luck. Old ass man still incapable of using the sense God gave him, if he thought he could scare her.

Hal said his farewells and the party had started to break up before Matthew caught up with Marissa and asked her to step into his office. “I hope I didn’t get off to a bad start earlier. Just kidding around like old times.”

Gaze steady, for a split second she wondered what he was up to. Then she dismissed it from mind. “I hope you were joking. I don’t intend to let you or anyone else force me out of a job I enjoy. Do recall how difficult it is to intimidate me.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Truce, let’s start over. Hal tells me you’re damn good at your job. I don’t want to lose you. When is the baby due?”

“In three months.” From his change of attitude, he must have asked around, discovered it wouldn’t be easy to get rid of her.

“How much time are you planning to take off?”