Christmas at the Castello(27)

When her other nipple was a hard pebble beneath his teeth, he  straightened and studied his handiwork. The distended, engorged tips of  her beautiful breasts made him so hard he had trouble focusing. But he  knew his wife needed warming up before he took her, and somewhere he  found a shaky sense of self-control.

He kept his eyes on hers as he worked her thighs apart and sought out  the delicate button at the heart of her. Her ebony eyes went a molten  chocolate brown as he rubbed her between his fingers.

"God, Coburn..."

He pressed his thumb against her in tiny, circular movements that had  her eyes drooping shut as pleasure consumed her. "Look at me," he  commanded, stilling his movement. She opened them, hot color claiming  her cheeks. Slowly, sensuously, he worked her, watching her orgasm build  in her eyes.

Satisfaction lanced through him. "That's the way I want you, sweetheart, wide-open, so I can see every part of you."

She was too far gone to respond. He moved his thumb against her harder,  faster, until she threw back her head, a shudder raking through her.

He shoved his shorts off and pulled her to the edge of the counter. Her  thighs were trembling as he wrapped them around him and entered her  with an insistent surge that took him all the way to her core. Her moan  was pure satisfaction.

The sensation of being encased in velvety, hot muscle overwhelmed his  control. In less than a dozen hard strokes, he found his release, his  hips jerking hard against her as he spilled himself inside her.

Her name as he uttered it on a low, urgent groan sounded like the  desperate plea of a man who wanted everything he couldn't have.





  CHAPTER TWELVE

GOD, SHE LOVED New York in the fall.

Diana smiled at the little terrier kicking up the red-and-orange-hued  leaves on the sidewalk of their Chelsea neighborhood, sidestepped the  frantic little pup and made her way toward the butcher shop. An  extravaganza of color bursting with promise-that was what New York was  like at this time of the year. She couldn't get enough of it.

If it was the last place she'd expected to be, and she'd given up her  dream of Africa, she now knew everything happened for a reason. She and  Coburn clashing that night on his balcony, conceiving their baby, had  been meant to make them face their feelings. To pull them back from the  brink before it was too late for them.

She pulled open the door of the butcher shop, musical chimes announcing  her arrival to the handful of customers in the store. She and Coburn  had been home for three weeks now, during which time she'd transplanted  her life back to Manhattan, focused on supporting her husband through  what might be the biggest challenge of his career with this recall and  bought a new home in Chelsea.

After grudgingly agreeing to go see the insanely expensive town house  Coburn's business acquaintance was selling, she'd fallen in love with  the wildflower garden in the back rather than the extensive entertaining  spaces and gleaming kitchen. She'd also come to love Chelsea. Coburn  was right. It was the perfect place to bring up a child: vibrant, hip  and family friendly, miles away from the very proper environment she'd  been raised in. And maybe she needed that-to start over in every way  with her husband.

She gave the butcher her order for the dinner they had planned with  Frankie and Harrison and sat on a stool by the window to wait. Something  had happened the night she and Coburn had come together in that raging  storm that had electrified them both. She had finally penetrated the  rock-hard exterior he'd adopted. Maybe not as completely as he had  scaled her defenses, because her husband was now a complex enigma of a  man she wasn't sure she'd ever know entirely. But she did know when he  expressed true emotion.

It had ruled him in the kitchen that morning on the island when he'd  confided in her about the recall and taken her with a desperate need he  couldn't hide. Since then, he'd been letting her in. He was allowing her  to support him through this crisis. It was clear he wanted, needed her  on a level that was more than just sex. What that was, exactly, she  wasn't sure. It was the piece still tugging at her gut.         

     



 

She turned her attention to the stream of passersby, tucked into  jackets and sweaters to ward off the chill. She couldn't deny it was  strange to be running domestic errands instead of battling her way  through a list of cases in the OR. She missed it. She missed it as if a  piece of her identity had been stripped away. But she also knew this  break had been good for her. She'd needed to take a step back and think  about what she really wanted. Rescuing James on that cliff that night  had confirmed everything about why she'd become a doctor. She needed to  get back to that feeling, to that soul-deep confirmation that what she  did mattered.

But right now her husband needed her. Her marriage had to come first  for the next few months until her husband weathered this crisis.

Coburn's words on the way home from the Kents that night had stayed  with her. She couldn't spend her life allowing what-ifs to rule. She'd  spent her entire marriage doing that. Wondering every time she and  Coburn had an argument if he was going to leave. Petrified he would.  She'd crippled them before they'd even gotten started. And it hadn't  just been her marriage. She'd spent her life afraid to put herself out  there. Afraid to say what she really wanted. Burying her identity in a  job she couldn't let go of because to do that meant she had to figure  out who she really was.

She was figuring that out now. This opportunity she had with Coburn to  make things right, to grab the happiness she knew they could have, was  about building a new foundation for her life based on what she wanted  for the future. On who she wanted to be. She needed to let her heart  rule, not the insecurities that had driven her her entire life.

She watched a woman walk by with her toddler son wobbling beside her in  a chunky knit sweater and pants, his hand tucked in hers. A throb  pulsed low in her abdomen. She wasn't messing her marriage up this time.  This time she was going to be the one to offer her all. And if the  thought of making herself that vulnerable made her want to throw up, so  be it.

"Diana-I thought that was you."

She looked up to find Frank Moritz, her mentor and the surgeon whose  pediatric fellowship she'd refused to beg for, making his way through  the door of the shop. She'd been so far in her head, she hadn't even  noticed him walk by.

He was as tall and dominating as ever, and there was a distinct  European twist to his mouth as he bent to give her a kiss on both  cheeks.

"I thought you were in Africa working. Or have I screwed up the timing?"

"No-" She hesitated. "My plans changed. I'm back in New York."

He fixed her with one of his trademark aggressive studies. "Well,  that's an interesting development. I wanted you for the fellowship. Why  didn't you compete?"

She swallowed. Lifted her chin. No time like the present to start speaking her mind...

"I thought my work spoke for itself. I didn't want to win a popularity  contest with you, Frank. I wanted you to choose the surgeon who deserved  it."

He kept up that level stare, as if deciding whether or not to take the  insult. Finally he inclined his head. "You were the best. I wasn't happy  with any of the applicants. It's still open if you want it."

Her heart sped up in her chest. Oh, my God. Then the reality of her  situation kicked in. She was pregnant. Even if she told him the facts  and he was okay with her taking a few weeks off to have the baby, it  would be an excessively short period for her to bond with her child.  Nothing as Coburn had envisioned.

She dipped her chin. "I'm not sure it's the right timing for me."

His gaze narrowed. "You know what this fellowship is worth, Diana. The  window is narrow. I've got to make a decision by the end of the month.  Think about it."

How could she not? It had been her dream to work with him.

She nodded. "I'll think about it."

His cool blue gaze rested on her face. "Tell that possessive husband of  yours it's only a couple of years. He can have you back after that."

Or not. Coburn would lose his mind if she brought this up. She wasn't going to say anything until she'd thought it through.         

     



 

Frank glanced at his watch. "I must go. You know where to find me. I'm glad I ran into you."

She felt as if a train had hit her as his tall figure disappeared  through the glass door. Fate was being very cruel. To offer her her  dream at this crucial point in her marriage with a baby on the way? When  she'd finally come to peace with her circumstances? What was this  particular test supposed to accomplish?

Head spinning, she collected her shopping and walked home to Coburn's  apartment they were still sharing until the house was ready. He got home  ten minutes before Frankie and Harrison were due to arrive, dark  shadows under his eyes as he dropped his briefcase to the floor.