His Son, Her Secret(28)

Leona shaved her legs and let the hot water run. Today had been much  better than she had expected it to be, but still, a few hours of Percy  screaming had taken its toll.

She knew she wasn't going to fall into a deep slumber the moment her  head hit a pillow. All day long Byron had been giving her that look-the  same look he'd been giving her for weeks now, only a hundred times more  potent. That look said he couldn't wait to rip all her clothes off and  do bad, bad things to her.

And truthfully? She wanted-needed-to have some bad things done to her.  For a year, she'd locked down her sexuality. She'd been so danged  busy-untangling her life and May's life from her parents'  nose-to-the-grindstone rules, being pregnant, getting a job and being a  mother. She hadn't had time to even think about sex. And who would she  have had sex with, anyway?

A year's worth of sexual frustration threatened to swamp her. Being  touched by Byron every two weeks or so was simply not enough.

But what was he going to do tonight? Somehow, she didn't think it would  be a quick and satisfying coupling before they both passed out. As  tired as she was, the anticipation was more than enough to keep her  awake. Before, he'd been patient with her, kind and loving and he'd  never pushed her to do anything wild or kinky-all of which had made her  feel very safe.

But since he'd come back? Since he'd held her still on his lap and  whispered into her ear that she couldn't make a noise until he demanded  she tell him she wanted him to let her come?

That was something new. Something bad. And, God help her, it excited her.

She hurried through the rest of her shower and threw her clothes back  on. She didn't even get her hair dried. When she got back to Percy's  room-which was across the hall and down one doorway from the master  suite-Byron was just finishing up another story. Leona smiled at the  small pile of books that had grown next to the chair. "Sorry," she  murmured. At the sound of her voice, Percy twisted and started to fuss.

"We're fine," Byron assured her as he stood. "Have a good shower?"

She nodded, feeling the water drip off the ends of her short hair. When  she took her seat, Byron placed Percy back in her arms and whispered,  "I'll be right back."

Which turned out not to be the entire truth. The minutes passed slowly  as Percy nursed himself into an epic milk coma and she continued to  think.

What was she doing with Byron? She'd made this big fuss-this promise to  herself-that there would be separate bedrooms. That she would not fall  into his arms again.                       
       
           



       

And yet, Byron had basically reduced her to a quivering mass of need in  the middle of the driveway. There'd been a time when she'd coveted the  overnights in Byron's bed. It had felt like the ultimate act of  rebellion-not going home to her father's house at the end of a date, but  curling up under the covers with Byron and knowing she would have to  come up with some kind of believable lie to cover the fact that she was  sleeping with a man-and a Beaumont at that.

Oh, the lies she'd told to be with Byron. She'd claimed she'd had to  work late, that a friend of hers had asked her out to the bars and  gotten too drunk to get home safely, that the roads were bad. Whatever  she could make sound believable so her father wouldn't start sniffing  around.

Maybe she'd known it wouldn't last. Byron would find out, or her father  would-it was only a matter of time. She wanted to think that she'd been  preparing for the confrontation, that she would have stood up for  herself and for Byron and finally shaken her father off.

But then Percy had happened.

She looked down at her sweet baby boy, touching his face. She could  marry Byron. It wouldn't guarantee that they'd live happily ever after,  necessarily, but it was an important step in cementing their status as a  family. And it'd make it that much harder for her father to steamroller  his way back into her life.

Yes, she could marry Byron. That wasn't the question.

The question was, did she want to?

Would you have married me, if I'd asked a year ago?

That's what Byron had wanted to know. And she hadn't answered him.

But deep down, she knew. She knew that, had he asked-if she'd been  carrying his child and he'd asked her to be his forever-she would have  said yes.

When Byron appeared in the doorway, Leona startled and glanced at the  clock. It'd been over twenty minutes since he'd left. She started to get  up-Percy was pretty passed out-but Byron motioned for her to sit.  Grinning, he stood and watched as Leona finished up and patted Percy on  the back. What a change from the first time he'd seen her do this, when  he'd fled to the kitchen to make applesauce.

She carefully put Percy into his new crib. The baby was so passed out  he didn't even stir. Sleep, sweetie, Leona prayed. Sleep for Mommy and  Daddy.

Byron came in to stand next to her, his arm around her shoulders. There  was an intimacy to the moment. For the first time since Byron had  walked back into her life, she truly felt they were in this together. It  was such a relief that she wrapped her arm around his waist and held  him tight.

Byron checked to make sure the baby monitor was on and then whispered in her ear, "Come with me."

Desire spiked through her. Only Byron could to that to her-turn her on with three little words.

He led her out of the bedroom and up the hall to their bedroom. How  weird was that? Their bedroom. She'd slept over at his place, a small  apartment in an exclusive downtown complex, back when they'd been  dating. But that'd been his. She'd always had her own room, her own bed  to go back to.

Then the room registered. Byron had been busy while she'd been with  Percy. The drapes were closed and the room was alight with the soft glow  of candles, easily fifteen or twenty. Where had he gotten so many  candles? They were on the mantel over the fireplace, on the dressers,  and contained in tall glass jars on the night tables. The whole room  glowed. It was one of the more romantic things she'd ever seen.

"Wow," she said. "This is beautiful."

"I'm glad you like it. Turn around."

She gave him a look, but it had no effect on him. Instead, he leaned in  close enough to kiss her. But he didn't. He waited, his gaze searching  her face.

The anticipation sending spikes of need through her body ratcheted up another notch. She turned around.

"I wanted to do this the other night," he said, pulling her shirt over  her head and pushing her pants down so quickly that she barely had time  to register that she was in nothing but her panties.

"What?" she asked, nervousness and excitement fighting for control over  her stomach. The fact of the matter was, she didn't know what he was  going to do to her. But she was pretty sure she was going to like it.

Then the piece of black silk slipped over her eyes.

Fear flashed through her, temporarily pushing the anticipation into panic. "Byron?"

The tips of his fingers traced the contours of her back, soft and  gentle. "I just want you to feel this," he said, his voice right against  her ear. His breath warmed her skin. "I won't do anything you don't  want me to," he promised as he brushed her damp hair away from her neck.  His fingers moved over her shoulder-the lightest of touches that held  so much promise. Her skin broke out in goose bumps. "If you want me to  stop, I will."                       
       
           



       

She felt exposed. She couldn't see what Byron was doing and she wasn't  sure what, exactly, he wanted to do. Essentially, she was at his mercy.

He seemed to know what she was thinking. "Do you trust me?" She heard rustling.

Did she?

Before, when they'd become lovers, he'd taken his time with her. She'd  been the kind of inexperienced that only virgins could pull off, but  Byron had never rushed her. Once, they'd been making out hot and heavy  on his couch. He'd gotten her top off and his shirt, too and Leona had  finally decided to go through with it-right until he'd unbuttoned her  pants. Then she'd had this moment of terror that he was a Beaumont and  she was a Harper and what the hell was she thinking?

So she'd put the brakes on. Byron had hovered over her, his eyes closed  and his chest heaving with effort and she'd panicked because she'd  never allowed herself to get into this kind of situation, never before  been this vulnerable with a man, especially not a Beaumont. Beaumonts  were known for their womanizing ways-would that include forcing the  issue?

And then he'd sat back and put on his shirt. And when she'd gotten  dressed again, he'd pulled her into his arms and kissed her sweetly and  asked what she wanted to do tomorrow night. There'd been no guilt, no  pressure. She'd felt warm and safe and loved then.