Secret Baby Scandal(16)

He allowed his gaze to roam over her the way his hands wanted to, which  was easier to do with her eyes closed and her head tipped back against a  neck pillow. Her loosened hair floated around her shoulders. She was  like a mermaid dragging him down to his doom. High, full breasts showed  above the surface, in easy reach of his mouth. And at this rate, he felt  as if the temperature in the hot tub had been cranked a few degrees  higher.

"Feels amazing." She still didn't open her eyes. "My body has been  through the wringer these last weeks. And not just from childbirth. Even  carrying him around...that sounds silly, I know." She straightened and  glanced over at him. "He's only nine pounds. But still, I'm not used to  the position and I get all kinked up."

She rolled her shoulders and then her neck.

He tightened his self-restraint, until it felt like an iron vise.

"Turn around." He caught one shoulder in his hand and guided her so that her back was to him. "I'm good at this."

"That's really not necessary," she protested, but when he got both  hands on those trapezius muscles, all objections ceased. "Ooh."

She melted beneath his touch. And while he would have liked it to be  even more intimate, it satisfied the hell out of him that he could give  her this pleasure.

"Relax," he urged her, shifting their positions so she sat between his legs. "This is going to help."

He felt her tense for a moment as her hip grazed the inside of his  thigh beneath the water. But then, as he worked his fingertips deeper  into the deltoid muscles, she went limp again, her head lolling forward  while he massaged her back and neck.

The bubbles rushed toward her skin and burst in an endless cycle of movement from the jets.

"I had no idea you possessed this skill." Her voice hummed through his  fingertips, the sound a vibration he could feel as he worked a kink from  her left side. "I've paid big bucks for professional massages that  haven't felt this good."                       
       
           



       

"Working with trainers really increased my awareness of the muscle  groups. I wouldn't have maintained a career for this long without good  sports therapy." He tried to focus on the conversation and not how good  she felt. How soft and supple beneath his hands.

And how good she smelled.

Even after the swim in the lake followed by the chlorinated spa tub, a  fragrant hint of lemons clung to her skin and hair. He breathed deep,  inhaling her scent as he molded her body with his touch.

"You get a lot of massages?" She tilted her head from side to side slowly before she turned to peer back at him.

"Yes, but not many of the kind that feel good. I tend to get the deep-tissue stuff that leaves bruises."

"Ouch." She winced in sympathy. "I'm sure I wouldn't like that."

"I don't always like it, either, but it can really help alleviate muscle strains."

"Like your triceps last season?"

"Exactly. I injured my arm when I hyperextended-hey. How did you know  about that?" He paused, looking over her shoulder to see her face.

The movement of the boat in the waves sloshed a little water out of the tub to spill on the deck.

"I might have been paying attention to some of your games." She spun  around to face him, her hair fanning out in the water as she whirled.  "That felt great by the way. Thank you."

"I like touching you," he said simply, surprised that she'd followed his career. "I always have."

One dark curl clung damply to her neck, snagging his eye. He slid a  finger beneath it, barely brushing her skin, intending to relocate the  strands behind her back. But that was before he felt the leap of her  pulse in her throat. A quick, erratic rhythm that he could almost see in  the tender column of her neck.

He didn't want to press her. But his hand didn't seem to be taking  instruction from his brain. He laid his palm against her damp skin to  get a better feel of that thready, anxious beat. Her eyes closed on  contact, her head tipping back in a way that brought her lips within  kissing range.

Sensual hunger washed over him like a rogue wave. He slid his fingers  around the base of her neck and steered her mouth to his. Warning bells  blared in his head that he couldn't let things get out of control like  last time. He knew that. So with every bit of willpower he possessed, he  kissed her gently. Softly, but with a lingering lick along her lower  lip. And a nip at the end because she had the most lush, inviting lips  he'd ever tasted.

But then, he let her go. Even though it cost him dearly, he untangled  his hand from her hair and released her. Sitting back in the tub with  wide eyes, her lips parted slightly, she looked as surprised as he felt.

There would be time enough for more, when she was ready. For now, he  had to let her come to him so that whatever happened next was her  choice. It was a good plan. Smart. Logical. And it didn't do a damn  thing to ease a body on fire for her. Taking deep breaths as he willed  his urges into submission, he knew he wouldn't be climbing out of that  hot tub anytime soon.





Six

"I can't believe you convinced me to bring César to this dinner party."  Flustered in every way possible, Tatiana navigated the whitewashed  stone walkway in kitten heels, holding tight to Jean-Pierre's arm out of  stress more than a need for balance.

They strode side by side up a pathway from his home to his brother's  residence, a huge mansion on the hill that she'd visited many times as a  teen. First with her father, when he'd spend time with Leon Reynaud  during the spring months to plan for their team, and later on her own  when she'd dated Jean-Pierre for those brief months in prep school.

Now, Gervais, the owner of the New Orleans Hurricanes and Jean-Pierre's  oldest brother, made the big house his own along with his soon-to-be  wife, Princess Erika Mitras. No doubt the home would be different than  Tatiana remembered. Normally, she would look forward to a visit like  this, but tonight there was so much stress riding on her shoulders she  couldn't work up the energy to be excited to meet royalty. Jean-Pierre  was getting under her skin, for one thing. Her whole body still hummed  from their too brief encounter on his boat, her every nerve ending now  sensually attuned to his touch. But worse than that, she was starting to  feel more than just attracted to him. His care and concern over her  well-being made her question what she knew about him. Made her rethink  all the reasons she was fighting her attraction.                       
       
           



       

And on top of everything else, he wanted to bring their newborn with them tonight. Not the reveal she had in mind.

"It's funny you think that, because I don't see you holding César."  Jean-Pierre wrapped his arm around her waist to steady her and she  couldn't think of a single good reason to pull away.

The kiss on the boat had shifted something between them, forcing her to admit they had a whole lot of unfinished business.

"I know." Her heart beat faster, her nerves twitching as they neared  the huge Greek revival mansion. Out front, a black Range Rover was  parked grille-to-grille across from a Ferrari. "But Lucinda will be  bringing him shortly. And it seems like a lot to bombard your brothers  with at once-telling them you have a son and then actually having them  meet a baby."

"Not just any baby." His voice held a note of unmistakable pride. "Our  son. And the first thing my brothers will ask once we tell them about  César is when they can meet him. Trust me. They would feel slighted if  we didn't introduce them to their nephew."

She peered up at him in the gray, single-breasted suit that he wore  exceedingly well. The white dress shirt, open at the neck and worn with  no tie, was his nod to a more casual gathering, but the man looked good  enough to touch, to eat. She could see the lines of the comb through his  hair, still damp from the shower he'd taken when they returned from the  boat, and her fingers ached to smooth over them.

"I'll let you take the conversational lead then." She had enough  worries just thinking about how to address a princess and how to assure  the rest of the Reynaud brothers that she didn't hold a grudge against  them the way her father did.

"Of course." He squeezed her gently, his grip tightening around her  waist and drawing her closer. "And don't be so tense or I'll have no  choice but to give you more massages."

A tingle of pleasure went through her, her whole body warming with a  sensual promise she shouldn't be feeling. Then again, she wasn't even  cleared for intimacy from her doctor, so it wasn't as though anything  would happen. Maybe she shouldn't be fighting this so hard-the massage,  the kisses, all of which she couldn't deny wanting.