His Best Friend’s Baby Read online

  He shrugged. “I feel responsible.”

  “I know you do. It’s the kind of man you are.” She settled against the rock that formed the back of their lean-to. “From everything I know about Deke Cunningham, I’m guessing he can protect Irina.”

  “Yeah. He can.”

  For several minutes, they sat silently. Aimee could feel Matt’s tension. Was he still kicking himself? She figured it was time to change the subject.

  She looked around at the shelter he’d built. “I guess this is how the first Americans lived for hundreds of years.”

  “Thousands. Yeah. We’re soft these days.”

  “Not you,” she said, poking his bicep with her finger.

  He laughed, a soft rumbling sound. “Yeah, me.”

  She lay her hand on his arm. “Not you,” she murmured.

  His gaze snapped to hers. Even in the near blackness, his dark eyes picked up a reflection from somewhere. And in that reflection was the thing that had been born of their necessary closeness in the shelter the night before. The awareness that they were not just two people bound by their love for his friend and her husband.

  Aimee cringed at what she’d done. One poke might have been just an innocent gesture. One teasing touch could be ascribed to friendship. But she’d touched him twice. She’d lingered.

  That was no innocent gesture.

  After the awkward silence had swelled to uncomfortable proportions, he uttered a small chuckle. “Oh? Well, what about you? You aren’t looking so bad.” He slid his hand along the line of her shoulder and upper arm. “A little on this side of skinny.”

  That was all. Yet her body burned as if he’d trailed hot fingers over its entire length.

  “My guess is you’ve got some fair-sized biceps yourself.”

  Aimee moistened her lips.

  Innocent teasing, she told herself. That’s all it was. How long had it been since she’d felt like laughing, even a little bit? Other than when she played with William. Besides, she’d known Matt for most of her life. He was a friend.

  There might be a smidgen of sexual tension between them, the natural attraction between a man and a woman forced together by circumstance. That’s all this was.

  Natural. Understandable. Easily ignored.

  What could a little teasing hurt? It was better than sitting here in gloomy silence for hours. A little humor would help pass the time.

  She squeezed her fist and flexed her arm muscles. “Fair-sized biceps? I beg your pardon. Check this out.”

  His fingers closed around her biceps—it felt like they completely circled her upper arm.

  “Yeah,” he said softly. “You’re a regular American Gladiator.”

  His breath fanned her cheek. He was that close.

  Aimee had no idea what to do next. However, apparently he did. He let go of her arm and slid his hand around her shoulders.

  “Here.” His voice rumbled through her like the purr of a lion. “We can keep each other warm.”

  His arm was firm and big and comforting, and his body radiated heat. Aimee was tempted to tuck herself into the warm, safe nook created by his torso and arm.

  He pulled her closer.

  She sighed and gave in to temptation, relaxing against him.

  His breaths ruffled her hair. She raised her head, wanting to feel him breathing on her skin. When she did, her nose brushed his chin, and she breathed in his scent. He smelled of snow and evergreen, with a hint of smokiness. It plummeted her back to the night before and his warm embrace.

  Her breath caught.

  He uttered a small moan, deep in his throat, and then pressed his forehead against hers and slid his fingers up her shoulder to cradle the back of her head.

  “Aimee—”

  Her heart fluttered—with fear or desire, she wasn’t sure. She had no idea what he was going to do or say. She had no idea what she wanted him to do or say. As far as she was concerned, they could sit like this for the next three hours.

  She was pretty sure that three hours of Matt’s full attention would bolster not only her courage, but her energy and her resolve, as well.

  “Aimee, I need to tell you something.”

  She rolled her forehead from side to side against his. “No, you don’t.” Don’t ruin this moment with reality. Don’t make it anything more than it is. A stolen instant out of time.

  “I do. I need to expl—”

  She kissed him. Just grabbed his face between her hands and—smack. No hesitation, no nips or teases or nibbles. Just a full-on, openmouthed kiss.

  And she did it because sitting here in this dangerous, tense situation, pursued by men who could be working for the most ruthless terrorist on the planet, waiting for nightfall so they could rescue her seven-month-old baby, she still felt safer than she had in years.

  She didn’t want him to jerk her back to reality with guilt-ridden explanations about why he didn’t go to Bill’s funeral, or come back for William’s christening.

  She knew how guilty and responsible he felt. She knew because he was that kind of guy. He took the heat, the hits, the blame. Not in some arrogant, look-how-responsible-I-am way, either. When he succeeded, he did so quietly, without fanfare.

  When he failed, he handled that quietly, as well.

  By the time all that had flitted through Aimee’s head, Matt’s initial shock had faded.

  He leaned forward and kissed her back. As fully and enthusiastically as she’d kissed him. He didn’t waste any time hesitating or testing her reaction.

  He kissed her.

  And she discovered that beneath Matt’s ordinary-guy veneer ran an undercurrent of passion, need and sexual hunger far greater than she’d imagined. His heart beat strongly, rapidly, vibrating through her as his mouth moved over hers with authority and exquisite gentleness. A thrill of unexpected desire pulsed through her all the way to her core. She leaned closer, yielding to the promise of his kiss.

  But then he stopped. He lifted his head and hovered there, his lips so close to hers that their warmth still lingered on her mouth.

  “Matt?”

  He was frowning, his eyes as black as coals. “What are we doing?” he whispered.

  Chapter Nine

  SATURDAY 1700 HOURS

  A twinge of uncertainty embedded itself beneath Aimee’s breastbone at Matt’s question.

  Don’t ask what we’re doing, she wanted to say. Don’t make it more than it is—or less.

  But she didn’t have the courage to say that, so she tried to make light of it.

  “Staying warm?” Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, so that she saw the uncertainty there.

  He smiled, but the worry didn’t leave his eyes. His gaze roamed over her face, as if he were searching for something. “I’d really like to talk to you about—”

  Aimee put her fingers over his mouth. “Please don’t. Not now. I need to concentrate on William.”

  “Sure. Of course.” He pulled away. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t do that. Don’t get all honorable and responsible on me.”

  “I’m confused,” he said. “I’m not sure what you want from me.”

  She took a deep breath. “I’m tired and cold and scared, and I’m feeling very alone.” She nibbled on her lower lip for a second. “Is it possible I want the same thing from you that you want from me?”

  Matt’s eyes widened, and then narrowed. He sat unmoving for a moment, and then touched her chin with his forefinger. “I never meant to come on to you. I didn’t intend to let this happen.”

  “I know that. Me, either. But it’s happening.” She looked down. “At least it is for me.”

  “Aimee—”

  She looked at him from under her lashes, hearing his unspoken plea. “Just hold me for a little while. Hold me and keep me warm.”

  “No problem,” he said with a sigh. “No problem at all.” He settled back against the rock and cradled her against his side. His other hand held her head against his chest, and she felt him pres
s a kiss against her hair.

  She could hear his heartbeat, steady and fast. After a few moments, Aimee felt his thumb sliding across her cheek in a rhythmic, sweet caress. She sighed and curled her fingers against his chest. When she did, his heart sped up and his breaths turned ragged.

  He stiffened, and she knew he was aroused. If she stirred, or if he did, she’d find out for sure just how turned on he was.

  IT SURPRISED HER just how much she wanted to find out.

  She knew Matt almost as well as she’d known her own husband. Probably better than any other man she’d ever met. He wanted her. His body told her that. But he would never act on those feelings.

  He valued honor and loyalty above all else. In his mind, acting on sexual feelings for his best friend’s widow was a betrayal of her trust in him.

  If she left it up to him, the stolen kiss and this warm embrace were as far as he would go. But even if she regretted it later, right now she wasn’t willing to stop.

  Heaven help her, she wanted more. Much more. The thought of touching him sent a thrill of desire humming through her. Her breath caught and her pulse raced.

  She turned her head and pressed a soft kiss to the sensitive underside of his chin, feeling a triumphant satisfaction when he gasped quietly. Then she shifted, to gain easier access to his mouth.

  For an instant, he sat still and unyielding, but she persisted, kissing his mouth and cheek, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  Finally, he dragged her across his lap and gave her back kiss for kiss, caress for caress, until both of them were out of breath.

  Matt lifted her again, and somehow she ended up lying on her back with him hovering over her. After a searching look, he lowered his head and kissed her again.

  She’d never experienced anything like the feeling of his mouth on hers, of his body pressed against hers. He was aggressive and gentle at the same time. Demanding and giving. He rested his weight on his elbows so he could look at her. His erection pulsed against her thigh.

  She slid her hand down his ridged abdomen until her palm found his hardness. The feel of his erection, firm and vibrant against her fingers, even through the barrier of his clothes, sent desire thrumming through her like a drumbeat.

  He shuddered, and she knew he was almost to the edge. He felt for the buttons on her pants while at the same time his tongue slid over the sensitive skin of her neck. When his teeth scraped her earlobe and his breath warmed her ear, her whole body contracted in erotic reaction.

  By the time she realized her pants were gone, his fingers were sliding inside the waistband of her underwear. Before he even touched her, she was gasping for breath.

  Then his fingers reached their goal. She cried out.

  He stopped, but she moaned in protest. “Matt, please. I need to feel you, too.”

  His dark eyes searched her face. Then he sat up, disposed of his pants, and stretched his length against her again.

  Her backside was cold, pressed against the poor insulation of a thin blanket, but Matt’s legs, his torso, his groin, radiated heat. His erection, hard against her, burned her skin with a delicious heat that turned her insides to liquid fire.

  She closed her fingers around him, feeling his velvety hardness jump in her hand. At the same time his fingers slid through her nether hair and raked gently along the folds that hid her center.

  She arched, the pleasure almost painful in its intensity. Pleasure she hadn’t felt for far too long.

  He teased her there, circling and coaxing, dipping and withdrawing, again and again, as his mouth traveled from her neck to her collarbone and on, to find the tip of her breast and nip at it through the thin silk of her long-sleeved pullover.

  Then he lifted himself and settled between her thighs. His rigid shaft rubbed against her, driving her desire. She opened to him, oblivious of the chilled air and the icy cold ground.

  Bending his head, he nibbled at her lips, then pulled back and looked into her eyes.

  “You okay?” he whispered.

  In answer, she arched her neck and reached for his mouth with hers. “I’m ready,” she whispered against his lips, knowing what he would know within seconds. Her core was liquifying, flowing, preparing to receive him.

  He looked deeply into her eyes as if searching for something, then with deliberate, torturous slowness, he sank into her.

  She moaned as his full length filled her and spread exquisite longing like golden, fluid light through her body. Enveloped in a haze of erotic sensation, all she could do was feel.

  He stayed there, buried in her, his face tucked into the hollow between her neck and shoulder, for an interminable time. The feel of his breath on her neck was, if possible, more intimate than the sensation of his hardness filling her. It was a gesture of surrender, of trust, she realized.

  He was blind with his eyes tucked into the darkness. He was vulnerable with his neck exposed to possible enemies. He was open, undefended.

  Her eyes filled with tears. She slid her hand around the nape of his neck, and turned her face toward his.

  Then he moved, and her body spasmed, sending electric shocks of pleasure tumbling through her. He slid out, out, until he hovered at her opening, then in to fill her again. The slow friction increased her wetness and made each successive thrust easier.

  Each time he pushed into her, he sped up slightly, his body coaxing hers to keep pace with him. He stayed suspended above her, watching her. She realized that he was gauging her response and tailoring his movements to hers.

  When she thought she would burst with anticipation, when her breasts were puckered and tight and her entire body felt electrified, he sat back on his haunches and pulled her legs atop his thighs. Then he held on to her waist and thrust again and again, filling her more completely and more deeply than she’d ever imagined possible.

  Faster, deeper.

  At last, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her upright. He held here there, suspended, until she whimpered with need, then lowered her onto him. His powerful thighs flexed as he thrust upward.

  Aimee gasped and cried out as a place inside her that had never been touched shattered. Matt kissed her, swallowing her breathless cries. Then he came, too, violently and thoroughly, his jaw clenched and his eyes squeezed shut as he poured everything into her.

  With one last powerful thrust, he rocked with her and against her, continuing the dance as their climax faded.

  After a few seconds of sitting there, draped against each other in the afterglow of sexual fulfillment, he splayed his fingers over her back again and gently lowered her to the ground, following her and settling beside her.

  She lay her head on his shoulder as tears filled her eyes and ran over the bridge of her nose.

  He touched one with his thumb and smeared it across her cheek. “What’s happening here?” he said tenderly. “Is something wrong?”

  She shook her head slightly. “No. Nothing.”

  He kissed her forehead while his thumb swirled over her skin, spreading and drying the dampness.

  “Then why are you crying?”

  She shrugged and bit her lip to keep from saying because this is a special occasion.

  MATT WOKE UP cold and stiff. Something sharp was poking him in the back. Something soft and sweet-smelling was pressed against his chest and side. He’d been dreaming about Aimee.

  Aimee. He opened his eyes and discovered that his dream had come true. She was asleep with her head on his chest. Her brown hair was wavy and soft, and it tickled his nose. He’d kissed that hair, that brow, those lips.

  Carefully, he lifted his arm and glanced at his watch. Almost seven. They’d slept for over two hours. The realization disturbed him. He’d left himself—and, more importantly, Aimee—vulnerable and exposed. The makeshift shelter was a pathetic cover. Had anyone happened by, they’d have been caught or killed.

  He lay still for a moment and listened. He heard nothing but the wind whistling through the naked tree branches, and the muffled
silence of falling snow. Occasionally, he heard a branch crack and fall, weighted down by snow and ice.

  Aimee stirred and murmured something in her sleep. Matt ran his palm lightly down her silk-covered arm as his heart squeezed in regret.

  He’d done worse than leave her vulnerable by falling asleep on watch. He’d taken advantage of her by making love with her. She was completely dependent on him to keep her safe. She was frightened for her baby. And he’d promised to take care of her.

  Instead, he’d let his feelings get involved. He’d acted on his personal desire, rather than in her and her baby’s best interest. He’d relaxed his vigilance and put her in danger.

  Despite his self-recrimination, his brain replayed the highlights of those few stolen moments—the supple firmness of her skin, her heavy breasts with their swollen nipples, the way she opened to him as he sank hilt-deep inside her.

  To his dismay, his erection grew and strained, the physical symbol of his betrayal of her. He’d never allowed himself to be close to her, afraid that she or Bill or someone who knew them would see the truth in his face—how smitten he’d always been with her. He’d never even admitted to himself how much he’d wanted her.

  Until now. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, forcing his brain back to his mission. Carefully, he slid his arm from around her and sat up.

  She stirred, so he pulled the corner of the mummy bag over his lap to hide his erection, disgusted with himself.

  She opened her eyes and looked at him in sleepy confusion. Then her eyes widened. He stared, mesmerized by the myriad emotions that flitted across her features.

  To his surprise, she didn’t turn away in disgust, or scream for help. Finally, she scraped her lower lip with her teeth and dropped her gaze.

  Embarrassed? Humiliated? Afraid?

  “Aimee, I’m sorry.”

  Her eyes snapped back up to lock with his. “Sorry?”

  He nodded miserably. “We need to dress. It’s almost dark, and I want to watch the cabin for a while before we make our move.”