Page 6 of Beau

Her ride had pulled up just then and she had left him standing there. It had taken him a week to get through to her.

“I should have doused her with the wine.”

“And you are avoiding the subject.” His fingers trailed their way over her left cheek. He was sated for the moment, but from past experiences, he knew it would not be that way for very long. “Darling, I am worried about you.”

“There is no need.” Her tone was unreasonably sharp, and she realized how defensive she sounded. “I am sorry.”

He nodded, green eyes probing her face.

“Stop looking at me like that," she muttered.

“Like what?” he asked gently.

“Like you want to delve into my soul.”

“I want to know what’s going on with you and try to ease your concerns.” His hands cupped her face. “That’s what I am here for.”

Tears blurred her vision, and she had to blink him into focus. “You know what I want.”

He stroked the tears away, his touch gentle. “It’s been barely a year. Darling, what is this about? Is living with me alone such a chore? We got married in a rush. I dragged you to the altar for fear of you changing your mind, and we decided that we would take the chance to get to know each other.

We have been doing so. I am just finding my way around the company, learning the intricacies, and it’s all because of you.” He traced her full bottom lip, eyes glazed with desire. She had such kissable lips and his many tastes of her would never be enough.

The first time he had kissed her, it had taken him by surprise. He had mastered the technique of kissing as he did everything else when it has to do with women.

And was generally the conqueror. But when he tasted her, it was like a narcotic coursing through his veins. He became addicted and just like that, his interest in other women had waned and then faded completely.

He almost went mad trying to find her, to discover if it was just a fluke. When he did find her and tasted it again, he wanted more. He craved more. It had angered him to realize that someonehad such power over him, and he had fought it blindly, without success.

“I love you. Unequivocally, more than I have ever loved anyone before. But I want our children, Beau. I want to be a mother. I want more than anything else to feel your baby growing inside my womb. I want you to understand why I do.

It’s the culmination of our love. I know you; we are still getting to discover things about each other every single day and no doubt, that will be happening as long as we both live. But I want this.” Her eyes turned pleading.

“I would like you to understand.” He tamped down the impatience. “And we are still newly-weds. I love the fact that you accompany me wherever I go. I love the trips we take, the adventure you make out of them. You quit your job, which I am beginning to wonder if that was such a good idea–”

“I don’t regret quitting my job," she said swiftly, shaking her head. “I love the charities I am involved with. Working with the disabled children gives me a sense of purpose. Whenever I go to the various group homes, I feel as if I am accomplishingsomething meaningful. I just want…” her voice petered off and he filled in the blanks.

“You want to be a mother.”

“Is that so unreasonable?”

“Because your sisters are mothers.”

She wanted to lash out at him for being such a damn man. “No Beau. I want to be a mother because I want our children. I want to see them being reared and brought up by us. I want a family with you. Why can’t you understand?”

“You are upset," he deduced. “And so am I. We have time–”

“I am going to be thirty-one next June and by my estimation, my biological clock has started ticking.” She waved an impatienthand. “I never thought about children—yes, I love them. I adore my nieces and nephews and spoil them rotten.

But before I met you, I took pleasure in my career. That has changed. I want something tangible. I have fallen in love with you despite my better judgment. Even though I fought it tooth and nail and I want this for us.”

He stared at her for a few seconds, before releasing her and rolling off the bed. She watched him furtively, her heart skipping a beat as he walked with that panther-like grace to the recessed cabinet. His bedroom had been a purely masculine one before she came into his life.

He had surprised her the first time she came here. Expecting a traditional loft, she had been pleasantly shocked to see that he resides in a house. He had confessed that the place belonged to his mother, and he had formed an attachment to it. He also had a townhouse for the obvious reasons and had never brought a woman here before.

“You are the first." he had told her solemnly and she believed him.

She had been reluctant to make changes, but he had insisted. “It’s going to be your home too; I want you to be comfortable.” The changes had been minimal, because the place was lovely as it was.