Bound By A Baby. Maureen Child

down into her eyes, he entered her and Tula gasped at yet one more sensation. One more amazing invasion of her heart and mind and body. She held on to his shoulders and looked into dark brown eyes that were shadowed with secrets and shining with the same overpowering passion that held her in its grip. Again and again, his body claimed hers in the most intimate way possible. Again and again, she gave herself up to him, holding nothing back. Again and again, he pushed her higher and faster than she’d ever gone before.

      The mind-numbing, soul-shattering climax, when it rushed through her, was enough to steal what little breath she had left. Moments later, she felt his release pound through him and heard him groaning her name. Then he collapsed atop her, his breath wheezing from his lungs, his heartbeat hammering in his chest.

      Tula wrapped her arms around him and held him close, not wanting him to move yet. Not wanting to let go of the closeness that was somehow even more intimate than what they had just shared.

      What could have been minutes or hours passed in a sensual haze of completion. Finally, he lifted his head, met her gaze and gave her a smile that at once made him look sexy and playful. That one smile slipped inside her and gave her the last nudge she needed to take the slippery slide into something she feared was probably, heaven help her, love.

      “What is it?” he asked, voice quiet. “You look worried.”

      She was. Worried for her own sanity. Her own well-being. Falling in love with Simon would be a huge mistake, Tula thought grimly, so she just wouldn’t do it. She would refuse to take that last step. It wouldn’t be easy, she knew, but protecting herself was too important. Instinctively she realized she needed protection, too. Because loving and losing Simon would be enough to devastate her.

      “Worried?” she echoed lamely, scrambling for something to say.

      “I used protection,” he assured her. “You weren’t really paying attention, but I did.”

      “Oh. Thanks,” she said, though a part of her wondered if it might not have been better if he hadn’t. Then she would have had a chance at having a baby of her own. A child that would help fill the hole that losing Nathan was going to dig in her heart.

      “Tula—” He pushed himself up on his elbows, took a breath and said, “We should talk about what just happened.”

      “Do we have to?” she asked, hating for this time to end with what couldn’t possibly be good news. Whenever a man told a woman they had to talk, it was rarely to say, “Boy, that was great, I’m really happy.”

      He rolled to one side, and the chill in the room settled over her skin the moment he left her. He stacked pillows against the headboard and leaned back, his gaze on her. “Yeah. We do. Look, this was…inevitable, I think.”

      “Like death and taxes you mean?” she muttered, already hating how this conversation was going.

      “You know what I’m talking about.”

      “Yeah, I do. And you’re right,” she sighed in agreement and sat up beside him on the bed.

      He was sprawled naked, completely at ease. But Tula was suddenly feeling a little fragile. A little exposed. So she grabbed the edge of the quilt and tossed it over her, covering herself from breasts to knees. “Simon, you don’t have to feel guilty or make a speech. I wanted this, too. You didn’t seduce me into anything.”

      “I know.”

      “Well,” she said with a small, self-conscious laugh. “Thanks for noticing.”

      “Not the point, Tula,” he said. “The point is, we’re still involved over Nathan and I want to make sure we understand each other.”

      She turned her head to look at him. “What are you talking about?”

      Frowning, he pushed one hand through his hair. “Just that, you hold the strings when it comes to Nathan’s custody.”

      She nodded, unable to look away from his eyes, once so warm and now looking as cold as the damp winter night outside. Somehow, he had taken a step away from her without actually leaving her side. Amazing that he could pull that off naked, but he managed.

      “I don’t want this,” he continued, voice hard and flat, “what just happened here between us, to affect that.”

      Stunned, Tula could only stare at him, dumbfounded. This was not what she had been expecting. She’d thought that he was about to deliver the old, that-was-a-mistake-that-won’t-be-repeated speech. Instead, he was intimating… “What?”

      His mouth flattened into a grim line and that one eyebrow lifted. Surprisingly, she found it far less charming this time.

      “Are you serious?” she demanded, indignant fury driving her words. “You really think I’m the kind of person who would use this against you somehow?”

      “I didn’t say that.”

      “Oh, yes you did,” she told him, tossing the quilt aside and scooting off the bed. She grabbed her jeans and pulled them on over bare skin when she couldn’t spot her lace thong. “I can’t believe this. After what we just did, you could think that I, how could you think that? Amazing. And I’m so stupid. I should have seen this coming.”

      “Just wait a damn minute—”

      She glanced at him over her shoulder. “That is about the most insulting thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

      “I wasn’t trying to insult you.”

      “So it’s just a bonus then.”

      He climbed off the bed and went to grab his own jeans. Tugging them on, he said in a patient, calm tone that made her want to throw something, “Tula, you’re overreacting. We’re two adults, we should be able to talk about this without getting emotional.”

      “Emotional? Oh, could I show you emotional. Right now I want to throw something at that swelled head of yours.”

      “Not helpful,” he pointed out, then looked around as if judging what she might grab and hurl at him.

      “There’s one of the differences between us, Simon,” she snapped, whipping her head around to glare at him as she grabbed up her sweater. “Throwing things sounds very helpful to me right now. See, I’m not afraid to get emotional.”

      “What the hell are you talking about?” Now it was his turn to look insulted. “Who said I was afraid? This isn’t even about fear.”

      “Really? Looks that way to me. My God, Simon.” She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes on him. Shaking her head, she said, “You relaxed for like what? Twenty minutes? Was I on your schedule? Did you pencil me in—Sex with Tula—then back to business?”

      “Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered.

      “Oh, now I’m ridiculous,” she echoed, tossing both hands high then letting them fall. “You’re the one making this into something it never was. This little speech you’re making isn’t about Nathan at all. It’s about you backing away from allowing yourself to feel something genuine.”

      “Please.” He scoffed at her and that one eyebrow winged up. “This isn’t about feelings, Tula. We both had an itch and we scratched it. That’s all.”

      She hissed in a breath and her eyes narrowed even farther until the slits were so tiny it was practically a miracle she could see him at all. “An itch? That’s what you call what just happened?”

      “What do you call it?” he asked.

      Good question. She wasn’t about to call it anything nice now. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. So instead, she ignored the subject entirely. “Honestly, Simon, the very minute you felt close to me at all, you pulled back and hid behind that stiff, businessman persona you wear as if it were just another three-piece suit.”

      “Excuse me?”

      “Oh,”