“I’m sure he was feeling regretful about having hurt you.”
That made her sob harder.
“I’m sorry,” he said, stroking her arms and back. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No. No, it’s true. I suppose some people would feel vindicated that he felt guilty on the day he died, but I think it’s just...”
“Terrible,” Ryan finished for her. “I understand.”
“Do you?” she asked wetly, leaning back slightly in order to see his face. His features looked like they’d been carved from rock in the dim lights emanating from the dashboard.
“Yeah. I think we both know that while Jesse might not have been ideal husband material, he was a good guy in a lot of other areas of life. It’s got to be hard for you, thinking of him dying knowing that he’d done you wrong.”
“Exactly,” she whispered shakily.
“It’s still not your fault, Faith. You didn’t do anything wrong. You had every right to file for divorce once you learned he’d cheated on you, not once, but several times. It’s just that life took a rotten turn in the interim, and Jesse was killed. You have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about.”
“I know,” she said weakly. She touched the side of his neck along his hairline. His hair was a pleasure to her fingertips—crisp and soft at once. “I’m always telling myself I didn’t do anything wrong. I just wish I hadn’t told him about the divorce when he was about to...”
Ryan shook his head, his face now rigid with compassion. “You’re not all-seeing.” He cradled her jaw gently. She went still, utterly aware of the intimate contact. “Death is the same way. You can’t beat yourself up for things you don’t have any control over. All we can do is take what we’ve been given and make the best of it.”
His breath was warm and fragrant against her upturned lips and nose.
“I want to make the best of this, Faith—for whatever is happening between you and me,” he said, his voice like a rough caress. “Part of me feels guilty for making love to you last Christmas Eve, but I’m tired of apologizing for it, sick of beating myself up about it. How can I apologize when it felt so damn good...so damn right?”
And suddenly his mouth was covering hers, warm, firm and once again, Faith was lost in the sensual storm that was Ryan.
Chapter Four
No one kissed like he did, Faith thought dazedly. His mouth felt like it was made to fit hers. He plucked at her with movements that struck her as languorous and demanding at once; he sandwiched her lower lip between his and bit at the sensitive flesh lightly, making her gasp. When she opened her mouth, he slid his tongue between her lips, a sleek, sensual invader. Ripples of pleasure cascaded down her spine.
He made a sound of male gratification as he tasted her, sweeping his tongue everywhere, exploring her...possessing her. Faith responded in the only way her muddled brain and buzzing body seemed to know how to respond to Ryan’s sensual assaults—wholeheartedly. She tangled her tongue with his, absorbing his flavor, feeling their kiss in the very core of her being. She’d noticed that pregnancy had made her body extra sensitive, her sense of smell and taste more acute, her breasts plagued by a dull, not unpleasant ache.
Adding Ryan to the formula only seemed to amp up her sensitivities to a whole new level of feeling.
She tightened her hold on his hard shoulders, pulling herself toward him, pressing their upper bodies together. Feeling her breasts press against the solidness of his chest made her moan softly into his mouth. As if electrified by the sound, Ryan leaned into her further. His hands moved along the side of her body, molding his palms over her rib cage as if he wanted to feel her heartbeat. He touched the sides of her breasts and gave a low, tense moan, deepening their kiss. Pleasure rippled through her, the strength of it shocking her. Even through her coat and clothing, his caress had the power to make her forget her inhibitions and recall her elemental femininity all too well.
A shock went through his body. They broke apart. He cursed a second later when his thigh hit the gearshift.
“Are you all right?” Faith asked anxiously.
“Yeah. This just isn’t an ideal location for this,” he muttered, trying to arrange his long body in the seat. What this actually meant penetrated Faith’s lust-befuddled consciousness.
“It’s not the ideal situation for it, either,” she said starkly, leaning back, breaking their contact. She stared out the front window, letting her arms fall to her sides, regretting the loss of Ryan’s hard male body almost as much as she did the feeling of his hands sliding off her torso. She breathed deeply, trying to find some sanity. One second they’d been pressed together too tight to slip a match between them, and the next, they were sepa
rate...
...alone.
She suffered through a tense moment of silence before he spoke.
“Just because the situation is unusual doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”
She couldn’t help but give a bark of hysterical laughter. “Unusual? Don’t you think you’re stating it a bit mildly? I’m pregnant with my dead husband’s friend’s baby, whom I hardly know. I’d say that’s a bit more than unusual. Ryan? What are you doing?” she asked in amazement when he unfastened his seat belt and reached for the door handle.
“I’m walking you to the front door. We’ll talk about this more tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” she asked, eyes wide.