When he stilled, he held her even tighter, groaned, and whispered, “
Foutre
. I forgot the condom.”
Chapter 18
Ciara didn’t move.
“I’m sorry,” Jean-Marc murmured, his addled brain swamped with consternation. “I don’t know what happened. I
never
forget.”
Collapsing onto the bed, he turned her in his arms, gathering her into an embrace. She wouldn’t look at him. Twin flags of scarlet dotted her pleasure-flushed cheeks. She appeared slightly shell-shocked.
Inwardly, he called himself every kind of name.
“Ciara,
mon ange
, I swear I’m— Don’t worry, I haven’t given you anything.” At that, her eyes darted to his. “Except...” he added with a blown-out breath, “of course, maybe, depending on if you...” He braced himself. “Do you take the pill?”
The flags grew redder. “No,” she whispered.
Merde
.
He wanted to curse long and hard. But then something very peculiar happened. A sudden feeling of intense pride blazed through him, and for one stark, unreal moment he wanted nothing more than for her to be carrying his child.
“You
spanked
me,” she whispered incredulously, breaking the uncharacteristic spell.
He cleared his throat, more than a little embarrassed. “Seemed like a good idea at the time,” he murmured, a bit defensively. The woman brought out things in him he’d never—
Dieu
.
“Is this some kind of clever new law enforcement strategy?” she asked with obvious pique, but settled her head on his shoulder. “Confess or I’ll spank you...”
Thank God she was regaining her sense of humor. Sort of. She seemed more dazed than upset. Denial? Denial worked for him.
“Well, you
have
been very naughty...” he ventured, testing the less daunting waters.
She didn’t whack him, so he raised her chin with his fingers and kissed her.
Her lips were soft and warm...and reluctant. But she didn’t pull away. A reprieve? He cradled her body and deepened the kiss. The tension in her limbs slowly seeped out and she wound her arms around his neck, letting him take his fill of her mouth.
“My God, Jean-Marc, you may have gotten me
pregnant
. Seems to me
you’re
the one who’s been naughty,” she murmured when their lips parted. “I should get to spank you.”
He swallowed and managed a half smile. “Wouldn’t want to assault an officer of the law. That’s a federal offense.”
“And what kind of offense is getting your prime suspect pregnant?” she asked pointedly.
He grimaced, growing somber. “A damn serious one.”
She held his career, as well as any chance at a conviction for
le Revenant
, in the palm of her hand—or the curve of her belly—and they both knew it.
He put his lips to her temple. “You going to report me?”
She lay quietly in his arms for so long he started making plans for what he’d do when he got kicked off the force. Unfortunately, everything he came up with involved bringing her and the baby along.
“I could never report you Jean-Marc,” she said at last, surprising the hell out of him. “That wouldn’t be fair. I seduced you, remember?”
“Which time?” he asked sardonically. A rhetorical question. It didn’t matter. He’d screwed up. Royally. Even if she didn’t report him, he’d have to report himself. Be removed from the case. Let someone else arrest her so the evidence wouldn’t be tainted by his monumental stupidity.
But the worst part was, he didn’t regret a thing he’d done. Not a single fucking thing.
He tipped her onto her back and canted his body over hers. He placed his hand between them, splayed his fingers over her belly. He felt the smooth dip of her abdomen, where his child might already be growing. And his passion bloomed. He kissed her, then lowered himself between her thighs and slid into her heat.
She made a noise and broke the kiss, gazing up at him uncertainly. She looked frightened, happy, hopeful...wary...all at the same time.
“Ciara,” he said, pushing himself deep inside her. “Let me take care of you. You don’t have to do what you’re doing. Quit, and come and live with me. I have plenty for all three of us.”
Her lips parted in disbelief, and again surprising him, her green eyes slowly filled. Then she tightened her arms around him and pulled him close. He couldn’t see her face, but her breath shuddered.
“Ciara? I’m serious—”
“Don’t,” she whispered. “You know it can never happen.”
She hooked her legs around his hips and took him deeper still. He was acutely aware he wasn’t sheathed, but this time it had been deliberate. He sensed she was equally aware. Had they both gone completely crazy?
He was teetering on the edge of...something he didn’t understand. But for the first time he had found something more important than his job.
He wanted her with him. And he wanted their child.
“We’ll find a way,” he said. “But you have to turn yourself in.”
She let out a watery laugh. “Jean-Marc, if I turn myself in I’ll be having your baby in jail, whether or not I’m guilty.”
“
Non
. I’ll get you the best lawyer in the country. We’ve got no evidence—”
She put her fingers over his mouth and gave him a heartrending smile. “Shhh,” she whispered. “You mustn’t say these things, my love. It would never work. For either of us. But I love you even more for asking.”
His heart squeezed so hard his chest hurt. “What if there really is a baby?”
Her head gave a tiny shake. “There’s probably not. Wrong time of month.”
Searingly disappointed, he buried his face in her hair, inhaled the sweet scent of her. Fought to keep his emotions in check. He pulled out and drove back into her.
No baby would be a
good
thing. At least he could keep a modicum of dignity when he resigned from the case. And he wouldn’t have to explain to the
Préfet
why
le Revenant
’s baby had his DNA.
“This is so fucked up,” he muttered.
“Yeah,” she agreed.
He thrust into her again.
“I want you with me.”
“I want to be with you, too.”
Pulled and thrust.
“There has to be a way.”
“Maybe in another lifetime,” she said with a moan as he scythed in deep, deep.
“Turn yourself in,” he urged again.
“I can’t,” she panted. “Who’ll take care of the Orphans?”
“I will,” he promised, astonishing both of them. He paused.
She looked up at him. Met his eyes. “And Beck?”
“I’ll keep Sofie safe. He won’t ever get close to her.”
“Jean-Marc...what if there’s
not
a baby?”
He gazed down at the face of the woman who had turned his world on its head. For whom he had compromised everything. The woman who would surely end his career and negate everything he’d deemed important in life up until this very moment.
“Then we’ll keep trying,” he whispered.
♥♥♥
They made love.
For the first time.
Sweet and tender, with both laughter and tears, their lovemaking transcended anything Jean-Marc had ever experienced. Sure, he’d had more creative sex. But never more emotionally satisfying. It was so much better this way. It made him happy from the inside out, clear to his toes happy.
He brushed it off when Ciara wouldn’t be pinned down to a specific date to move in with him; he concentrated instead on how beautiful she looked pinned down under him, calling his name as he brought her to orgasm. He didn’t worry when she still wouldn’t admit she was
le Revenant
, nor speak again about agreeing to turn herself in. His only thought was that she’d agreed to have his child—if implicitly, by allowing him to make love to her unprotected.
He was too busy falling in love to notice those things.
Too busy being happy, learning her body and her responses to his touch. Too busy listening to his heart, not his head.
When she finally, hours later, fell asleep in his arms, he was as content as a man could be. He would think about it later—all the problems, all the obstacles they’d have to overcome to be together. Right now there were only two things that mattered.
She was his. And he wasn’t going to let her go.
♥♥♥
“Jean-Marc.” Ciara shook him reluctantly. He looked so at peace. “Baby, we should go. We’ll miss our train.”
His eyes fluttered open, and immediately she was gifted with a blinding smile. My God, he was handsome when he smiled. It happened all too rarely. At least when he was around her.
“
Mon ange
,” he murmured, and reached for her. “So it wasn’t a dream.”
Guilt swirled through her insides as he took her in his arms. He’d be a lot better off if it had been.
“That depends on what you dreamed,” she said teasingly. Better to keep it light. Avoid the agonizing emotion they’d shared while making love. She’d start to cry again if she gave herself time to think about everything he’d offered her. Everything she must turn down.
His smile widened. “It was one hell of a dream.”
“Yeah?”
He rolled on top of her and she felt his cock slide home.
“Oh, yeah.”
She wrapped her arms around him. Oh, how she wished they could stay here in their satin and lace cocoon forever!
“Did it involve a brothel and a magic wand?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows. Wishing she really had a magic wand. A powerful one that could change the past...and the future.
His teeth flashed white in a fading sunbeam. “Oh, it’s magic, all right. It’s amazing the things it can do.”
“Mmm,” she purred. “Show me.”
So he did, and she was able to lose herself in him for just a little while longer, lovers wrapped in ivory satin and bathed in the last orange-gold light of day. Then, after the moans had quieted and the kisses trickled to a stop, they rose, got dressed and headed to the cavernous train station, where the harsh electric lights were just coming on.
Loudspeakers blared out delays and track changes, busy travelers bumped them with overstuffed suitcases, porters hawked their services, and local gendarmes stood with crossed arms scrutinizing every passenger for anything suspicious.
Back to reality.
“We shouldn’t sit together,” she said. “You’re supposed to be tailing me. Official police business and all.”
“Fuck that. You’re not getting rid of me so easily.” He gave her a kiss on the nose.
She shook her head in resignation. He was not in the mood to listen to reason. She was a thief. He was a cop. Couldn’t he see there was no way that could ever work? No matter how much they wanted it to?
The fact that she might be pregnant with his baby terrified her. And thrilled her. It was too incredible. She’d never thought about having children before. But suddenly it felt...right.
She had a lot of thinking to do when she got home. About her life. About her future. About the choices she had to make.
Could they really find a way, as Jean-Marc insisted? Or was it all just an impossible fantasy, and her heart destined to be broken...?
Or worse, could he be lying?
A man he called his friend had once betrayed him badly. Might he have learned that lesson a little too well?
Jean-Marc was a shrewd police officer—
en grand flic
—who’d many times admitted he’d stop at nothing to put Ciara in jail. Could this just be a clever ruse to get her to turn herself in? To close the case?
Could she be trusting him, surrendering her heart to him, only to lose everything she held dear—including him?
♥♥♥
Jean-Marc was worried about Ciara. For the past three hours on the Paris express train, she’d been too quiet. The closer they sped toward home, the wilder the look in her eyes had gotten. It was a look he’d never seen there before. Panic?
He didn’t blame her. He was a bit panicked himself.
“I could use a drink,” he said, and got up to walk to the bar in the club car. “How about you? Anything?”
She shook her head absently. “No thanks. But you go ahead.”
He hesitated for a second, watching her turn her gaze unseeingly out the window into the blackness beyond.
Did she already regret what they’d done? Was she planning to run out and get a morning-after pill so she didn’t have to deal with the consequences? Or was she possibly considering his plea to turn herself in?
Hell, was
he
regretting what he’d done? Was he mad to think she would reform just to be with him? And what if she really was pregnant...?
Jesus. What
had
he done?
Doubts assailed him...until he remembered what it had been like last night. How close he’d felt to her. How he’d felt for the first time ever that someone had truly gotten to the core of him. Understood what he was all about, the hidden insecurities, the desperate need to be loved unconditionally, and had instinctively met every need. Given of herself as no woman ever had before.
She’d said she loved him. He just hoped she loved him enough to take it all the way.
He found a seat at the bar and ordered a bourbon. He didn’t usually go for the hard stuff, but he’d acquired a taste for good shot of Kentucky during the week-long profiling seminar he’d attended at Quantico last year in the States. He tossed it back and ordered another. Why not? It wasn’t every day a man celebrated blowing up his own career.
He’d just relaxed and gotten to the point where he was mentally placing baby furniture in his sleek, modern bachelor pad when his cell phone rang. A look at his watch told him it was nearly ten pm. A glance outside told him they must be on the outskirts of Paris.
“Lacroix,” he answered.
“Thank God,” came Pierre’s excited voice. “Where the hell are you? Why haven’t you answered your phone?”
He sighed. Was one uninterrupted afternoon of bliss really too much to ask? “I was busy.”
“Never mind.” Pierre rushed on. “We got a tip. I know where she is. And we’ve got her, mec. She’s as good as ours.”