Page 44 of The Playboy Meets His Match
Acknowledging what he felt was amazing. Never had he expected love to happen to him. He had guarded against commitment, fought it, shrugged it away as something that happened to other people, but would not be a part of his life. Now love had become vital.
He wanted to tell her exactly how he felt, but right now, speeding home through the empty night, was not the place for a very special announcement.
She would want children. He had never given children a thought because he had never expected to fall in love, much less marry. A baby with Meredith. Their baby. The notion was awe-inspiring.
But before that was love. Glorious, fire-and-dynamite loving. He remembered her in the throes of passion, her legs around him as she cried out his name. He increased the speed of the car slightly because he wanted to get her home.
He couldn’t keep from glancing at her repeatedly. She seemed oblivious to his glances, and he wondered what was running through her mind.
“What are you thinking?” he asked finally, his voice a notch deeper because his thoughts were erotic.
“About Dorian having an alibi, yet so much points to him. And I’m thinking about being followed tonight. Whoever bombed your house, if the person was sending a warning—why follow us? If it was Dorian after the computer disk—why follow us? Unless whoever it is really intended to harm us and failed with the bomb,” she added.
“We’re safe. Don’t worry about it, and no one is following us now.”
“No, but if they know who you are and who I am, then they know exactly where we’re going right now.”
“I’m watching and I’m armed.”
“Somehow that doesn’t reassure me. I don’t want to get into a shootout.”
“We won’t. Whoever this is, he or she doesn’t work that way. So far, with the exception of Eric Chambers, there’s been no direct confrontation.”
“I’d call bombing your house about as direct a confrontation as you can get.”
“Let me worry about the danger. I was hoping you had other things on your mind.” He stroked her nape lightly while he watched the road.
“What things?”
“Us. Making love,” he answered in a husky voice.
She leaned close to him to flick her tongue out and kiss his ear. “We did that, mister, not much over a couple of hours ago.”
“Merry,” he groaned, “this is the longest ride home I’ve ever had.”
She laughed softly and ran her fingers up his thigh. “You keep your attention on the road.”
In the early hours of the morning Merry snuggled against Jason, who held her close. He lay on his side, his head propped on his hand as he studied her. She had a sheet pulled high under her arms, but her shoulders were bare, her hair a riot of silky auburn locks cascading over her pale skin. Jason ran his finger lightly along her hip, covered by the sheet.
He was in love, and he thought again about their conversation.
How’ll you know he’s the right person if you haven’t gone with him some first?”
I’ll know.
Just like that? Like lightning striking or what?
I’ll know the way anyone knows when she or he is in love.
He had told her he had been in love, but it wasn’t like this. This love was the real thing. He understood her now when she said she had never been truly, deeply in love. It shocked him to find himself head over heels in love. He had guarded against it, but had he really been preventing falling in love, or had it simply been that Merry had not yet come into his life?
Now the urge was growing stronger by the hour to get some kind of commitment from her. He didn’t want her to go back to Dallas.
And even though she hadn’t declared her love, she must feel it because she had given herself completely to him and only to him. He kissed her shoulder, then nuzzled her neck, wanting her fiercely again, as if they hadn’t made love through most of the night. He pushed the sheet down to fondle her breast, lowering his head to take her nipple in his mouth and kiss her. When she stirred and moaned, he raised his head to look at her. Her eyes slowly opened and she smiled at him, wrapping one arm around his neck.
“I love you, Merry.”
“You’re nice, Jason.”
