Throughout the day, she’d come to some conclusions she hoped would prove valuable in the long run. Mike had no problem resisting her in bed. Sexually they were one hundred percent compatible. But it was the other areas of their marriage that needed strengthening. She couldn’t work on those if she succumbed to his charm in bed while allowing him to erect barriers everywhere else.
A muscle ticked in his jaw and he folded his arms across his chest. “Tell me you don’t plan on sleeping in separate rooms while we’re here?”
She shook her head, glad he sounded so frustrated at the notion. “Of course not. We’ll sleep in the same room, in the same bed. We just won’t have sex,” she said, lowering her voice on the last word. “Relationships are about more than the physical.”
He grit his teeth, clearly disagreeing. “And how do you think we’ll get through the night?” He reached out and stroked her cheek, his voice tense with suppressed sexual tension.
Tension she felt, as well. But as much as she desired him, a short-term fix wouldn’t help her in the long run.
“We’ll talk,” she whispered in his ear, seductive yet deliberately playful. “We’ll share intimate secrets and get to know each other better.” She brushed her lips across his to silence any objection.
Then, taking his hand, she led her husband to bed.
IN THE BEDROOM, Mike found himself caught in a trap of his own making. He had taken the weekend off from work, a spur-of-the-moment decision he’d made after seeing his father’s reaction to Clara Deveaux. He’d sensed a storm was brewing and he wanted to be there to help his father weather it.
But once again, irony bit him in the ass. Here he was, with his wife, having made the decision to sleep with her now and worry about leaving her when the time came. Didn’t it figure that she’d decide to hold back?
She wanted them to get to know each other, he thought, frustrated in more ways than one.
Maybe if he fell asleep-or pretended to-before Amber came out of the bathroom, he could avoid what was sure to be a drawn-out conversation, not to mention the ache of being constantly turned on as he lay beside her. Unable to act on the need that had been eating him alive since their encounter in the kitchen.
And though he’d like to think she’d purposely led him on, to tease him in a minx sort of way, what he’d glimpsed in her eyes prevented him from thinking so little of her. She wasn’t flirting only to make him suffer. She was as drawn to him as he was to her. As carried away as he’d been. Only she’d come to her senses, out of respect for his father.
Which would have impressed him if not coupled with her need to talk. The female term for bonding emotionally.
He punched his pillow and rolled over, away from the door, a minute before he sensed her presence in the doorway. He knew she was there before she said a word. The fresh scent from her shower permeated the air around him and the light padding of her bare feet had sounded against the floor. His already-strung-tight body hardened even more…though he knew he wouldn’t be getting any tonight.
She slid into bed beside him, the ripple of sheets and heat of her body alerting his senses even more.
“Are you awake?” she asked, placing her hand on his shoulder.
He couldn’t get away with faking sleep. With a groan, he propped himself up against the pillows, resigned to conversation. “I am now.”
She shook her head and laughed. “You were before. I heard you muttering to yourself as I walked inside.”
He hadn’t realized he’d spoken out loud. She had him so distracted he couldn’t think. Now he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her V-neck sleep shirt that gave him too small a peek into her cleavage.
“Focus, Mike. I want to talk,” she said, obviously holding back laughter.
How could he, when a stray piece of hair curled around her cheek, tempting him?
“What is it about this conversation you’re trying to avoid?” she asked knowingly.
“What is it about this conversation that’s so important to you?” he asked, turning the question back on her.
She snuggled closer. “I want to talk about your father.”
Her answer took him by surprise. “You don’t want to talk about us?”
“Not this time.”
Her light laughter should have relaxed him, but the subject didn’t. He wasn’t any more comfortable discussing Edward than he was talking about them.
Still, he eased back against the pillows. Since she wasn’t going to accept no for an answer, Edward as a topic was the lesser of two evils. “What about him?”
Amber curled her body against his. Mike grit his teeth, fighting the pleasurable sensations that wouldn’t be eased any time soon.
“I was wondering if your father has ever seen a doctor?” Amber asked.
“For a physical?”
She shook her head, the soft curls splaying across his chest. He wrapped his arm around her and accepted the situation, hoping by the time she was finished talking, she’d be as aroused as he was and more willing to finish what they’d started in the kitchen.
“A mental-health professional.”
Unprepared, Mike stiffened and bit back the first words that came to mind-What the hell for?- knowing how absurd they would sound.
“Relax.” She squeezed his tense biceps. “I’m not criticizing, I’m trying to help. So, has he seen anyone?”
“No.”
“Why not? You admitted yourself that his behavior is off. I’ve seen it for myself.”
“He’s been driven to the brink by a goddamn curse that’s hovered over this family like a black cloud for centuries. What can a shrink do about that?”
She propped herself up so she could meet his gaze. “What if it’s more than that? What if Edward’s mood swings and instability are the symptoms of something that can be controlled? Not the result of a so-called curse.” Amber spoke slowly. She obviously chose her words carefully.
But Mike couldn’t answer her question. To take Edward to a psychiatrist meant learning for certain whether or not his father was insane. And that would bring to light Mike’s biggest, unexpressed fear. If Edward was crazy…genetically, clinically crazy and not just driven there by the Corwin curse, could Mike be far behind?
“Mike?” she asked quietly. “Isn’t it worth it to find out? Maybe something can be done for your dad.”
He exhaled hard. He wanted nothing more than to help his father, his own fears be damned. But he was embarrassed he’d never thought of psychiatric help before. Nobody had.
Until Amber. “I’ll look into it,” he said at last, before reaching over and shutting the lamp, then rolling away from her. Trying to block the desire and the emotional bonding she’d effortlessly achieved.
Undeterred, she curled around him, wrapping her arm around his waist, claiming her place beside him. “I only want to help you and your family,” she said into the darkness.
Nobody had ever wanted to help them before. Make fun of them? The kids had lined up. Whisper about them in town? Even the adults had been game.
“Why?” he asked her.
“Because I’m your wife.” She hugged him tighter. “And because I care.”
BECAUSE I CARE.
Amber’s words were the first thing on Mike’s mind the next morning. As he showered, he couldn’t stop thinking of what she’d said. Was there help for his father? If so, it was worth facing his own fears about the insanity in his family in order to find out.
Last night, Amber had reached out in a way nobody ever had before. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was smart and caring and he and his family were currently benefiting from those two attributes. He already knew he couldn’t resist her sexually. Now he was having trouble resisting the pull her sweet, caring nature had on him-and the loneliness he hadn’t realized he suffered from until she entered his life.