Conner stared down at her, at the long lashes once more veiling her eyes, and he started to laugh. “You’re going to be hell to live with, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Well, aren’t you going to talk about dresses and suits?”
“I don’t have a dress.”
“Are we getting married naked then? It has its possibilities.”
She laughed softly. “You would think that. No. We’re wearing clothes. Now go to sleep. Talking makes you hard.”
“You make me hard. Looking at you makes me hard. Lying beside you gets me hard. The sound of your voice, the touch of your skin . . .”
She pushed back into him and wiggled, rubbing her buttocks back and forth across his shaft. “Stop! I get the point.”
“So you want to wear clothes. What clothes? We didn’t exactly pack much and your dress has blood all over it. I shredded my clothes when I went to help Jeremiah.”
“I’ll wear my jeans. I brought a change of clothes, jeans and a T-shirt. Well, a tank top, but it will be fine. The point isn’t our clothes, right?”
“So a dress then. And a suit. We’ll have to ask doc where we can come up with something that will work.”
Her laughter was muffled against the pillow. “You’re impossible. I have no idea where we’re supposed to come up with a dress and a suit, but whatever.” Her eyes opened and she looked at him again from over her shoulder. “And I can tell you’re going to go through a lot of clothes. Perhaps you should practice stripping on the run without ruining what you’re wearing.”
“Extreme circumstances call for extreme reaction.”
“Not if I’m the one having to try to repair said clothes. And if you go around ripping your clothes to shreds, what do you think your little brother will do? He’s going to follow your example in all things.”
“Do you think so?” He rolled her over onto her back and swept his hand from her breasts to her thighs, slowing along her flat belly and mound before traveling lower. “I love the feel of your skin.”
“I’m not moving, Conner. If you’re going to . . .” She broke off with a little cry when he dipped his head and swept his tongue along the same path as his hands, this time stopping at the junction between her legs.
She laughed and caught his hair in her hands, holding him there.
16
ISABEAU took the cup of tea from Mary Winters with a small smile. “Conner wants me to find a dress to wear. For some reason it’s really important to him.”
“And it isn’t to you?” Mary asked gently.
Isabeau looked down into the steaming cup. “I don’t want it to be. It isn’t like I have family. My mother died so long ago I barely remember her and my father . . .” She broke off. It wasn’t like she had anyone to walk her down the aisle. The wedding was going to be taking place in the doctor’s backyard right on the edge of the rain forest. White, flowing, traditional dresses wouldn’t make sense anyway. “I think every girl dreams of this day, walking down the aisle with her father, surrounded by family and friends.” She shrugged. “I want to marry Conner, of course, but I pictured it all happening quite differently.”
Mary reached out and sympathetically patted her knee. “Don’t be depressed, Isabeau. You can make this day anything you want. When Abel asked me to marry him, we had no one either. Now . . .” Her smile was warm. “ . . . our family is very large and we’re blessed with several grand-children. I remember the day we got married as if it were yesterday. You want your day to be like that. Your man is so excited. I can see joy on his face.”
Isabeau’s smile lit her eyes. “Me too. That’s why I’ve agreed to this. It’s such an imposition for you.”
“Did you know Marisa?” Mary asked, placing her cup carefully on the white-laced tablecloth.
Isabeau nodded. “I met her a short while ago, right before she was killed. She was a good friend to me. At the time, I didn’t know she was Conner’s mother.”
“But she knew you were Conner’s chosen mate,” Mary said. “I know because I always knew with my sons. Mothers have that extra sense about them.”
“I hope she knew. I hope she approved.”
“Marisa was an accepting person. The man she chose when she was young and impressionable wasn’t her true mate, but she remained loyal to him in spite of the fact that he was so wrong in the way he treated her. She raised her son to be a good man, and she would have raised the boy she took . . .” She broke off when Isabeau gasped.
Mary nodded. “Yes, dear, we knew about little Mateo. Marisa brought him to us when she needed a doctor for him. She was a good woman, and she would be so happy that you are going to be the one to share her son’s life. I know she would.”
“You’re very kind,” Isabeau said.