Stripper: The Fringe, Book 4 (29 page)

“My point is, it never really satisfied. Self-gratification would take the edge off, but the need still burned.”

Diane rolled her eyes.

“What?”

“We are standing in your kitchen—”

“Our kitchen.”

“Fine.” Shaking her head at him, she conceded, “Our kitchen—on a bright and beautiful Saturday morning discussing masturbation, of all things.”

“Better discussing it than doing it. Wouldn’t that make a strange scene for someone to walk in on? Actually, just the thought of watching you doing that is getting me all hot and bothered again, so let’s stop this and go get dressed.”

When Diane tried to follow him into his shower, he gently nudged her toward her own.

“I don’t think I could handle you all naked, wet and soapy again.”

Oh yes, he could. But now was not the time. If they had waited seven years, another day wasn’t going to kill them. Duster glanced down at his throbbing erection. It wouldn’t kill him, but it was going to make him so primed it wouldn’t take much to tumble him over the edge.

Reluctantly, Diane went to her own shower.

As he washed, the thought of dealing with himself in the shower sprang to mind, but more than the brief satisfaction he would feel, he wanted to wait for the sweet release he would find within Diane.

“Seven years. Seven days. Seven hours is seeming way too long.” If he could make it the seven minutes it took to shower, he’d impress the hell out of himself.

For the first time in his life, Duster was impatient. He didn’t want to wait anymore. He’d been waiting a very long time, but now they were safe. If they came together and created another child… He could barely contain his joy. Duster wanted to have sex with Diane, but he also wanted to mate with her.

He dressed, then made his way back to the kitchen. Diane woke up Scott, and they joined him. Together, making a rather big mess, they made a huge breakfast, then ate on the table off the back porch.

Scott seemed none the worse for wear after his nightmare. Given his enormous appetite and nonstop chatter, he’d apparently forgotten all about his scary dream. However, he didn’t forget about the puppy.

“So can we?” Turning hopeful eyes to Duster, Scott asked around a mouthful of pancakes.

“It isn’t polite to talk with your mouth full,” Duster pointed out.

After lifting his gaze to the sky, Scott then dropped it to scowl at his mother. “You told him to say that.”

Before Diane could say anything, Duster said, “No, she didn’t. I appreciate good table manners as much as your mother. Try again.”

Swallowing down his mouthful, Scott remembered to wipe his mouth, then, as politely as he could, he asked, “Can we get a dog?”

“Do you understand what it means to own a dog?” Duster asked solemnly.

“Yeah. Gotta feed ’em and walk ’em and wash ’em and stuff. I can do that.”

“You’ll also have to train him, clean up after him in the backyard and help me build a fence to keep him out of the garden. Are you willing to do all of that too?”

“Yeah!” Bobbing his head enthusiastically, Scott seemed unable to believe he stood so near to achieving his dream. Obviously, Scott would have agreed to anything to get a dog, including shaving his head and dying himself blue.

Duster glanced at Diane, looking for agreement.

She shrugged. “I’m okay with it if you are.”

“Okay, then. We’ll finish—”

Scott bolted from the table screaming with exuberance.

“You’ve made him very happy,” Diane said.

“Obviously.” Watching Scott jump around in his pj’s, Duster had to bite his lips not to laugh. “Scott? Come finish eating first.”

Wolfing down his food, Scott managed to clean his plate in less than sixty seconds. “May I be excused?” Spraying flecks of his food to the table, he wiped his mouth on the back of his arm. He realized his mistake, so he smeared his napkin across his face.

Duster barely had to tell Scott to go brush his teeth and get dressed before he took off at a dead run to his bedroom.

“With that attitude, we should spring a plate of broccoli on him,” Diane said.

“He’d eat it in about ten seconds flat.”

“I don’t think he understands that we’re just going to look.” Diane finished her meal at a more sedate pace. “That the puppies are too young to come home today.”

“Why don’t you tell him that part?” Duster asked hopefully.

“Don’t flash those lonesome puppy eyes of yours at me.” Diane shook her fork at him. “You only want me to tell him so I can look like the bad guy. Nope. I’m gladly dumping this whole affair in your lap.”

“Spoilsport.”

Diane nodded. “I’m also going to fix my hair.”

“It looks fine.” Strands of golden copper tumbled around her face.

“Rather bohemian. I’d like to tame it a bit.”

“Why?”

She glanced away.

“Diane.”

Meeting his gaze, she said, “I want to make a good impression on your friends.”

“With that dress? Every man on-planet will be drooling all over you.” She wore a diaphanous gown of various shades and hues of green. Pointed edges made a complicated network of layers around her body.

“Is this too revealing?” Diane turned so he could see her from every angle. The gown covered her from neck to toes and all the way down her arms.

“Not in the least. That’s kinda what makes it so sexy. Not having a clear impression of what’s under all those fluffy layers of—what is that stuff?” The fabric moved like a teasing wind that seemed to be constantly toying with the idea of revealing her body but never really did. It was far more sexy than anything form fitting would ever be.

“Byzantine silk taffeta.”

“They’ll be so disappointed.”

“By?”

“The fact you’re already taken.”

“Now who’s acting a bit jealous?”

“Got news for you, my gorgeous wife, I’m not acting. Other men can look and drool all they want. Touching—that’s a whole new ball game.”

“With you looming at my side, dressed as you are in all your gear, I doubt one would dare.”

“My ring on your finger would stop most cold.”

“How would anyone know?”

“Given that two of the biggest gossip mongers—Daniels and Richards—know the gist of the story, which they promptly told to everyone else within earshot within hours of leaving base, I imagine a good chunk of the planet knows you’re here and you’re mine.”

Frowning, Diane looked away from the table to the garden. “Yours?”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not going to treat you like a possession. I just meant that you’ve chosen to be with me as my wife. And you’re potentially carrying my child.”

“We haven’t even—”

“I know that, and you know that, but
they
don’t. By the way those two enjoy spicing up tales, I’m sure they told everyone they caught us
in flagrante delicto
.”

“French?”

“Latin. Michael has a thing for it. Colloquially, it’s a euphemism for being caught in the act of sexual intercourse.”

Nodding, Diane didn’t look at him, and he wondered what he’d said that she took so badly.

“Diane? Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“What if, for some reason, I fail you?”

“Fail me how?” A million suspicious ran in his mind.

“What if I never have another child?”

“You mean you want to continue on with this chaste act we’ve got going at the moment?” Good Lord, he hoped not, since he’d barely been able to maintain the ragged edges of his self-control in the shower.

“God, no. But, sometimes, things happen, or rather they don’t, and what if I can’t for some reason?”

“It won’t be from lack of trying on my part.” He was trying to make her laugh, but what he said only deepened her frown. Between her tawny eyes, a line appeared.

“Not from lack of trying, but what if I just don’t? Will you, would you, well—”

“Find myself another woman? Is that what you’re asking me?”

“I guess.”

“Are you nuts? We already have one. If you have two more or twenty more, I’ll be—”

“Twenty? What am I? A dog giving birth to a litter of kids? How could I possibly have twenty children?” Eyes wide, glittering with anger, Diane leaned across the table.

“Why are you so touchy? It was a figure of speech. One or a hundred. I’m trying to tell you I don’t care how many.” It struck him suddenly. “Are you, in a rather roundabout way, trying to tell me you don’t want any more children?”

Just the thought of her not wanting more children clearly upset Duster, so she attempted to soften the blow. “I’m not saying that at all. But you want more children so desperately that I’m a bit afraid of not being able to live up to what you obviously want from me.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.” Duster held his hands open, palms up to the now brightening blue sky. “Let me make this as clear as I can. I love kids. I am thrilled to my toes to have Scott. I’ll be just as thrilled with more. If for some reason, we can’t have any more, then we’ll deal with that and find a way to have more some other way. Call me blunt, but why is it you keep throwing all these hypothetical questions at me? If we have more kids, we do. If we don’t have more kids, we’ll find out why and fix it. Why worry about something that isn’t an issue?”

“I’m just afraid, I guess. Of failing
and
of succeeding.” The night she’d brought Scott into the world flashed through her mind. She loved her son dearly, but that night was terrifying. Finally, she found the courage to meet his eyes. “Scott was a very difficult birth.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Compassion filled his eyes. “Tell me.”

“Aren’t you done yet? I want to go see the puppies.” Scott had dressed himself in a study pair of brown trousers, a muddy-colored brown shirt and a pair of lace-up shoes—his after-school clothes. Presenting his hands to Diane, he said, “I even washed my hands.”

“Did you brush your teeth?” Diane asked.

“Yep.” Scott shot her a painfully wide smile that showed almost every tooth in his mouth. “See?” It came out
shee
like a gangster from an ancient bad cinema.

“Excellent.” She reached to ruffle his hair, and he ducked.

Shooting a quick glance to his father, he hissed low, “Mom. You said you wouldn’t do that no more.”

“Anymore. And you’re right. I apologize.” Standing, Diane cast a quick glance at Duster. “I’m going to fix my hair and I’ll be ready to go.”

“Perfect.” But the look on his face made it clear their discussion about more children was far from over. “That gives Scott and me enough time to clean up and do the dishes.”

“Aw, man! That’ll take forever!” Dejected, Scott kicked the stone patio.

“Faster we get started, faster we finish.” Duster stacked dishes and took them inside.

Scott piled up a stack he would no doubt drop.

“Not so fast, sport. How about you take this pile?” Pointing to a more manageable stack, Duster supervised as Scott scooped them up, then hurried them into the kitchen. Grinning, Duster said over his shoulder, “Go fix your stunning hair, my beautiful wife. And I promise, we’ll talk later.”

Over the years, plenty of men had cast attention her way. They offered compliments designed to inveigle her, and Diane had brushed them aside like pesky lint. Only one man could say such things to her where she not only believed he genuinely felt that way, but made her feel it as well. When Duster was looking at her, she felt stunning, beautiful and special. That was why her fear in the face of his genuine longing seemed almost childish. It wouldn’t be the same this time. She wouldn’t be alone. Duster would be there every step of the way. Yet she was still afraid. More children was so important to Duster that if she didn’t give them to him, he might reject her.

Leaving them behind, she made her way to her bathroom and pulled her hair back into a high bun on the back of her head with her hair poofed up around it. Tiny tendrils, artfully pulled, looked as if they had escaped to dangle fetchingly around her face. Diane knew the style made her look dignified and reserved, especially when she arched her brow, but it also made her sexy in a young-ingénue kind of way.

Swiping a bit of light brown mascara to her upper lashes, she went without anything more but a dab of vanilla-musk between her breasts and a brush of gloss across her lips.

“Damn it.”

Diane brushed her teeth, flossed, gargled and did everything short of sanitizing her mouth. Thinking of the kiss she’d already shared with Duster, morning breath and all, she laughed.

Catching her own reflection in the mirror, she cast herself a queenly look. “I’m off to seduce my own husband, apparently.”

She tarted herself up in the bathroom for none other than Duster. Yes, she would be meeting many of his friends and coworkers today—anticipatory anxiety rumbled down her spine—but more than that, she wanted to look nice for him.

Catching her reflection again, Diane turned to the side, remembering how she’d swelled with Scott. She’d carried low, but once she started to really show, she took an extended vacation from the network. For the last month of her pregnancy, she’d swaggered like a drunken gunslinger. If she sat, she couldn’t get back up without assistance. Since there hadn’t been anyone home to help her, she’d learned to roll to her side, kneel on the floor, then pull herself up. By the time Scott came, Diane had arms of durosteel. Again, she knew it would be different this time because Duster would be there with her, but that fear of the pain would not abate.