The Enemy Within (Daughters of the People Series Book 3) (10 page)

Indigo barely
noticed. She pretended to play cards, but her eyes roamed continuously to the
area where her step-father would come out when the baby was born.

Another hour
passed before that happened, and when it did, a cry went up around the room at
the happy smile on Glen’s face. Indigo stood and pulled Bobby with her.

“It’s a boy,” he
said, then held up his hands when a cheer rang out. “And a girl. We have two
blessings tonight.”

Indigo whirled
and threw her arms around Bobby. He held on as she laughed and cried and
pressed sloppy kisses to his cheeks.

“Oh, I have to
go talk to him for a minute. Be right back.” She pressed a final kiss to his
mouth and darted off, pushing her way through the crowd.

He shoved his
hands into the pockets of his jeans and watched her go until she disappeared
with her step-father into the delivery room. Rebecca stepped up to him and
threaded her arm through his.

“The day you
were born,” she said in a soft voice meant for the two of them alone, “your
father passed out before we could even get here.”

A swift,
nostalgic ache rose in Bobby’s chest at the familiar tale.

“Charlotte had
to drive us to the hospital, and you know what her driving’s like. By the time
we arrived, your father was a nervous wreck, poor Charlotte was in tears, and
you had nearly pushed your way out. You were always in such a hurry.”

“I know,” he
murmured. It had gotten him into trouble more than once, and not solely on the
day he’d become a man and tried to claim Indigo.

“You’ve slowed
down a little in your old age,” she teased.

He grinned at
her. “Not so much as you’d think.”

She placed her
hand on his cheek, pressed gently until he turned his face toward hers.
“There’s no hurry, Bobby. There never was.”

“It feels like
there is, like if I don’t hold her to me, she’ll slip right through my fingers
again.”

Rebecca patted
his cheek, then dropped her hand. “I think you’ll find Indigo more receptive to
your suit this time around.”

An unwarranted
hope lurched in his chest. “How so?”

“You’ll see,”
she said simply, and he nodded, though he didn’t see at all.

Indigo came out
not long after, beaming, and pushed through the crowd until she reached him.

“Congratulations,”
Rebecca said.

Indigo’s smile
dimmed a notch. “Thank you, Director Upton.”

“Rebecca,” his
mother said. “How’s everyone doing?”

“Wonderful,
thank you. They’ve brought the babies to the nursery and said we could go
look.”

“Then look you
should.” Rebecca squeezed Bobby’s arm, though she directed her remarks to
Indigo. “Please give your mother my best wishes. Tell her I’ll stop by in a day
or two to check on her.”

“Thank you,”
Indigo said.

Bobby watched
his mother make her way through the crowd with the ease of a knife through
butter before letting Indigo tug him toward the nursery. His whole conversation
with his mother had been off somehow, pointed in that mysterious way women had
of conveying information without tipping their hand in the slightest. What
could she possibly know about Indigo that would give him hope?

“Oh, Bobby, you
should see them.” Indigo’s voice was hushed as they walked hand in hand along
the corridors. The crowd fell away behind them, a distant murmur of family and
friends. “They’re so tiny and perfect. The nurse said I could hold them if I
wanted, though I think I’d rather wait until they’re out of the nursery. Don’t
you think?”

He let her
chatter, content to wander the halls with her, enjoying the smooth silkiness of
her hand gripped in his own and the light patter of her happiness. When they
came to the nursery, he was surprised that her siblings were the only two
residents. A nurse spotted them at the window and hurried to let them in.

“If we had other
babies, you’d have to stay outside,” she explained, “but since it’s just these
two angels and they’re perfectly healthy, you’ll be fine.”

Indigo led him
to a spot between the two hospital cradles and bounced from one to the other,
cooing softly over the sleeping infants. When she wound down and found a spot
halfway between, he pulled her into his arms with her back against his chest
and held her. A strange feeling gripped him as they stood there, flanked by
newly born babies, and he remembered the vision he’d had of a little girl with
Indigo’s beautiful sapphire eyes.

A sudden longing
to make that child a reality hit him, hard enough to stagger him. He tightened
his hold on Indigo as his heart stuttered in his chest, turned over, and
thumped hard.

She sighed and
leaned her head back over the yearning in his heart. “Aren’t they beautiful,
Bobby?”

“Mmm.” He
brushed his cheek against her midnight hair, breathed in the clean scent of
her. “They look like little wrinkled frogs to me.”

She gasped out a
laugh and smacked his arm. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“I can’t believe
you took me seriously.”

“Oh, you,” she
said, and settled back against him with a happy sigh. “Seeing them makes me
want my own.”

“I’m happy to
oblige,” he said, and felt the quiet rumble of her laughter more than heard it.

“I’m sure you
would.” She turned in his arms and rested her hands against his chest. “Don’t
you want to have children?”

Oh, if she only
knew. How could he tell her that he’d dreamed of her having his children since
the day she’d walked into his English class as his teacher, less than two
months before his fifteenth birthday? Would it scare her off to learn how often
he pictured her in his mind, round with his child, her eyes full of love and
promise? “Some day. Why did you never have any?”

“Oh, well, you
know. It was never the right time. Never the right man.” Her gaze dropped to
her hands and the happiness slipped from her face. “Growing up with India and Mámá
fighting all the time was difficult.”

“That was a long
time ago,” he said gently.

Her face lifted
and her eyes filled with regret. “The past has a way of clinging to the
present, no matter how hard we try to shake it.”

He knew that,
knew it all to painfully well. She didn’t have to suffer for it, though. He
kissed her then, a soft press of lips meant to comfort, to soothe, to bleed
some of her sadness away so that the pleasure could fill her up again. Her
fingers curled against his chest and she sighed into his mouth, and he took it,
all of it and her, everything she was willing to give him.

When he could
tear himself away, he said, “Let me take you home.”

“Ok,” she said,
and her eyes lit with the promise he’d dreamed of seeing there. His heart jumped
into his throat, the racing beat roaring through his ears as heat sprang
between them.
Blessed Goddess
. Unless he was mistaken, she wanted more
than a drive home.

It took them an
hour to make their way out of the hospital. Her mother was being moved to a
regular room when Indigo and Bobby came out of the nursery. Indigo said goodbye
to her step-father and promised to visit the next day, and then there were all
the well wishers and family members to deal with, and by the time they left,
second thoughts pinged around Indigo’s head.

Had she really agreed
to have sex with Bobby or had that been her imagination?

She peered at
him out of the corner of her eye as he drove, his left hand draped over the top
of the steering wheel. His right one held her hand against his thigh in a
casual gesture. He’d let her hang on to him on the ride over, held her hand
while they were inside, stroked her back, easing her nerves.

Coming from him,
such affection could mean anything. After all, this was the man who’d admitted
to holding
dozens
of attractive women over the course of his young life.

Her breath
faltered in her lungs and a flush crept up her face. She’d totally misread the
situation. So what if he’d kissed her senseless on a dozen different occasions
over the past few weeks? He’d walked away every single time in spite of the
erection he nearly always sported afterward.

A shaft of pain twisted
its way into her heart, bone deep and hard.

What was she
doing? If he still wanted her, he would’ve acted by now. This was Bobby, the
same person who’d tried to claim her as soon as he’d become a man in the eyes
of the People. Bobby, who didn’t lollygag or wait around on someone else, but
stepped forward, manned up, and got the job done.

This was a man
who held his sisters’ hands and showered everyone he knew with affection of one
sort or another. Her heart twisted again. She was no different, nothing
special. Why had she allowed herself to believe she meant something to him
still, just because she once had?

Indigo tugged
gently at her hand, trying to slide it from beneath his. His grip firmed around
it, and he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers in a tender
gesture that stung her fragile heart.

Damn him for
making her believe, for making her
want
.

The minute he
pulled into the parking lot of her apartment complex and parked, she jerked
herself away from him and out of his truck. Her tennis shoes squeaked as she
all but ran up the sidewalk and the two flights of steps to her apartment
without checking to see if he followed. She fumbled with the lock, let herself
in, and made it three steps inside before he caught her.

His hands
gripped her waist, swinging her around until her back hit the closed door. He
braced his forearms above her and leaned in until their noses touched. Her
breath hitched in her lungs, caught by the heat in his hazel eyes, so deep and
needy, almost desperate. She pressed her hands flat against the door, holding
them there to stifle the aching need to touch him, to curl her fingers into his
shirt and pull him down until their lips met. Heat pooled between her thighs
and her skin tightened in anticipation and she bit her lip hard, willing
herself not to give in.

“I love it when
you do that,” he said.

“Do what?”

He shifted and
moved, traced her mouth with one finger. “When you’re thinking about sex, you
nibble the corner of your mouth. It makes me hard.”

“Oh.” Her breath
came in shallow gasps. “I didn’t know…” That she was doing it, that it provoked
him sexually.

His laugh was
low, gritty, and sent his breath feathering across her lips. “I like it.”

“Oh.”

His finger
traced her lips again. Her lips tingled at the teasing touch and she opened her
mouth and flicked her tongue out, tasting the tip of his finger. He sucked in a
breath and stilled, and an embarrassed flush heated her cheeks. She turned her
face away from him, away from temptation. “Sorry.”

“Why? It felt
great.”

“Is that what
this is, then? A way for you to feel great?” She pushed him away with a hurt
fury that surprised them both. “Anyone will do, huh, especially poor, weak
little Indigo. Is this payback for rejecting you Bobby?”

His eyes widened
as he huffed out a breath, dimming the heat in his gaze not one whit. “What are
you talking about, Indi?”

“I’m talking
about you toying with me.”

“I’m not toying
with you.” He gave a half laugh. “I’m trying to seduce you.”

She crossed her
arms over her chest and regarded him with narrowed eyes. “Really.”

“Well, yeah, but
that’s nothing new. I’ve been trying to do that since I was sixteen.” He ran a
hand through his hair and mumbled, “Thought I was doing pretty well there,
too.”

She sucked in a
breath. “You’ve been playing with me since the moment you walked through that
door, with your casual hugs and kisses and those sexy little licks on my neck.”

“Sexy, huh?”

“I thought we
were friends.” She glanced away, covering the hurt, her pride begging her to
hide it from his astute gaze. “I thought you wanted me.”

“I do. We are.”
He rubbed a finger over his forehead, shook his head. “What is this about?”

“I don’t know!”
She met his confused gaze with her miserable one. “I guess I just got carried
away in the nursery, surrounded by babies, and you were there and made me want
you, like you always do, and I’m tired of being alone when you’re right there,
underfoot all the damn time, tall and sexy and charming, and really, do you
have to be such a good kisser?”

A gentle smile
tugged at his mouth. “You said damn.”

“I know.” The
humor of it hit her and a laugh bubbled up. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s ok.
You should vent more often.”

He held out his
arms and she walked into them. The tension bled out of her in a swift rush. It
felt so good, so right to hold him like this, like she was supposed to be
there, surrounded by everything he was. She rested her head against his chest
and breathed in the lingering hint of spicy cologne, the masculine scent that
was all Bobby. “I feel silly.”

“Don’t.” He
rested his chin against the top of her head, tightened his arms around her.
“Next time, though, maybe you should talk to me instead of bottling it up.”

“Maybe.” She
drew back until she could meet his gaze. “So, was it my imagination or did you
really want to have sex with me?”

“That was
definitely not your imagination.” He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I’ll
understand if you don’t want to, though.”

“But you’re,
er.” She stuttered to a stop. How did one describe a man’s erection in polite
company?

His laugh was
low and shaky. “I’ve been
er
since the first time I saw you.”

She bit the
corner of her lip and he groaned.

“You have no
idea what that does to me.” He rested his forehead against hers. “It’s late. I
should probably go.”

“What?” She
clutched at his shirt. “No, wait.”

“Indi, sweetheart,
one more kiss that’s not a goodnight and I might not be able to stop.”

“Maybe I don’t
want you to.”

He heaved a
breath and looked skyward. “Maybe’s not gonna cut it, not this time. If I stay,
you have to be sure it’s what you want.”

Her heart tipped
into overdrive. “I’m sure. No, I am,” she added when his mouth twisted into
skepticism. “I want to be with you, have for a while. I just needed time to
work up to it.”

“Yeah?”

She answered him
with a slow, womanly smile as she took his hand in hers and backed toward her
bedroom, watching the burning need in his gaze build until it encompassed them
both. She left the overhead light off, flipped on the bedside lamp instead, and
wavered as uncertainty flicked through her. It had been so long since she’d
been intimate. None of those men had been anything like the one who stood
before her, strong and confident, intent only on her. It was scary and good all
at the same time.

And she
wanted
it to be.

He yanked his
BDH polo over his head and dropped it to the floor, his eyes hot, demanding,
and just a little dangerous. “Touch me.”

She reached out
and ran a finger down the center of his torso from the top of his sternum to
his belly button, marveling at the taut, smooth expanse. He shivered and she
pulled back, only to have him grab her hand and place it more firmly against
his skin.

“It tickled,” he
said in a gruff voice that sent tingling chills up her spine.

She circled her
fingers along his chest. His skin was smooth under her touch, the hair
scattered there crisp and warm. Satisfaction purred through her when he
shuddered and she did it again because she could, because he’d given her
permission to touch him, freeing her to do as she pleased.

Emboldened, she
moved closer and ran her hands up his ribs. On the way back down, she slowed
her touch and memorized every dip, every ripple of muscle over bone. His skin
was warm and firm, tougher than her own, but still smooth as satin. She ran a
fingernail along the edge of his pants, teasing him. The hair under his navel
was silkier, warmer, and oh so tempting. She slipped a finger into his pants
there, rubbing in and out of his waistband as he sucked his stomach muscles in
with a low moan that shivered through her.

“I want to put
my mouth on you, here.” She traced her fingers lower, skimming over the hard
length hidden behind his zipper, learning the width and breadth of him through
the worn fabric. “May I?”

His breath
whooshed out in a rush. “Anything you want.”

Oh, yes, she
wanted, burned so hard with the need for him, it consumed her.

She pressed
nibbling kisses along his collarbone while her hands wrestled with the
fastening of his jeans, fumbling in her eagerness to touch him. He rested his
hands on her waist and watched her with an intensity she could feel, his eyes
taking in every touch, every breath.

When his jeans
were undone, she pushed her hand into his underwear and stroked the backs of her
fingers along the velvet skin of his erection. His hands dug into the skin at
her waist. “That’s it, baby,” he murmured, and threw back his head on a gasp when
she circled him with finger and thumb and stroked downward.

Desire washed
over her, and power. She wanted to feel him shudder and moan while she sucked
his erection into her mouth, to bring him pleasure and taste his release and
know that she was the one who had given that to him.

She pulled her
hand out and stood on tiptoe to take his mouth in a fierce kiss while she
worked his pants down over his hips, over the firm curve of his bottom and the
thick length of his manhood. He moaned when his erection broke free and rasped
out her name in a voice harsh and needy, urging her on with his fierce cry. His
skin glimmered in the low light. She followed the play of shadows along his
muscles with her lips, darted her tongue out, tasting the saltiness of his
skin, and sucked and nibbled her way down his torso until the hardwood floor
dug into the bones and skin of her knees.

His erect penis
jutted proudly from his body, the tip wet and ready, eager for her. She cupped
his firm bottom with a steadying hand, circled his erection with the other, and
licked along the slit at the end of his manhood. His hips jerked forward at the
first touch of her tongue, pushing his length into her mouth.

“Sorry,” he
said. “Feels good.”

She
hmmd
,
reveled in his answering moan, and eased the head of his erection deeper,
sucking gently and licking the underside until he tangled a hand into her hair,
urging her to take more. She did, slipping him as far into her mouth as he
would go, then let him slide slowly out as she drew away. In and out she pulled
him, suckling him in the age-old kiss of a woman for the man she desired. His
body arched, pressing his hips forward, and his muscles trembled under her
fingers, flexing and bunching with each wet stroke.

“Indigo,
please,” he moaned. “I need you, so much. Let me have you.”

A hint of
saltiness hit her tongue and she drew back, even as his hands tightened in her
hair. She glanced up and found him gazing down at her, his hazel eyes hot, his
expression taut with need, and a thrill ran through her. “You want me to stop?”

He laughed, low
and unsteady, and shook his head. “I don’t want to come yet, either.”

He pulled her to
her feet and their hands tangled together, yanking at each other’s clothes,
dropping them onto the floor in a careless pile of his and hers, and then she
pushed him onto the bed and looked her fill of him. His skin glowed golden in
the low light and his eyes glittered beneath hooded lids as his own gaze
drifted across her body, lingering on the lush weight of her breasts, the soft
slope of her stomach, the curls at the juncture of her legs. His feet were flat
on the floor, his thighs a wide frame for his erection, and the muscles of his
torso bunched with the curve of his body.

He was the most
beautiful man she’d ever seen, and he was
hers
.