Chapter Ten

Warning: Adult content follows.

Blair's head spun with combinations of paint samples and fabric swatches, cabinet configurations and countertop surfaces as she shoved the key into her front door Monday evening. Just like old times. And it felt good. Eerily good.

She'd forgotten what an effective team she and Chuck made, but today, watching his sharp mind work and his eyes gleam with intelligence and excitement as they discussed the basement conversion.

"Do you want to eat in the dinning room or should I have it set up in the den in front of a movie?" he asked from behind her.

Another flashback. In fact, the past has hung over her head like a rain cloud the entire day. Déjà vu moments had unexpectedly spattered down on her. Some like big, fat, warm droplets and others like icy cold drizzle. There had been no escaping the deluge of memories.

In the early days of their marriage they had ended many a day by having dinner served in the den while an old movie played in the tv. Sometimes they'd even watched an entire film before climbing all over each other. But most of the time they'd missed the last half of the movie because they were too absorbed in making love to hear it playing in the background.

Her skin flushed and her hands trembled as she dropped her keys into her purse. "Dinning room."

His gaze held hers and his pupils expanded, telling her he remembered, too. Her chest tightened. She couldn't get enough air into her lungs and had to open her mouth to breath. "Chuck, don't."

He moved closer, then lifted his hand and cupped her face. "Don't what? Tell you that I want you? That I can't stop thinking about losing myself in the softness of your skin and the scent of your body, in the heat of you?"

A shiver of desire rippled over her.

"Don't tell you that I've barely slept for the last three nights because I've lain awake listening for sounds of you moving around our house?"

She'd done the same, listened for him.

"Your house," she corrected automatically.

"Our house. Your touch is in every room, Blair."

She told herself to back away, but her legs refused to move. "I'm not ready, Chuck, and I'm still not convinced this is a good idea."

"It's a good plan. A baby. Our baby. Us doing what we do best. Making a home. Making love."

The husky pitch of the last phrase increased her desire. But her defenses were too weak to give in now. Before they did this, she had to find a way to make this about sex and procreation, instead of making love. Gathering every ounce of strength she possessed, she ducked out of reach and hurried into the dinning room.

The staff had prepared a large, elegant meal. But her appetite had taken a vacation.

"For this to work you have to want it, too, Blair."

"I do. I mean, I will. But not yet." She had to change the subject because she was very, very close to giving in, and that could be the death of her - literally. "I'd like to keep your design, but I think the counters need to be movable instead of fixed."

"Removable, you mean."

Uncomfortable with the edge in his voice, she but her lip. "You might what to change it."

"You're keeping one foot out the door."

"What do you mean?" she asked, but she knew. He'd seen her ambivalence, her fear.

"Nothing nailed down. No permanent fixtures other than the required plumbing. You refused to sign the builder's contract today. He might have believed your excuse of rethinking the design, but I don't. Either you're in or you're out. Which is it?"

Stalling, she rearranged he silverware. "I'm in. I think."

"Once we conceive this child, you can't change your mind. I will be a part of my baby's life - a part of your life for at least eighteen years and very likely longer."

That's what scared her. That and the fact that she'd almost signed contracts today committing to running her business from Chuck's basement. Doubts had hit her as soon as she'd lifted the pen. The contractor had been understanding and agreed to give her a few days to think over his estimate.

"I know how long we'd be tired together, Chuck. Let's eat before dinner gets cold." Coward, her conscience gibed.

"Let it." he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle and she jumped. "It wouldn't be the first time." His palms spread low over her abdomen, pulling her flush against him, then his lips grazed her neck in that spot that has always driven her crazy. "Let's make a baby tonight, Blair."

Hunger for her husband raced through her and temptation chiseled away her will to resist. Her breath hiccupped in , then shudder out. She desperately sought any reason to resist. "I don't know if it's the right time of the month."

His hands caressed upward, stopping short of her breasts, then back down again to her hips. "Forget about timing. Focus on how good we are together. "

He skimmed up her torso again, and her nipples tightened in anticipation, but he stopped short of them to trace the elastic band at the bottom of her bar before descending up again.

Up. Down. Up. Down. With each rise her breath caught. With each descent she exhaled…in disappointment, it shamed her to admit. Despite everything that had happened in the past, she wanted his touch. Craved his touch.

But she wasn't ready. She wasn't strong enough. Why was that, exactly? She couldn't concentrate on the reasons this shouldn't happen yet, with his hands on her body. Chuck had always known exactly how to arouse her. Physically, they'd always been in perfect tune.

Up. This time her cradled her breasts, instead of leaving her hanging. His thumbs brushed across the puckered tips and her womb tightened. Why was she even bothering to fight? She was going to give in eventually , anyway. Wasn't she?

Down. She caught his hands, halting their descent, and lifting them back to where she needed them. Chuck rewarded her by simultaneously rolling her nipples with his fingers and scrapping his teeth lightly along the shell of her ear. A shudder racked her.

She pushed her hips back against him and encountered his erection, rigid and hot against her spine. Her resistance crumbled. She turned in his arms, her hip bumping deliberately over his arousal and making him inhale sharply.

His nostrils flared, and then he stabbed his fingers into her hair, framing her head and holding her steady. His mouth covered hers. Their tongues clashed in a kiss as wild and passionate and breathtaking as any they'd ever shared. Each successive kiss and caress grew more urgent, more desperate. His hands skimmed down to cover her bottom and yank her closer.

She dug her fingers into his waist and held on until her head spun from lack of oxygen and disorientation.

The past and the present blurred in a wash of want and hormones. But if she couldn't distinguish between reality and old fantasies, then how would she survive this relationship? Chuck had been her greatest joy, but also her greatest weakness. She ripped her mouth from his and touched her fingers to her still-tingling lips.

Desire darkened Chuck's eyes and his cheekbones. His palms branded her upper arms. "Make love with me, Blair. Now. Tonight."

Her heart battered against her rib cage and her mouth went dry. If she had sex with him now, there would be no turning back, no time to gather her strength. She'd be surrendering without making one single attempt at self-preservation. "I can't. I'm sorry."

And then she did exactly what she'd done seven years ago when she'd woken up on the sofa with two empty wine bottles lying on the floor and no memory of opening the second.

She Ran.