Dr Di Angelo's Baby Bombshell

?Why aren’t you?”

“I was thinking.”

That you should put on a shirt, because you’re the stuff fantasies are made of and I’m the last woman in the world you’d want to have those kind of fantasies about you?

“About?”

“What it must have been like growing up at your house.”

Huh? She rolled onto her side, staring at his barely perceptible silhouette through the darkness. “Why would you think about that?”

She felt his shrug more than saw it.

“I liked your family.”

He did? Why did that cause happy bubbles to dance in her belly? Until that moment she hadn’t admitted to herself how much she’d hoped Blake had liked her family.

“They liked you, too. Even if my brothers didn’t know quite what to think of me bringing home a city boy.”

He shifted, and she expected him to roll over and go to sleep. Instead his hand clasped hers, lacing their fingers in a warm hold that she guessed was supposed to be friendly. Friendly didn’t cover the excited tingles working their way through her body, starting somewhere in the pit of her belly and radiating outward, sensitizing every cell along the way.

“Tell me about them.”

“My brothers?” She didn’t move, just lay in the bed, acutely aware of his presence, acutely aware of the fact that for the dozenth time that day he held her hand and each time he’d thrown her heart into a tailspin of longing.

“Yes.”

Her brothers. Where did she start? “John and I were always the closest when I lived at home. Probably because he’s the youngest of the boys and only a year older than me,” she began, tugging her pillow down a bit with her free hand. “But since Jim and Rosy married, I see them most often. They usually come up twice a year to go to a football game, and they never miss the Tennessee/Alabama game.”

Long into the night, they talked. She told him about her family, life on the farm, about her favorite pets while growing up. At any point she grew silent he’d ask another question, and Darby would let more of her life spill into the darkness, thinking perhaps Blake had really hypnotized her with his music. Or maybe the darkness made her feel safe in sharing so much. Otherwise she’d never be lying in bed with the sexiest man she’d ever known, holding his hand and telling him all about her crazy but lovable family, and her rather ordinary childhood, growing up on a farm, that seemed to fascinate him.

Mmm, something smelled good. Still half-asleep, Blake breathed in a deeper inhalation.

Soft, flowery, elegant, feminine.

Something felt good, too.

He shifted slightly against the warm body curled spoon-fashion with his.

In the way one does when first awakening, he became aware of his body, of the way the soft body melted against him, her legs curled against his, of the way his arm snaked around her waist, her arm lying over his, of how his palm cupped her breast through too much material.

Her head was tucked beneath his chin and the alluring scent he’d smelled was a mixture of her shampoo and her own seductive fragrance.

She fit perfectly against him, his much larger body framing hers protectively, possessively.

Not opening his eyes, he kissed the top of her head, worked his way down to nuzzle her neck, her ears. Damn, she tasted good.

Better than French fries.

Better than Darby’s mom’s banana pudding.

Darby.

He was nibbling on Darby’s earlobe.

He opened his eyes, expecting her to be awake, expecting her to lash into him and tell him exactly where he could go for taking advantage of her.

He couldn’t see her face, but could tell she was still asleep by her even breathing.