And he found that Saskia didn’t seem to mind a bit.
She gave herself up to his touch. She matched it greedy stroke for greedy stroke. She tasted magnificent, better even than he remembered, and he revelled in every second of it. She slid her arms around his neck and he wasn’t sure whether he hauled her closer or whether she pressed herself to him.
Possibly both.
And then he slid one hard, lean thigh between her legs, pressing against her core, making her rock against him. But when she did he found he couldn’t get close enough. Her burgeoning bump was in the way.
And judging by the small sound of surprise she made, Saskia had felt it, too.
Instantly, Malachi set her away.
‘No, I’m fine—I’m fine,’ she protested, moving closer.
‘Are you?’
He looked at her with concern until she defused the situation with a laugh.
‘I’m not that big. It was just unexpected, that’s all. I’m not used to it.’
‘Really?’
Resisting her attempt to step closer again, he kept his hands on her hips, holding her away.
Suddenly he saw unease lance through her.
‘Or is it that you don’t find me appealing like this?’ she asked.
* * *
‘Say that again?’ he said.
His expression darkened but she didn’t know what that meant. Had she been reading him incorrectly all this time? Had he made himself absent these last two weeks not because he didn’t want to give in to the attraction they’d once shared, but because he no longer found her attractive?
Saskia hated herself. She didn’t consider herself catwalk-model-esque, but nor had she ever needed to be flattered or constantly built up. She had always prided herself on being self-assured—she was who she was, and it was entirely up to other people whether they decided to take it or leave it.
Yet now, suddenly, with Malachi, she found herself wondering how she measured up. What had his past lovers been like? How would her swelling body compare?
‘You’re not compelled to,’ she rambled on, unable to stop herself. But this wasn’t her. At least it wasn’t who she wanted to be. All needy and timid.
‘You can’t seriously be asking me that question?’
He sounded...angry? Somehow—and Saskia had no idea how—she managed to tilt her head up and look him in the eye, to move away from this mousy stranger who inhabited her body.
‘I would rather know.’ She was going for confident, but she just sounded sharp.
Malachi cursed. Low, almost under his breath, but she heard it nonetheless.
‘Strip,’ he commanded.
Had she heard that right?
‘Pardon?’
‘Strip.’
His voice rasped over her, abrading her from the inside out. In an instant the fire smouldering within her kicked back into life.
‘And then I shall demonstrate exactly how beautiful I think you are. Even more so now.’