His lips twisted in a wry grin. He would never develop too much of an inflated ego with Simone around. “Are you feeling ill? At all?”
She wrapped one slender, toned thigh around his leg. “I’m good to go.”
Hutch knew he was making a mistake. Simone must have known it, too. But the heat and yearning between them was too powerful to ignore. “I’ve been tested recently,” he said. “I’m clean.”
“I’m in the clear also. And it’s not like you’re going to knock me up.” The line should have been funny, but neither of them laughed.
Very deliberately—to give them both a chance to change their m
inds—he stood and stripped off his clothes. Simone tracked his every move. Afterward, he helped her sit up, and they both managed to raise her gown over her head. She wasn’t wearing any underwear, so now she was completely nude.
He reclined beside her and put a tentative hand on her belly. “Odd, isn’t it...that you can’t really feel anything when so much is going on?”
She leaned against him, her hand on top of his. “I’m scared, Hutch.”
“Of which part?” He kissed her softly, almost light-headed because every bit of blood had rushed south to his sex.
“All of it. Labor. Delivery. Bringing home three newborns. Trying to breastfeed.”
“Women have been doing this since the dawn of time. You’re smart and organized. I have no doubt you’ll conquer motherhood like you do every other hurdle in your life.”
“Make love to me, Hutch.”
Her eyes were damp. She seemed more sad than amorous. But he couldn’t tell her no. Not anymore.
Carefully, he spread her legs and tested her readiness with two fingers. Her sex was moist and swollen. “Simone,” he groaned. He slid into her with one steady push. The sensation was indescribable. Pausing to let her adjust to his size, he rested his forehead on her shoulder. Her fingernails scored his back.
“More,” she demanded. “More, Hutch.”
He lost his mind. There was no other way to describe it. His fantasies from endless dark, hot, uncomfortable nights in West Darfur burst into life with a euphoric explosion that took him to the brink of a powerful orgasm in seconds. He could tell Simone wasn’t far behind.
Deliberately, he reached between their sweat-slickened bodies and found the little spot that made her tumble over the edge. They clung to each other like survivors in the aftermath of a killer wave.
The room was dark and silent. At last, he pushed up onto one elbow and cupped her cheek with his hand. “Again?” he asked hoarsely.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Again...”
* * *
Simone spent the waning hours of the night wrapped in Hutch’s arms. He spooned her, her back pressed to his chest. Though she felt his sex flex against her bottom, stiff and ready, they didn’t make love again.
It was the most restful sleep she’d experienced in the last two weeks. If she tried really hard, she could pretend the past five years never happened.
Toward morning, the nausea returned. Hutch held her hair and washed her face after she retched helplessly. He helped put her nightgown back on and sat with her, coaxing her bite by bite until she finished several crackers.
Then Barb arrived and Hutch transformed into Dr. Hutchinson. “I’ll call with the lab results,” he said, his expression distant and remote.
“Thank you,” Simone said, her heart shredding in agony.
Barb bustled about, oblivious to the tension in the room.
Hutch nodded. “You ladies have a good day. I need to get to the hospital.”
When Simone didn’t reply, he spun on his heel and walked out.
After that, the day was an endurance test. Eat. Get sick. Eat again. But the episodes were coming further apart, and she was actually managing to keep food down long enough to reap the benefits.
When Hutch called the landline with Simone’s test results, Barb answered and jotted down some numbers. She hung up the phone and gave Simone a thumbs-up. “Your electrolytes and other blood levels are right where they need to be, young lady. Let’s take that needle out of your hand and allow you to get back to normal.”