Claiming His Secret Heir

“It’s not a dream anymore.” He trailed his fingers down her cheek to tip her chin up. “We’re together now. And I’ll never let anything happen to you again.”

A small smile curved her lips and she sidled closer to him, her hands smoothing down his chest, slowing at his waist.

“I don’t want a bodyguard forever.” She kissed his shoulder, her tongue darting out to flick along the spot she kissed. “I’d settle for you making the sexy parts of my dreams come true.”

He stilled her questing hand and flipped her to her back.

“I’m being careful with you, Caroline.” He splayed his hand on her bare stomach, his fingers spanning narrow hips to cover the place where she’d carried his son. “At least this first time.”

“I’m not fragile.” She burrowed her hand beneath his to untie the drawstring on her pajama pants. She used the loosened ribbons to snake along his arm. “If there’s one thing this year has taught me, it’s that I’m stronger than I knew, Damon McNeill. And I want this.” She arched up to kiss him fully on the mouth. “You.”

He closed his eyes, a shuddering sigh rushing through him.

“I can fight myself, but I’ll be damned if I can fight you, too.”

Her smile—full of victory and feminine wisdom—torched the last of his restraint.

Kissing his way down her body, he dragged her cotton pajama pants down and off, admiring the way her skin looked in the glow from the fire across the room. Bronze flickered with shadow along her pale flesh and black lace panties. He hooked a finger in the skinny expanse of elastic on her hip and peeled that last layer away.

Her smile faded a moment before he dipped his head to kiss the dark triangle above her thighs. She shifted her legs, one smooth calf grazing his shoulder. Her skin smelled like roses—a body oil or soap maybe. Everything about her was familiar and yet different, too.

But the way she tasted…perfect. Just like he remembered.

She made tiny, helpless sounds as he kissed her intimately, losing himself in the feel of her slick heat. She twitched and wriggled, her hips rocking for a moment, her back arching. Then, she went utterly still.

He remembered that, too.

He didn’t let that slow his pace. He gripped her thighs. Steadied her. She came apart with sweet cries, her fingers gripping the sheets and twisting as the spasms rolled over her. When the last seemed to have its way with her, he tasted his way up her hip. Her stomach.

Caroline was having none of it, though. Her hands were surprisingly strong as she locked onto his arms and tried to pull him higher. He gave in to the wordless demand, prepared to please her thoroughly now that he felt sure she was relaxed. Healed.

And very ready for him.

“You did that on purpose,” she accused him breathlessly before she kissed him, attempting to roll on top of him.

“Pleasured you on purpose?” he teased, nipping her shoulder as he let her take charge. “Is that a bad thing?”

“I thought we could…” she reached beneath the covers to peel away his boxers and finished dragging them off his legs with an agile foot “…you know. Find that peak together.”

She straddled his thigh while she stroked him. The sexiest wife a man ever called his own.

“Sweetheart.” He gripped her narrow waist, molded his hands around her hips. “Your memory really has taken a hit if you don’t recall how easily we can get right back to that high point again.”

She gave him that smile again. The one he’d once planned to move mountains for.

“You’re wicked. But you’re right.” She shifted her legs, positioned herself above him and took the sweetest revenge imaginable.

* * *

Time stopped.

Caroline was sure it did for one protracted moment as she reunited with Damon in the most fundamental way.

The night wrapped around them, everything dark and shadowy except for their bodies in the reflected glow of the hearth. Skin to skin. Heart to heart. She breathed in the scent of her soap and his aftershave. Her shampoo and the fragrant applewood smoke.

Damon’s blue eyes locked with hers, communicating things he never shared in words. She couldn’t possibly understand him. She knew this much, though. There was no denying their connection. It had to mean something. The longing for him. Craving him. Missing him.

In her mind and her heart, that added up to a new hope.

“Caroline.” His voice was gruff with unfulfilled desire, reminding her he hadn’t reached that finish point he’d already given her.

Gladly, she lost herself all over again, giving in to the feel of his hands on her hips as he guided her higher. Faster.

This was a language they understood. He made her feel beautiful. Sexual. Desirable. And she couldn’t possibly get enough of him. She wished time would stop again so they could go on and on this way, relishing every shared breath and sigh. But now, the moments sped faster, driving her toward the inevitable as pleasure twined tight inside her.