The Baby Claim

Her head fell back to give him better access…and she caught sight of his cell phone and computer resting on an end table, bringing reminders of work too easily to mind. Damn it, she wanted to will them away. “I do have to wonder, though, Broderick. How are we going to work together if we start sleeping together? Everything is complicated enough—”

He pressed a finger to her mouth, his voice a soft brush of sound along her ear. “Let’s talk after. We’re in agreement now, aren’t we?”

To hell with computers and phones and business. This was their pocket of time together.

She all but swayed on her feet from longing as she nipped the tip of his finger. “Yes, we are.”

Arching up, she pressed her mouth to his, and oh my, he tasted familiar and new and exciting all at once. His tongue stroked over hers in a way that made her weak with longing. Hungry for more. She opened to him, pressing herself into him. The past blended with the present as she remembered that weekend so long ago and kisses they’d shared more recently. She’d always been attracted to him. Somehow, she knew that wouldn’t change with time. She knew that wasn’t the same as love, but damn, the feeling was strong.

Powerful.

Her hands took on a frenzied life and hunger of their own as she tore at his T-shirt, bunching the cotton in her fists and pulling it up over his head. And as she felt the air brush her stomach, she realized he’d done the same with her sleep shirt, until they both stood flesh to flesh. Only their pants and her sports bra separated them.

He was all muscles and calluses and hints of bristly masculine hair under her questing hands, his strength formidable as she took in the breadth of his shoulders. He felt so good she could just melt all over him. Into him. She dropped kisses onto his shoulder and down his powerful chest.

She played her fingers along the warm planes of his shoulder blades, down his spine as he backed her toward the fireplace. Their shoes fell away; his jeans and her sleep pants peeled down and off without either of them pulling away from the kiss. When she stumbled slightly the hard strength of his arms banded around her. Lowering her. Laying her to rest on the bearskin rug. The fur tickled her tingling skin, almost as tempting as Broderick’s lips kissing up the inside of one leg and down the other.

Moving upward again, he tugged at her waistband of her panties with his teeth, teasing without pulling them off, then nuzzled her stomach, stroking until it seemed his touch and mouth were everywhere. When she thought she would combust from the fire inside her, he stretched over her and kissed her. Oh my, how she’d missed being kissed, and kissed well.

“More, now,” she whispered, nipping his bottom lip. “We can go slower the next time.”

“Next time,” he growled softly. “I like the sound of that.”

Cool air brushed over her tightening nipples an instant before his mouth closed over one taught peak. His tongue flicked and circled until she writhed with pleasure. He teased the other with the stroke of his nimble fingers, and she ached to feel him, too, and explore, relearn the texture of him. Her hand glided down to cradle the rigid length of him, to stroke.

To remember.

His breath hissed from between his teeth, an encouraging moan stoking her desire until it was hotter than the flames in the fireplace. “My jeans. Pass me my jeans, so I can protect you.”

She didn’t question him for a second, just used her other hand to reach off to the side and pat until she found his pants, the denim still warm from his body. She fished in the pocket until she found his wallet, the condom. More than one. But for now, one would do.

He kicked free of his boxers at the same time he twisted the string along the hip of her bikini panties. Her lacy underwear had long been a favorite indulgence to wear under all the layers of clothes she needed to stay warm. Although right now, staying warm was the last concern on her mind.

Between the fire and this fiery man, her body was a delicious lava pool of need. She tore open the condom packet and sheathed him, held him. His eyes met and held hers as she guided him…

Inside.

A moan of pleasure rolled up her throat and free. She arched against him, the sweet pressure of him filling her, that first deep thrust almost sending her over the edge. She could have chalked it up to abstinence, but she knew better. Their connection was chemistry on overload. There was no need analyzing. And quite frankly, the last thing she wanted to do now was think. She only wanted to feel and absorb every sensation.

The bristle along his legs was a sweet abrasion as she brought her own legs up to wrap around his waist. The taste of the perspiration as she kissed his jaw was like ambrosia. The slick glide of their bodies against each other ramped up her pleasure with every roll of her hips. Each gasp of pleasure took in the scent of him mixed with the earthy air of the fireplace.