Luminous green eyes turned to him.
“How should we do this?” he asked, uncertain if being on top of her was okay.
“I don’t know.” She bit her lip. “I haven’t had sex since this baby was conceived, so…I’m not sure how it works.”
He sucked in a breath. “It was that night in Los Angeles, wasn’t it?”
She nodded, watching him.
“I’m glad,” he whispered. “I’m glad it was just the two of us.”
“Me, too.”
He pressed his face between her breasts, breathed in her peachy scent, then kissed the inside curve of each full breast. When he kissed a nipple, she drew in a sharp breath. “Oh.”
He lifted his head. “Okay?”
“Mmm. My nipples are sensitive. And…”
“What?”
“They’ve been…um…leaking a little bit.”
He swallowed. He stared down at the puckered nipples, bigger, darker pink, beautiful. “Can I…”
“Yes.” Her hands went to his head. “I want you to.”
He took a nipple in his mouth and sucked, rubbed his tongue over it. She tasted so sweet and her whimpers told him she loved what he did to her. He moved to the other nipple, tasted it too, played with it with his mouth while his fingers plucked at the other, tested the weight of her breast, squeezed it gently.
“That feels so good,” she moaned, fingers sifting through his hair. Her body twitched and writhed against him. “So good.”
He drew back to study her nipples after his attention, now even redder and stiffer and he watched in fascination as tiny white droplets slowly formed on the tips. “Oh, God,” he breathed. Krissa lifted her head to look at herself.
“That’s what I mean,” she murmured.
A fist squeezed his throat and his heart thumped hard. “Do you want to be on top?”
She gazed up at him. “I don’t know. I think it’s okay if you are.”
He moved over her and she reached for his cock, long, hard and throbbing. Her hands on him felt sublime, soft yet firm, stroking him in long pulls that sent pleasure licking over his skin.
“Inside me,” she said. “Please.”
“Yeah.” He let her guide him into her, felt her wetness, then her heat surrounded the head of his cock. Hot velvet, squeezing him. A low, rough sound tore from his throat. He held his weight on his elbows and really, she wasn’t that big, he just straightened his arms a bit to hold his body higher. She parted her legs wider, and he pushed into her in. The air ripped out of his lungs.
“Krissa, oh, God.”
“I know.” Her hands clutched his ass, pulled him deeper. “Fuck me, Nate.”
His groans mingled with her sighs as their bodies came together, perfect, easy and right. He surged into her, their connection intimate, joining not just their bodies but their hearts and their souls. Something touched him inside, a searing, exquisite sensation that he recognized as love. Something he thought he’d never feel again. And at that moment he knew he’d never felt this kind of love before. An overwhelming desire to protect and take care of her and their child, to be with them forever, made his eyes sting.
It hurt. Love hurt. It hurt like hell to think he’d found that kind of love with her, and lost her. He wasn’t even sure if she’d been his to lose, yet he’d known she had feelings for him, too, after that night in L.A. It made him wonder why he was so grateful to her for ripping open those old wounds, for letting him feel the pain he’d managed to avoid for years. And now he knew why.
Because love was a tender torment, an irresistible anguish that made everything else worthwhile. There was nothing else that mattered.
His hands framed her face, and his gaze held hers. He saw a reflection of his own devotion, his own longing, his own hope in her eyes, drawing him in. “I love you, Krissa. I love you.”
Her hands stroked over his back and he felt the tenderness in her touch, heard her pleasure in her muffled whimpers, leaned in and felt her love in the brush of her breath against his mouth. “I love you, too, Nate.”
Her body tightened beneath him and around him as she climaxed, squeezing him inside and out. She cried out and he watched her face, humbled by her beauty, by the ecstasy he saw there because of him, awed and gratified by her love. Pressure built at the base of his spine and in his balls, building to his own exquisite peak of pleasure. Her hands gripped his hips as he drove into her one…more…time…and exploded. Lights flashed as his lids squeezed shut against the intensity of his orgasm, and when he poured himself into her in long, hard almost painful pulses, he felt truly joined to this woman.
They settled beneath the soft warmth of the duvet, curled into each other. The protrusion of her tummy still felt unfamiliar but he liked it. He pressed his cheek against the top of her head and smiled.
“You’re sure Peanut doesn’t know what we’re doing?”
She laughed. “Yes.”
He loved her arms around him, stroking his back, down over the curve of his ass, dragging her fingers up the crevice there. Jesus, he was going to be hard again in two minutes if she kept that up.
“Where did you go when you left?” she asked him in a drowsy voice.
“To my parents.”
“Good.” He heard the satisfaction in her voice and smiled.
“Yeah. Thanks to you.”
“Why me?”
“I owe you everything, Krissa.”
She tilted her head back to look at him.
“I was…dead. Inside. After Lauren died, and then I found out about her cheating, I just…shut down. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, didn’t want sympathy. I didn’t want to talk to people who knew us, who would be all ‘poor Lauren, such a wonderful girl’ when I knew the truth, and yet, I didn’t want to tell people about it, either. So I just avoided everyone who knew us. Ran away and took pictures.”
“And did damn good at it.”
“Yeah. But I was feeling…nothing. And then when my eyes were screwed, I was just pissed off at everything and everyone. Until you.”
He held her gaze.
“You made me feel stuff again, Krissa. You made me feel good. God, you made me feel more than good. You ripped holes in me.” She blinked at him, her smile quivering. “But when I started feeling good, all the bad stuff came, too. I didn’t want to feel it—I didn’t want to hurt. I didn’t want to feel the pain of being betrayed or losing someone I loved, but I started to feel that too, two years later. I didn’t want to fall in love again.” He shook his head, touched her cheek with gentle fingers. “And when I realized what I’d felt for Lauren was nothing compared to what I felt for you…Christ, it scared the hell out of me. Especially knowing you belonged to someone else.”
He closed his eyes, heard her small murmur. “When we first slept together, it was supposed to be a donation. Nothing more. No feelings involved.”
“I knew that. It hurt me.”
“I know. I tried to make it better for you after that, but I didn’t realize my own feelings were going to get all mixed up in it. Like you ripped something open and it all came spilling out.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, it was good. I needed that. I don’t know what would have happened to me if I’d never dealt with all that stuff—the grief, the anger I felt toward Lauren. I’m afraid of what might’ve happened to me.”