Their Precious Christmas Miracle: Mistletoe Baby / In the Spirit of...Christmas / A Baby By Christmas. Tanya Michaels
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a palm against his chest and gave him that smile again, the one he felt down to his toes. He sat, helping steady her with his hands as she straddled his lap. The urge to bury himself inside her, to reclaim what was his, was overwhelming. But he hadn’t touched her in weeks—hadn’t truly explored her in months—and he refused to deny either of them the experience.
Reaching up, he cupped her breasts together, still gentle but merciless in his attention, running his thumbs over the peaks, bringing her close enough to his mouth to suckle. When she cried out, he had to double-check that he hadn’t caused her any discomfort.
“No,” she assured him. “More.” Her voice sounded exactly like the woman he’d once thought he knew as well as himself, but also not. It was a dizzying, exotic contrast.
He continued to use his tongue and lips against her sensitive flesh, and she bucked in his lap. Edging one finger beneath the band of her panties, he found her slick and ready for him. Having been pushed to exquisite, excruciating limits, he yanked down the combined waistbands of his pants and boxers. She braced one hand on the sofa back for balance while she shimmied out of her own underwear and he sat paralyzed, absorbed in the sheer joy of watching her, the warm light of the end-table lamp bathing her lush curves in gold. She looked like a decadent, pagan treasure. His treasure.
Kissing her again, he slid her across his thighs, so close now that all rational thought fractured and flew. Meshing his hands in her hair, he angled her head back, wanting to look into her eyes as he thrust upward and impaled her. For just a second, their gazes were locked together as intimately as their bodies. Then she leaned forward, rocking in a rhythm that quickly doubled and grew frantic. Fingers clutched on slippery skin and half-formed words of carnal praise were traded breathlessly.
She called out his name, one of the few coherent things either of them managed, just as her muscles constricted around him. Feeling like an exile finally home, David tightened his embrace and lost himself inside her.
Chapter Thirteen
They lay together stretched out on the couch for some time, dozing but neither of them falling asleep for long. David idly massaged the small of Rachel’s back, which she seemed to like, judging from the occasional sighs.
He kissed the top of her head. “I don’t think you told me—what actually tipped Ari off about the baby?”
“A combination of a couple of different things. A biggie seemed to be our lunch with her the other day. She said it was obvious there was something we weren’t telling her.”
The comment lodged under his skin like a splinter. He and Rachel had definitely been keeping secrets, and not only the happy news of the pregnancy. As for the other? It was probably impolitic to ask where they stood relationship-wise while he still had her naked against him. They’d dragged an afghan over their bodies as their temperatures dropped back to normal, but neither of them had bothered to dress. Just being around Rachel when she was this uninhibited made him want her again.
Would she expect him to stay the night, or would taking a step that gargantuan be overkill? Despite himself, he grinned. After what they’d just shared, it was hard to imagine anything else being seen as too much, too soon. “I hate to leave you, but I guess I should get back to the dogs.”
She nodded. “I suppose that’s the responsible thing to do.”
He felt around for various pieces of clothing while she watched, her expression inscrutable. “Rach, I can’t tell you how glad I am that you called.”
She shot him a smile so wicked it was probably illegal in fifteen states. “Well, you kept saying that if there was anything I needed …”
He laughed out loud, a tremendous weight off his chest. For the first time all year, he felt deep down in his soul that they were going to be okay. It would take work, and it wouldn’t happen overnight, but they were going to be okay.
His mother was right—this was the season of miracles.
WHITE ROSES awaited Rachel when she walked into work on Wednesday morning.
May nodded toward them with an approving grin. “Someone loves you.”
The words gave Rachel warm fuzzies. All morning, though, the quick pulses of joy were followed by nervousness. When she’d suggested to David in November that they go their separate ways, she’d been almost numb. Even he, by tacit admission and his total lack of protest, had acknowledged how much their relationship had deteriorated. Now … Last night had been like regaining feeling in a frostbitten extremity. Along with the extreme pleasure he’d brought her, he’d awakened a dormant pain. Because, for the first time in a long time, she truly realized how much she had to lose.
She made herself wait half an hour, rather than give in to her eager impulse to call him. Instead, she contacted Belle Fulton with some bids she’d put together for the chamber of commerce, then helped May organize a promotional calendar for the coming new year, with seasonally themed discounts and specials. The entire time, David was at the back of her mind, patiently waiting.
Her fingers shook as she dialed the number she knew by heart, and she smiled wryly. Where was the brazen woman who’d slowly stripped for her husband the night before? Had he guessed that when she reached for that first button, part of her had been petrified? It had been so worth it, though. She’d felt glorious, powerful, cherished.
“Waide Supply. David Waide speaking.”
“Hey. This is Rachel Waide speaking.”
She could feel him smile into the phone. “Hey, gorgeous. I was just thinking about you. Of course, that’s because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I left last night.”
“Glad to know I made an impression.” She glanced around, making sure May was busy and out of earshot, then lowered her voice. “So, I was thinking.”
“Go on,” he encouraged. “It worked out really well the last time you called me to share your thoughts.”
She laughed, but the nervousness that had been dogging her expanded sharply in her lungs—like when you take too deep a breath in really cold air. “David, last night was wonderful, but it might have been a bit … premature. We might have moved a little fast.”
“I was really hoping this conversation was going to go differently,” he said, forlorn.
“But I liked the direction we were moving in,” she added. “I thought maybe we could, um, date for a little while? I know, you probably think it sounds stupid, but—”
“It sounds a whole hell of a lot better than losing you,” he said emphatically.
Relief coursed through her. “In that case, I ordered two tickets to the Winter Wonderland Dance. What are you doing Friday night?”
INSTEAD OF falling into the family business, Tanner Waide had struck out on his own. He ran a small but steadily growing bookkeeping service out of his apartment. In fact, despite what Lilah and Tanner conveniently let their parents and guardians believe until after the wedding, David suspected that makeshift office was about the only purpose the apartment served anymore. During work hours, when Lilah was at the school, Tanner could almost always be found here.
David knocked, more relieved than he would have expected when his brother called out, “Just a sec!”
A moment later, the door swung wide. “Dave, hey. Come on in, but watch your step. My lease is up at the end of the month, and it’s a maze of boxes in here.”
“I see that.” The little one-bedroom had never been much to look at, but with so many of Tanner’s personal belongings already packed, the place was dingier than usual. Was this Mistletoe’s answer to a bachelor pad? He shuddered, wondering how close he’d come to a future that looked like this.
“What’s up?” Tanner asked.
David sat on the lumpy orange sofa the landlord had thrown in with