by Sarah Hegger
His cock jutted from between his thighs, heavy and tumescent, and she needed to feel him inside her.
He stepped between her legs, spreading them wide. He ran his hands from her knees, over her thighs, and into the soft thatch of hair. His expression intensified as his fingers slipped over her slickness and into her body, first one and then another.
“Ah, Holly, baby,” he said. “You’re so wet and ready for me.”
Holly’s body tightened around his fingers, greedily demanding more. He removed his hand and fit the head of his cock against her opening.
“Wait.” Holly grabbed his wrist. “Protection.”
“Shit.” He reached for his jeans. His hands shook as he ripped a foil packet open.
She took it from him, stroking his erection, wrapping her fingers around it.
He groaned, frowning in concentration as she explored him.
“Please, Holly.” He grimaced, and she slipped the sheath over his flesh. “Take me inside you.”
He slid her onto his shaft.
Her body stretched to accommodate him, pulsing around him.
He eased into her slowly, his breath hissing between his teeth as he fought for control.
Holly writhed, her body needy and demanding, but he grabbed her hips and held her still until he was fully enveloped. The throbbing fullness inside her was incredible, a feeling of completion that shook her to the core.
“You’re perfect, Holly, perfect.” His eyes met hers and held her with his sheer intensity.
He moved, slow and shallow at first, allowing her body to get used to the invasion. He filled her completely, drawing out longer and longer strokes and pushing all the way back into her.
Holly’s orgasm built deep and she grabbed onto him, her nails digging into the skin of his ass and his back as she urged him onward. Harder and faster he went, responding to the signals of her body, until with a shout Holly came.
He surged hard and strong, once, twice, and then he joined her, his body going taut as a bowstring above her as he climaxed. “Fuck.”
Holly clung to his chest like a limpet, incapable of moving. His curse struck her as inordinately funny and she giggled.
“I think you broke me.” He moved his weight off her and onto his elbows. The rumble of his laughter joined hers.
“It’s been a while,” she said.
“For you and me both.”
Holly had trouble believing that, and she peeked up to see if he was lying.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “It’s been awhile for both of us.”
It shouldn’t have made any difference, but it did. It made her special somehow.
“I’ll be back.” Josh levered himself off her, strode through the door naked, and disposed of the condom in the bathroom. He walked back toward her.
She blushed, exposed and spread over the kitchen table like dinner. Holly sat up and reached for her clothes.
He snagged the T-shirt before she could put it over her head.
“Hey.” Holly tried to grab her shirt.
“Uh-uh.” He tossed the shirt across the room. “It took me long enough to get you out of this.”
“Two days,” Holly sneered.
“And the intervening years.”
“Get serious.” But his words caused a curious warm glow in the pit of her stomach.
He upended her and tossed her over his shoulder. “We’re not done, you and I.”
“What the hell are you doing?” Holly shrieked and stuffed her hand in her mouth. Portia was just down the hall. Guilt gave a small tug, but Holly stamped on it.
“I’m taking you to my bed, woman.”
“Put me down,” she said, torn between outrage and laughter. “This is such primitive, sexist behavior. This is a perfect example of men thinking they know what women want.”
He trotted her down the hall and up the stairs to the bedrooms.
“For your information, women don’t like these overbearing displays of masculine strength. They don’t like being held ass over tip and jostled against someone’s shoulder.”
She was such a liar.
“I’m making notes here, Holly.” He gave her butt a territorial pat. “Are you done with the lecture?”
“Why?” They were in a bedroom. It was novel, seeing a room upside down for the first time.
He flipped her over and she fell in an inelegant, panting heap across the huge bed. “Because,” he came down on top of her, pinning her beneath his big body before she could roll away, “I want to get it on.”
“Again?” Holly squeaked at him.
He lowered his mouth. “Hell yeah.”
Chapter Eighteen
Josh lay still for a moment and absorbed the sensation of waking with Holly in his arms. He’d woken up with women before, but waking up with Holly was unique, as if he’d embarked on an entirely different adventure. He didn’t probe the notion too deeply. A truth hovered outside of his willingness to look in that direction.
Instead, he turned his head to study his bunkmate.
She slept curled into a fetal ball facing him. Her legs pressed up against his side as if she simultaneously pushed him away and needed to touch him. She made him want to grin like an idiot. Vixen. It was a good word—small, feral, and absolutely savage.
He sat up. He instantly missed the physical contact. He was fucked. Here he was, thirty-one years old, one of Chicago’s most sought-after bachelors, and he was chin deep in the shit. And why? Because she’d bustled back into his life and he wanted to keep her.
She murmured in her sleep. A line furrowed between her brows as if, even in sleep, Holly carried the weight of her burdens with her.
It was all rather predictable. The one woman who wasn’t chasing him. The one who got away. And despite thinking of himself as an individual and fiercely guarding his independence, he sat here, watched her battle dragons in her sleep, and planned how to keep her by his side. He’d got her into his bed last night with every intention of doing so again tonight, but for how long?
Ah, shit. The situation teetered on the edge of impossible. The helplessness fastened around his throat. He couldn’t help Holly, and Portia was way outside of his understanding. He didn’t see a happy ending here, and that really bothered him. Holly would need to choose, and he had a sneaking suspicion he already knew what her choice would be.
He avoided dwelling on the question and lumbered to the bathroom.
His reflection glared back at him. It was a good-looking face. People had been telling him that since preschool. He wasn’t going to be disingenuous and pretend he had no idea. He’d certainly used his looks to his advantage since he stopped thinking girls had cooties and started taking a real interest in what girls did have.
Leaning down, he splashed water over his face. The cold hit him like a kick in the pants. Damn, he was awake now. His hands rasped along the dark line of his beard. He would shave later. He needed to go for a bike ride, try to clear his head. His triathlon loomed up on him. It had stopped mattering to him some time ago, but he was committed now. Beating Richard was as much a habit as his coffee in the morning.
Holly could tell by the way the light hit the blinds it was later than she usually slept. A strange sensation glimmered inside her. It took her a while to find a name for it. Good. She felt good. Not champing at the bit, raring to go, strong like a bull good, but a general feeling of well-being.
It made her want to roll over and burrow deeper into the bedding and stay there, clasping the feeling to her for a while longer. The linen smelled like Joshua and sex, and she took a deep breath. She stretched her limbs deliciously across the sheets and guessed their thread count was higher than her income statement.
Josh was such a big girl about his creature comforts.
She grinned and sat up. Where was he?
Deliberately, she tugged the comforter away and put her feet on the floor. She couldn’t lie here all day. There was plenty to be done this morning.
And Portia.
A sour taste coated the back of her throat. She would have to come up with a plan for Portia.
She didn’t rush to get ready, but she didn’t mess around either. If something was wrong, Josh would have woken her.
Josh.
Last night had been incredible. She’d discovered a side of herself she’d never even suspected existed.
But it couldn’t happen again.
Holly shook off the pinching sensation in her chest.
Portia was fixated on Josh, and it wouldn’t take much to push her over the edge. They had taken a chance last night and gotten away with it. They might not be as lucky next time.
She slammed the door on the little voice asking what about me? Someone—she assumed it was Josh—had gathered her clothes up from the kitchen and left them draped over the bottom of the bed.
Holly pulled a face at the sight of her jeans. Even she was getting tired of hauling on the same pair of jeans day after day. Hanging around with a walking fashion plate chipped away at her ego.
Across the hallway was the bathroom, a mixture of modern convenience and old-world charm. The shower nestled above a claw-foot tub, and Holly stepped in. At least his mother didn’t have his obsession with faucets, and this one she could operate.
After her shower, she followed the smell of bacon to the kitchen. A quick peek into Thomas’s room confirmed Portia was still sleeping. If Portia was entering a depression, there would be a lot of sleeping. There would be days when her sister wouldn’t be able to find the will to get out of bed.
Holly squared her shoulders. One step at a time was how they did this. First breakfast, and then she needed to make some calls.
Holly stopped dead.
There was an angel at the stove. The woman was exquisite. Blond, tall, and graceful, she moved in front of the stove and cooked what smelled like breakfast.
“Hey, beautiful.” Josh’s voice startled Holly.
The woman turned her head and smiled a big, wide, breathtaking beam of pure light.
Josh moved into Holly’s sightline and sauntered toward the woman.
Holly stood, not certain what she was seeing.
Josh had been training. Again with the gleaming torso and no shirt.
“Look at you, all sweaty and smokin’ hot.” The woman had a rich, fluid voice with a shot of cognac to make it steam.
“Oh, yeah.” Josh reached for her.
She giggled and tried to escape, but Josh grabbed her by the elbows and tugged her toward him, gentle but relentless.
Something tightened around Holly’s throat and threatened to cut off her air.
The woman turned sideways as she tried to wriggle free.
Holly gaped. She was very pregnant. Not pregnant like swollen ankles and water retention, but perfectly, beautifully, and glowingly pregnant. The pair of shorts she wore stopped high up on her killer thighs, and the only place she carried was her neat, round, and adorable baby bump.
It was the baby bump that had all of Josh’s attention as he spread his big, laborer’s hands over her swollen stomach. “Hey, baby,” he whispered to her enlarged belly. “Are you ready to meet the world yet?”
“Jeez.” The woman rolled her eyes but allowed Josh to press his ear to her belly. His expression was one of rapt attention.
Some part of Holly clamored for an explanation but another wussed out and didn’t want to hear it. All the old Josh stories rushed to the surface of her mind.
The woman wrinkled up her perfect nose and swatted at Josh’s bare shoulder with a spatula. “You stink.”
The red haze cleared. There was something familiar about the woman. Probably seen her on a billboard somewhere, or starring in a Hollywood blockbuster. She was that good-looking.
“Jesus, Joshua.” A male voice interrupted them, but Josh didn’t move. “Get off my wife. I swear to God, if I catch you with your grubby hands on her one more time, I’m going to break both your arms.”
Holly almost whimpered with relief. It wasn’t a good reaction. She wasn’t supposed to be getting attached to Joshua Hunter. Getting jealous and possessive of the man was a phenomenally stupid idea.
“She likes me better anyway.” Josh tucked the blonde under his armpit. “She only married you to get closer to me.”
“Gross.” The blonde grimaced and pushed Josh away. “You’re all sweaty.”
Richard Hunter glared at Josh. “You’re a dick.”
“What?” Josh spread his arms wide.
“There she is.” Richard turned and gave Holly his slow smile. It crept across his grave face like a surprise, all the more attractive for its unexpectedness. It changed his severely handsome features into those of a warm, approachable man. “I hope you managed to get some sleep.”
“Yes, thank you.” She got hit by an attack of shyness.
Josh gave her a sexy, intimate smile. “Babe.”
Holly’s face heated. Everyone in the kitchen could figure out what they’d done last night.
“Good morning.” She dropped her eyes short of meeting his gaze and greeted the room at large.
Josh strode over to her, and Holly’s heartbeat accelerated.
His mouth was warm on the skin of her cheek as he kissed her. “You were asleep when I left,” he said, close to her ear. “I almost woke you up, but I took pity on you.”
The woman was right; he did smell, but it was the sort of musky, male sweat smell.
“Come and meet my fabulous sister-in-law, Lucy.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her deeper into the room. “Lucy is secretly pining away for me while she settles for second best and has babies with my brother.”
“Not. Hi, Holly.” Lucy glided over to her on her Sports Illustrated legs with her hand held out. “I’ve been hearing all about your adventures.”
Gorgeous, pregnant goddess meet Frumpy, the eighth dwarf. “Er, hi.”
Brilliant. Dazzle her with your wit, why don’t you?
“You probably don’t remember me.” Lucy screwed up her face in an expression as enchanting as the last one. “I was in school with you.”
“Lucy Flint?”
Another stratospheric beam of a smile as Lucy nodded. “We weren’t in the same grade, but you were the dancer, right?”
“Right.” Holly nodded, trying not to feel quite so absurdly pleased. Who could forget Lucy Flint? In sleepy Willow Park, Lucy Flint had been like a rock star, or one of those naughty royals who kept the tabloids filled. The school had hummed with the exploits of the gorgeous and infamous Lucy.
“How are you?”
“Great.” Lucy and Richard had been an item in high school. “Are you still dancing?”
“A bit.” Holly nodded. Steven didn’t like her dancing; he thought it was demeaning.
“You were the most incredible dancer I’ve ever seen.” Lucy waved her hands through the air. “You remember, Josh?”
Josh gave her his slow, sexy smile that warmed Holly from the inside out. “Sure I do.”
“Joshua.” Lucy brandished a spatula at his head. “You are such a dog.”
“Why, thank you, Lucy.” Josh ducked the spatula. “I’m glad you noticed.”
“Go and have a shower,” Richard said.
“And put a shirt on.” Lucy turned back to Holly. “Are you hungry?”
Josh snorted with laughter, which Holly ignored. “I am, but only a bit.”
“Thank God.” Josh ambled out of the kitchen. “At least the rest of us might get fed. Between Lucy’s gestating and your appetite, I was going to suggest Richard and I go for a burger.”
“Hey.” Lucy laughed as Josh retreated down the hallway. She indicated her large belly. “Making another person here.”
Lucy focused her beautiful green eyes on Holly. “How is your sister this morning? You must let me know if there’s anything I can do.” Lucy’s face said she meant it. It wasn’t some mouthed platitude, to be forgotten before the words faded in the air. It made a place in the middle of Holly’s chest warm.
/> “There’s not much anyone can do,” Holly said. “We’re going to have to ride this out until I can get her back on her medication.”
“She’s not taking it?” Richard slid his arm around his wife’s waist.
“No.” Holly surprised herself by talking so openly about Portia’s condition. There was something about Lucy and Richard, a complete lack of judgment, that made it easy. “There’s no concrete proof either way for medication affecting the baby, but she doesn’t want to take the chance.”
“Understandable.” Lucy touched her large belly.
Richard nodded. “But dangerous; I did some reading about it last night.”
His interest touched Holly and she relaxed.
“There’s every chance of a massive case of baby blues after she delivers.” Richard’s eyes met Holly’s. She read understanding there, and compassion. “It’s a very difficult situation.”
Suddenly, Holly wanted to talk about Portia. The words came haltingly at first. Richard and Lucy didn’t push or probe, and the trickle became a flow.
By the time Josh reappeared, showered and lovely in a pair of cargo shorts and a T-shirt, breakfast was ready and Holly was over her awkwardness.
Richard helped Lucy lower her bulk onto a seat and took up the one next to her. “Jeez, Luce.” Her husband surveyed the feast. “I’m going to have to lose my baby weight by the time you give birth.”
Lucy wasn’t a yogurt and cup of strawberries girl—Canadian bacon, French toast, fluffy scrambled eggs, hash browns, and maple syrup. There were also strawberries.
Holly sat and took it all in.
Lucy grimaced at her. “I like my food.”
“I think I love you,” Holly said, and meant it.
“Well, that’s good.” Lucy bit her lip and flushed. “Because I’ve been presumptuous. Josh explained how you had lost everything in your car, and I brought you a couple of Tshirts and some shorts.” She spread her arms to indicate her belly. “Because I’m certainly not using them.”
“Um … thanks.” Holly made a mental note not to attempt to squeeze her South American, short-girl curves into Lucy’s clothing. There was a limit to how much humiliation a woman could take.
