Pregnant by the Colton Cowboy

by Lara Lacombe

  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to interpret that dream. And given the events of the last few days, was it any wonder she was having nightmares?

  She rubbed her eyes, wincing a little as the irritated tissue burned in response to her touch. Her skin smelled like ash and soot, and a fine grit covered her body. Time to shower; she really hadn’t meant to fall asleep without cleaning up first, but the bed had been so comfortable... She’d wanted to stay awake until Thorne returned, but while the spirit had been willing, the flesh had been weak.

  She stretched, arching her back off the mattress. A movement to her right caught her eye, and she glanced over to find Thorne watching her, his light brown eyes warm and his lips curved in a half smile.

  “Hi,” he said, his voice husky with smoke and sleep.

  “Hi.” Her stomach fluttered at the sight of him lying next to her. How many times had she fantasized about this very moment? How many times over the past few months had she woken up alone, the pillow beside her cold in the morning light? Seeing him now was like a dream come to life, and she was half-afraid to blink, lest he vanish without warning.

  “How are you feeling?”

  She considered the question for a second as she mentally surveyed her body, checking for any new aches and pains. “I’m okay,” she said, a little surprised to find it was true. “What about you? You’re the one who carried me out and then went back in for Rose. You’ve got to be sore.”

  “A little,” he admitted. “But I feel a lot better now that I got some sleep.”

  Maggie reached out and touched her fingertip to a smudge of soot on his cheek. “You look a little worse for wear.”

  He responded by trailing his hand down her arm. A pleasant shiver followed his touch, and her skin stippled with goose bumps. “I hate to break it to you,” he murmured, “but you’re looking a bit rough around the edges, as well.”

  “I guess we could both use a shower.”

  He smiled. “Yep. Why don’t you go ahead? I’m going to call Mac and check on things, and maybe find something for us to eat in the kitchen.”

  “You’re sure you don’t mind?” Maggie was desperate to be clean again, but Thorne had to be feeling even worse. She could wait a bit longer if he wanted to go first...

  “Not at all,” he said. He climbed out of bed and stretched, the movement shifting the hem of his shirt. Maggie caught a tantalizing glimpse of soot-darkened skin over toned muscle and her body flushed, a wave of warmth spreading through her limbs. Her skin tingled with the memory of his touches in the barn, and she wondered briefly if they would get a chance to pick up where they’d left off...

  If Thorne noticed her reaction, he didn’t show it. He walked around the bed and extended his hand as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Maggie slid her hand into his, shivering slightly at the raspy feel of his calluses against the skin of her palm.

  He tugged gently, helping her stand. He kept hold of her hand as he led her down the hall, stopping at the bathroom door. “Mac always has fresh towels in the linen closet. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. “Take your time.”

  Thorne turned and started down the hall. Maggie’s heart lurched as she watched him leave—she didn’t want to be alone. Not right now, after this most recent attempt on their lives.

  “Wait.” She called out before she could second-guess the impulse.

  Thorne stopped and turned back, one eyebrow arched in question. “Is everything all right?”

  Maggie paused for second as she conducted a quick, yet agonizing, mental debate. She had two choices: tell Thorne she was fine and watch him walk away, or call him back.

  He wasn’t leaving her, not really. She was just being overly sensitive, thanks to recent events. If she let him go, they could resume their conversation from the barn after they had both showered and eaten, when things were more normal.

  Or she could ask him to stay.

  It was a possibility that both thrilled and terrified her in equal measures. If Thorne accepted her invitation, it would usher in a new chapter in their relationship. She was ready to reconnect with Thorne on a physical and emotional level; she craved it, in fact, needing the reassurances that only physical touch could provide. But she didn’t want to rush him into anything. While his kiss in the barn had been full of passion, Thorne might prefer to pick things up again at a more romantic time.

  The safe option would be to wave him off, to tell him she was fine and have him continue on his way. But if recent events had taught her anything, it was that there were no guarantees in life. It would be nice to make love with Thorne on a blanket under the stars, after a private, candlelit dinner. But they might not ever get that chance. And if she didn’t take every opportunity to be with him, she knew she would regret it.

  “I—I want you to stay. With me,” she added, feeling her cheeks heat.

  “Oh.” He sounded surprised, as if that was the last thing he’d expected to hear.

  “We don’t have to do anything,” she said, feeling a little self-conscious at having this conversation in the middle of Mac’s hallway. “I just want to be by you. Is that all right?”

  “Oh, Maggie,” Thorne said, his voice husky. He walked toward her, his eyes bright with emotion. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time.”

  Chapter 18

  Thorne followed Maggie into the bathroom, his heart tripping against his breastbone as they stepped into the small space. He knew this was a big step forward for them, and he wanted to make sure everything was perfect.

  He hadn’t really thought of a bathroom as romantic before, but maybe he could fix that. He glanced around, taking it all in. Mac’s redecorating hadn’t stopped with Thorne’s old bedroom—the bathroom had gotten an overhaul, as well.

  White subway tiles extended up from the edges of the bathtub, clean and crisp against the soft green walls that reminded him of spring grass. A long, white marble counter extended down the wall, and a cluster of candles sat on a silver tray. Perfect.

  Thorne turned to Maggie, inspiration taking root in his mind. “Can you give me a minute?” he said. He opened one of the cabinets under the counter and pulled out a fluffy towel, which he handed to her. “Why don’t you go back to the room and trade your clothes for this? I’ll get the bath going.”

  “Okay.” Her expression was openly curious, but she turned and left without protest.

  “I won’t take long,” he called after her. He shut the bathroom door quietly and flipped on the water, then crouched and started digging through the cabinets. Towels—yes, they would need those. He set them by the tub and continued his search. Matches, surely there were matches somewhere... Ah, yes, there in the corner. He slapped them on the counter as well, then grabbed a small bottle of what he hoped was soap.

  He sniffed experimentally, and was rewarded by a floral scent. Not his usual preference, but he was willing to make an exception. Thorne added a generous dollop to the running water, smiling as a rich lather formed. His was looking forward to seeing Maggie in nothing but bubbles.

  Now for the candles. He lit a match, but paused before touching the flame to the wick. It was clear the candles had never been used before—his father had probably put them there only for decoration, not to be functional. “Sorry, Dad,” he muttered. He made a mental note to buy Mac new candles and tossed the spent match in the trash.

  He shut off the water just as a soft knock sounded at the door, and he opened it to find Maggie standing in the hall, clutching the towel around her torso. “I waited as long as I could,” she said, smiling shyly.

  “Come in.” Thorne took a step back so she could enter. She brushed past him as she walked toward the tub, and he heard a soft hitch in her breathing when she caught sight of the bubbles.

 
; “Oh, my,” she whispered. She glanced at the candles flickering on the counter, then at the pile of towels he’d placed by the tub. “You’ve been busy.”

  Pleasure bloomed in his chest at her reaction. Maggie deserved so much more, but he was happy she liked what he had managed to throw together.

  “Can I help you into the bath?”

  She glanced from the water to him and back again, biting her lower lip. “Aren’t you going to get in as well?”

  “Later,” he said, taking her hand. Maggie looked like she wanted to say something, but she allowed him to lead her to the edge of the tub. With only a second’s hesitation, she released her grip on the towel, setting it free to land in a puddle at her feet.

  It took every ounce of his self-control to help her into the tub, when what Thorne really wanted to do was stare at the gorgeous display of Maggie’s pale skin and beautiful curves. He took a mental snapshot of her body as she sank into the water, comparing the image to his memory of her from their night together. Her body had changed a lot, thanks to the pregnancy. Her breasts were fuller and her hips appeared wider. And then there was the roundness of her belly, an arch he ached to caress with his hands.

  Soon, he told himself, taking a deep breath. This was about Maggie, what she wanted. He was going to follow her lead and let her set the pace.

  Thorne knelt and reached for the sponge on the side of the tub. He dipped it into the warm water and applied some of the soap, then took Maggie’s hand and lifted her arm out of the water. Moving slowly, he rubbed the sponge over her skin, washing away the soot and the stench of smoke.

  He repeated the process for her other arm, then her legs. Maggie leaned back, her gaze hooded as she silently watched him.

  Thorne let her foot slip through his grasp and reached for her shoulder, gently pulling her forward so he could wash her back. It was getting harder and harder for him to control his reactions—he’d meant for the bath to be a relaxing experience for Maggie, but touching her like this, his hands sliding over her warm, naked skin, was almost too much to bear. His inner caveman wanted to haul her out of the tub and carry her to bed so he could slake his lust with her body. He quashed the urge, but his growing arousal clawed at the edges of his composure, a wild beast demanding to be set free.

  His hands shook as he started to wash Maggie’s shoulders, the sponge skipping over sections of her skin as he moved. He swallowed hard as he soaped the swells of her breasts and nearly groaned when her nipples puckered in response to his attentions.

  Maggie made a soft sound and shifted, her hips lifting off the bottom of the tub as he dragged the sponge across her breasts again. He glanced up at her face, wanting to see her reaction.

  Her eyes were closed, her brows drawn together in a slight frown as if she was concentrating. Her lips were parted slightly, and he could tell by the way she moved in the water that she had given herself over to feeling, to the sensations he was triggering in her body.

  He touched her again, this time with his hand instead of the sponge. She gasped and jerked up, seeking more of his touch.

  “Sensitive spot?” He recalled she had enjoyed this before, as well. Apparently, the pregnancy had served to heighten some of her responses.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice sounding strangled.

  Thorne smiled in satisfaction, his own arousal heightening as he focused on giving Maggie pleasure. He might not be good with words, but he could show Maggie how much he loved her by his actions. And after tonight, he wanted there to be no doubts left in her mind as to his intentions.

  He ran his hands over her body, pressing here, trailing featherlight touches there. Maggie’s responses were totally uninhibited, her reactions telling him as clearly as any words what she enjoyed and wanted.

  Thorne was only too happy to oblige.

  It was only a matter of minutes before she grabbed his arm, her fingernails digging into his skin as her whole body tensed, her back arching like a drawn bow. Then she sank into the water with a shudder and a sigh, her muscles going lax with her release.

  Thorne shifted to smooth the hair back from her face and pressed soft kisses to her closed eyelids, her nose, her cheeks. She was so beautiful, her skin flushed from both the bath and her passion. If he lived to be a hundred years old, he’d never grow tired of seeing her like this.

  He cupped the gentle swell of her belly, the firm roundness fitting perfectly into his palms. Could the baby feel his touch? Or was it too early for that? In his mind’s eye, he pictured a tiny, perfectly formed child, floating peacefully in the warm waters of its sac. It was a powerful image, and he felt both energized and humbled thinking about the miraculous process taking place under his touch.

  Maggie’s hands landed on his, her skin soft and warm. Thorne glanced up to find her watching him, a look of unguarded love on her face. “Pretty special, isn’t it?”

  He nodded, not trusting his voice. He didn’t think he could adequately describe the emotions building in his chest and the thoughts whirring through his mind. The sense of wonder he felt when he looked at her, when he touched her like this. How fascinating he found it all, the way a baby was forming, hidden and quiet inside her body. The magnitude of love he felt for this little person he hadn’t even met yet. His desire—no, his need—to do right by his child. His joy at knowing Maggie was his, that she wanted to be with him as much as he wanted to be with her. And the faint sense of terror that he was going to do something to screw it all up.

  Thorne swallowed hard. “I don’t have the words,” he said simply.

  Maggie smiled and reached up to touch his cheek. “You don’t need them,” she said softly. “Your actions are enough.”

  He turned his head and kissed her palm, gratitude building in his chest along with a sense of relief. She understood, and she didn’t hold his lack of pretty phrases against him. It was yet another reason why he loved her, as if he needed one.

  They stayed like that for a few minutes, silently communing over the miracle they had created. Then Maggie stretched and sat up. “I thought you said you were going to join me.”

  Thorne eyed the tub and shook his head. “I want to, but there’s no way we’ll both fit. There’s not enough room for the two of us.”

  “That’s okay.” Maggie reached for one of the towels, casting him a mischievous glance. “You can have it all to yourself.”

  She stood, sending water cascading over and off her body. It landed on him in cold, annoying drips, but he kept his focus on her. “What do you mean?” He wrapped her in the towel, rubbing the thick fabric against her skin to keep her warm. He knew he needed to clean up, but he didn’t want to leave her. Not after what they’d just shared.

  Maggie leaned over and reached for the faucet, cranking on the tap again. A new froth of bubbles foamed at the influx of water, and steam curled into the air. “I mean,” she said, tugging at the hem of his shirt until he was forced to lift his arms. “It’s your turn for a bath.”

  She started on his jeans next, tugging the zipper down in one smooth motion. He caught his breath as her fingers grazed him through the cotton of his boxers, the sensitive tissue already stirring to attention. He knew she was simply trying to help him out of his clothes so he could clean up, but his body wasn’t capable of such discernment.

  He placed his hands on her wrists, gently intercepting her hands. “Let me.” If she kept touching him, he was going to embarrass himself. “Do you want to get dressed while I wash up?” She was bound to be getting cold, and he didn’t want her to feel any kind of discomfort, especially if he could do something about it.

  “No.”

  His jeans dropped to the floor and he paused, the implications of her response sinking in. His body flushed hot and his skin tingled as he recognized the shifting currents of power in the room. Maggie had started out at his mercy, but now it seemed she was
intent on taking control.

  She ran her gaze over his body, her eyes tracing his shoulders, his stomach, his thighs. She took her time, surveying him thoroughly, and he fought the urge to squirm, feeling the weight of her regard like a touch. Her lips curved in a smile of feminine satisfaction, as if she knew exactly the effect she was having on him. And why wouldn’t she? His body’s response wasn’t exactly subtle...

  “Get in.”

  Thorne smiled to himself, enjoying the note of command in her tone. It seemed his Maggie had a bit of an authoritative streak. Good; that would make things more interesting.

  He sank into the warm water, his muscles relaxing even as his arousal seemed to intensify. Maggie’s hands landed on his shoulders, guiding him until he was leaning against the back of the tub, his legs stretched out before him, knees bent to accommodate the small space.

  “Close your eyes,” she instructed.

  He hesitated a second, reluctant to lose his view of Maggie’s face. But then her fingers wrapped around him, and the resulting jolt of pleasure sent his eyes rolling back in his head.

  * * *

  Maggie couldn’t help but smile as Thorne let out a low moan of pleasure. She ran her fingers up and down his length experimentally, playing with this newfound power she possessed.

  His reaction didn’t disappoint. His body tensed, muscles cording and rippling under the water. An electric thrill raced through her limbs at the realization she was capable of affecting him so drastically with such a simple touch.

  She spent the next several moments exploring his body, giving her hands free rein to roam across his broad shoulders, taut abdomen and the vulnerable flesh between his legs. Thorne encouraged her, using his big hands to guide her movements over his soap-slippery skin. His voice was husky as he whispered to her, his words ranging from instructions to garbled exclamations of pleasure.

  Maggie was an eager student, filing away his reactions as she learned just how he liked to be touched. She ran her index finger along the curve of his collarbone, making him shiver. She leaned forward and bit his earlobe, her hand finding his erection again. He gasped and arched his back, the water sloshing in the tub as he moved.