The Surgeon's Secret Baby

by Christopher, Ann

  “It should have been like this,” he said. “When you conceived Jalen. It should have been exactly like this.”

  She didn’t answer, but her face softened and, swear to God, it was like she was glowing, as though he’d captured the sun and held it right there in his arms.

  With one hard surge, he drove himself deep into the unbearably tight center of her body and began to thrust, losing himself in her cries…in their shared pleasure…in Lia.

  “Wake up.” The whispered voice in Lia’s ear was as persistent as the hands stroking her body were relentless. Oh, wait, and there were lips at play, too, nuzzling at the tender spot at her nape, the one that always made her squirm with pleasure. “Wake up, Lia.”

  Consciousness came slowly, bringing equal doses of bewilderment and contentment with it. There was a man in her bed for the first time in years. How strange.

  Thomas was in her bed. How perfect.

  Thomas. He was worth waking up for. She smiled into her pillow, grateful her back was to him and he couldn’t see her face, and cracked her eyes open wide enough to discover that the sun’s rays were trying to peep through the blinds.

  They were spooned together, with her butt nestled against his groin, his muscular thighs beneath hers, the front of his body providing enough warmth to scald all down her back.

  He was hard again and his hands were on the move. His bottom arm was hooked up over her shoulder, giving him access to cup and knead her breasts, and his other arm had inched its way between her thighs, spreading her open just enough to glide a couple of his long fingers back and forth over her slick and aching sex. And she was now so hopelessly hooked on his fingers, mouth and body that, despite a wild and mostly sleepless night, she couldn’t wait to have him inside her. Again.

  Was this how an addiction was born? If so, someone needed to get the Betty Ford Center on speed dial for her and fast.

  The murmuring continued. “Lia. I need you, baby. Wake up.”

  Another simpering grin into her pillow. “You can’t possibly need anything.”

  Against the back of her neck, she felt the curve of his answering smile. “Last time. And then I’ll leave you alone.” A pause. “For a while, anyway.”

  She stretched her arms high overhead, languid as a cat. “I’m tired. You didn’t let me sleep.”

  “You can take a nap later.”

  “Hmm.” Her surrender was a foregone conclusion, but still, he should have to work for it a little. “I’m sore.”

  Sore was an understatement. She was stretched and achy, her lower parts so exhausted from the relentless workout Thomas had given them that it would be a wonder if she could walk unaided when he finally let her out of bed. They’d explored each other from so many angles that they’d probably worked their way through half the positions in the Kama Sutra, and she was wrecked, probably forever. Never in her life had her body responded to a man like this; never before had she been this strung out on rapture.

  If he wanted it, and it was in her power to give it, it was his. All he had to do was ask.

  “I promise,” he said, licking her ear, “that I’ll be gentle.”

  “Well,” she said, turning to straddle him so that she was on top. “If you insist.”

  “I insist.”

  But neither of them moved.

  She levered high on her arms, staring down into his bright brown eyes, her hair in her face and her nipples just inches from his mouth, if he chose to partake. He stared up at her with rapt intensity, his hands gliding up and down her sides and across her back and shoulders with the gentlest, most tender touch imaginable.

  And she thought, with a sweet ache of pain that centered in her chest but touched every part of her body, that she was in real danger of falling in love with this man and probably getting her heart broken, because what were the chances of a playboy surgeon settling down for good with his widowed baby mama?

  Then it got worse.

  “Brace yourself,” he softly told her, unsmiling. “I’m about to say something corny.”

  “What is it?”

  He didn’t want to say it; she could see that. It was in the way his Adam’s apple bobbed and his eyes darkened with turbulence. It was in the way he opened his mouth but couldn’t produce any words for several long beats.

  She waited.

  “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  He said it so low that she read his lips more than heard it. But it was enough.

  Reaching between them, she took him in her hand and eased herself down his length, impaling herself as far as she could go and shuddering with the exquisite friction.

  “Show me,” she said.

  With a raw groan, he shifted his weight and tumbled her on her back so that he was on top, hooked one of his elbows behind one of her knees, to spread her wider and go deeper, and did just that.

  Chapter 13

  “Well, look who it is.” An hour later, now showered and dressed and working on a batch of pancakes in the kitchen, Lia watched her sleepy son trudge down the steps and gave him the usual morning greeting. “Finally decided to wake up and join the living, did you?”

  Jalen, who had Bones slung under his arm in a football hold, lowered him to the floor, waited for him to hop out of the way and yawned as he dropped onto the sofa next to Thomas. Reaching for the remote, he flipped the TV on and leaned up against his father’s side, snuggling as though they’d always spent Saturday mornings together like this.

  “Can you put some chocolate chips in my pancakes, Mom? And I want some bananas in them, too, okay? I think that’s a good combo. But no pecans. I hate pecans.”

  Typical.

  “Well, good morning to you, too, Sunshine.” Lia flipped a pancake on the electric griddle and exchanged a nervous glance with Thomas. Showtime. They’d concocted a story to explain Thomas’s presence, and it could fly. As long as Jalen didn’t notice how loose and relaxed Thomas was this morning or the way she couldn’t help smiling at inanimate objects, like the spatula and the eggs in their carton or how she and Thomas couldn’t stop staring at each other and then looking away, as though the intensity of the connection was now too much for them to handle, especially when they couldn’t touch each other.

  Yeah. This plan was doomed.

  “Ah, Jalen,” Thomas began, and Lia could hear the studied nonchalance and, under that, the nervousness in his voice, “you seem to have noticed that I’m here this morning.”

  “Uh-huh.” Jalen stared at the screen and punched another button on the remote.

  “Well,” Thomas continued, “in case you’re interested, you mother and I were up so late last night, talking and, ah, watching movies together and stuff, that she just invited me to sleep here on the couch.” He waved at the pillow and blanket crumpled to his right. After staying in bed until the last possible second, he’d jumped in the shower with her and they’d washed each other’s backs. Then they’d grabbed the pillow and blanket from the linen closet and dashed down here to look innocent, getting settled minutes before Jalen appeared. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t care.” Jalen punched another button on the remote and grinned with sudden delight. “The Simpsons. Awesome.”

  Thomas waited, staring down at Jalen. Lia nervously flipped another pancake.

  They waited some more.

  Nothing happened. Jalen was utterly absorbed in his show, which was one of the most beautiful things about mindless programming these days. So…was that it? No interrogation? No awkward questions?

  She and Thomas exchanged a quick glance of cautious relief, and she suppressed another simpering smile with difficulty.

  “Who wants a glass of orange—” she called.

  “But you really should sleep in the bed with mom now that you’re her boyfriend and all,” Jalen said, still staring at the TV and therefore oblivious to the dropping jaws of his parents. “That’s how you’re supposed to do it.”

  Lia strode through the door and
into the deserted reception area of Thomas’s office, trying not to look as conspicuous as she felt, which was hard. She had it bad for the sexy doctor. Really bad. That stupid smile would not go away, even at the most inappropriate times, like when her annoying boss, Dr. Dudley, was giving her his latest round of instructions and/or suggestions for the hospital’s security upgrade. The mere thought of Thomas made her cheeks flush white-hot and her breath come short. In the few short weeks since they’d become lovers, he’d turned her into Pavlov’s dog. What was next? Drooling every time he smiled? At the rate things were going, it could happen.

  Time had shifted on her, transforming itself into the too-short increments when she was with Thomas and the long and painful interludes when they had to go their separate ways for work and other responsibilities. Today had dragged by like an ice age, the hours slowing down to keep her from tonight’s dinner alone with him. She’d barely made it to the end of the day, and now that it was six, she’d hurried over to his office building to see him again. To touch him. To breathe at last.

  There he was. Standing behind the receptionist’s desk with Mrs. Brennan, wearing his scrubs with the stethoscope slung around his neck, both of them staring at something on the computer screen while Mrs. Brennan, who was seated, typed. At the interruption, they both looked up. Seeing Lia, Thomas stilled, and their gazes locked. The cheery greeting she’d planned to say—Oh, hello, I was just in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d drop in—died a quick death.

  She waited, worried she’d caught them in the middle of something important and, worse, afraid that he’d realize—if not right now, then soon—how much he meant to her.

  A slow smile of quiet delight crept across his face. “Hi.”

  Dimpling, she tried to play it cool. Well, a little cool, anyway. “Hi.”

  “Hello-ooo.” Mrs. Brennan divided her attention between them, twisting to look over her shoulder at Thomas and then facing Lia again with a wry smile. She raised a hand and waggled her fingers. “I do hate to interrupt a nice session of young people simpering at each other and all, but I’m here too, lovely. Perhaps you’d like to greet me?”

  Snapping her gaze away from Thomas, Lia laughed. “Hello, Mrs. Brennan. How are you? Did Thomas work you too hard today?”

  Mrs. Brennan heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Always, dear. Always.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope he’s letting you go soon. Or does he chain you to your desk at night?”

  Thomas snorted. “Like I could.”

  Mrs. Brennan shot him a severe glance. “You will pipe down, or I’ll be demanding another raise.”

  Another snort. “You already make damn near more than I do,” Thomas said. “What do you want? A pint of my blood?”

  “Oh, no, not a pint.” Mrs. Brennan looked back to the computer screen, typing again. “A cup will do. Now, shall we finish this report, so I can go home and you can kiss your girl? I can see you’re dying to.”

  “You got that right,” Thomas murmured, his gaze heating up and reverting back to Lia, who was, naturally, flushing again. “Why don’t you wait in my office for me? I’ll be right there.”

  “Great,” Lia said.

  She headed down the hall and into Thomas’s office, where she plopped in one of the chairs facing his desk. Then, feeling too edgy to sit still, she got up and paced, studying his things, touching them, as though the connection with his possessions would keep him close while they were apart. University degree, med school degree and medical license, all nicely matted, framed and hanging on the far wall. His white lab coat hanging on the hook behind his door, just waiting for her to press her face into it, smelling faintly of his fresh musk. His black gym bag, tossed on the floor in the corner.

  After a couple of laps of the office, she perched on the edge of his desk to wait, aware of things she hadn’t bothered to notice in years, like the sweet ache of her nipples against the cups of her bra, the way her skirt rode up her legs as she sat, and the rub of her bare inner thighs against each other.

  It turned out that she was, after all, still a sexual being.

  Who knew?

  The knob turned. The door swung open, and Thomas appeared with a deliciously disquieting light in his eyes that caused need to coil, tight and hot, in the pit of her belly.

  “Hi,” he said again, shutting the door behind him.

  “Hi.”

  His focus went straight to the curve of her breasts where her ruffled blouse gave way, and then shifted lower, to her legs and painted toes in her sandals. The air grew thick, making it almost impossible for her to breathe.

  He did not come closer, hovering instead near the door. “I missed you.”

  The old Lia, the cautious one who didn’t take risks and kept her feelings and desires in perpetual lockdown behind a razor-wire fence, would have smiled coolly and said, oh, yeah? But the new, more courageous Lia, the one that Thomas was slowly unearthing, held his gaze and let him see the heat in her own.

  “I missed you, too.”

  That pleased him; it was all right there in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners even if he didn’t quite smile. “I’ve been looking forward to dinner all day.”

  “So have I.”

  “I have to cancel.” His non-smile faded, leaving clear disappointment in his expression. “I was just getting ready to call you.”

  “Oh,” she said, pleased that she could still talk when it felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to her innards. “What’s up?”

  “I need to scrub in in about half an hour. Dr. Alexander’s sick mother has taken a turn for the worse, so he asked me to cover for him tonight. We’ve got a nasty gall bladder that needs to be yanked.”

  “Oh. Okay. I understand.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes.”

  This was a lie. She did not understand. Sure, Thomas’s colleagues and patients needed him, but what about Lia’s needs? Hadn’t she waited patiently all day? Hadn’t she stockpiled all the little things she wanted to tell him over dinner, like how well the security upgrade was going and how Jalen had been tapped for the gifted program at school? Hadn’t she roped off her need to feel his hands on her body, telling herself that she only needed to make it to tonight?

  How the hell was she supposed to make it through the night without him?

  “I was hoping,” Thomas murmured, low, “that you’d be as disappointed as I am.”

  “Really?” Goose bumps tiptoed over her skin, tracking up her arms and into her scalp, radiating outward in a thrilling shiver. Her voice, meanwhile, had turned husky. “Feeling needy, Doctor?”

  “Yeah.” He stared at her, still too far away across the room. “That’s the thing about you. You make me needy.”

  That feeling of agitation grew. She rested her hands on the edge of the desk and shifted as she crossed her legs, making her skirt ride higher across her thighs.

  Thomas tracked the movement, swallowing with a rough bob of his Adam’s apple.

  “That’s funny,” she told him. “I’ve been feeling a little…needy myself.

  “Oh?”

  “I hope I’m not coming down with something.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What should I do about that?” she wondered softly.

  “Maybe I should check you out.” Thomas came closer, his expression darkening with the passion she now knew so well. “I am a doctor.”

  “Well…if you think it’s for the best.”

  “Oh, I do.”

  Reaching for the stethoscope, he hooked the tips into his ears and hovered over her, staring down at her cleavage. “I’ll need you to unbutton your blouse for me.”

  “Really?”

  “It’s for your own good.”

  She undid one button…two buttons…three, pulling the halves of her shirt apart just enough to reveal the tops of her heaving breasts in their white lace bra. His breath turned labored and harsh as he put one hand on her back and raised the chestpiece with the other. Taking care to b
rush the backs of his fingers down her neck as he went, he slid the chestpiece into the valley between her breasts and listened.

  “Breathe in.”

  She did, and the tender friction between her bra and the tips of her swollen nipples was exquisite. “Breathe out.”

  Another breath, more slow torture for her, especially when he gently ran his fingers over her curves as he withdrew his hand.

  Standing right there, less than a whisper away, he caged her by putting his hands on either side of her hips and looked grim.

  “What is it, Doctor?”

  “I’m afraid it’s serious,” he told her.

  “Oh, no.”

  That glittering gaze flicked up to hers and held, melting her from the inside out. “There is one treatment. It’s unorthodox, but I recommend it.”

  “I’ll do anything,” she said breathlessly. “Anything.”

  “Good decision.” With one careful hand, he unhooked her knee from where it crossed the other one, edged his way between her legs and stroked his hands under her skirt and up the outsides of her thighs, to the top edges of her panties. “I’ll need these.”

  Mesmerized by his touch, his quiet intensity, Lia rocked her hips from side to side, letting him pull her panties down, but not all the way off. Then, never breaking eye contact, he tugged her hand and pulled her along as he sank into his big leather chair and tipped it back. She straddled him, resting her knees on the padding and poising as he untied the laces of his pants and slid them and his boxers down enough to reveal an erection that was ruddy and thick.

  She shuddered. “Are you sure we should do this, Doctor?”

  He regarded her solemnly, lids half lowered. “It’s the only way.”

  With that, she eased down, inch by slow inch, stifling her gasps as best she could. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered whether Mrs. Brennan was still out there somewhere, and if she even cared. Meanwhile Thomas hissed with approval.

  When, finally, they were fitted together, both panting, eyes glazed, and he had his hands up under her skirt, anchoring her by the ass, she began to ride. Up and down, around and around, in and out, any way she could manage it, she gave herself over to the abandoned pleasure of this moment…of needing Thomas inside her…of needing Thomas.