A Baby on Her Christmas List (10 page)

One day they’d look back on this and laugh. If they were still speaking to each other. ‘So it’s nature that’s making you look at me like that?’

‘Like what?’

‘Sex.’

His pupils flared at the word. ‘It’ll wear off.’

‘I sincerely hope not.’ She finished the last bit of dessert in one big, almost but not quite satisfying mouthful. She had a feeling there was only one thing that could satisfy her right now, and it wasn’t cheesecake. ‘We should give in to our natural urges sometimes, it’s bad for us to repress them all the time, apparently.’

‘It’s even worse to break something that’s pretty solid.’

Their friendship. But that was true and lasting and proven. ‘Why would it break? It doesn’t have to break, not if we don’t want it to. We can do whatever we want. It’s our choice.’ She couldn’t resist stretching her fingers across the table towards his. For a few seconds just their fingertips touched. Then, without looking at her, he slid his fingers across hers, intertwined them, stroked his hand across hers. His skin was rough but his touch was soft. His heat spread through her, up her arms, to her back, down to her belly.

After a moment of such an excruciatingly sexy caress he turned her palm over and lifted it to his mouth. His kiss was hot. He licked a wet trail to her forefinger. She snatched her hand away before a moan erupted from her throat. Even so, her voice was filled with need. ‘We should be getting home.’

‘We? Is that an invitation?’ His face cautious, and turned on at the same time, he scraped his chair back to go.

Finding him her sexiest smile, she whispered back, ‘Honestly, Macadoodle-doo, since when have you ever needed an invitation to my house?’

‘I think maybe this time I do.’

* * *

She hadn’t answered him in words, but she’d taken his hand and led him out of the café like a woman on a mission. Thank God she lived only a short drive away because he couldn’t have waited many moments longer. Liam didn’t know when he’d ever been so burnt up about a woman.

They bypassed the living area and made it to her bedroom without words, without kissing. He went in first, held open the door and she walked straight in and turned to face him, a question on her face. A dare. A promise. There was space between them. It would only need one step.

Just one.

He faltered. For a few moments neither moved as they stared at each other. This was happening. Really happening. The step from friends to...to whatever this was.
Lovers
might have been doubtful, but the trajectory from restaurant to street to bed was unstoppable. The air in the room seemed to still. One second. Two. With every lingering moment heat spread through his body like a raging fire, threatening to engulf him. If he touched her now there would be no going back.

This could have been a time to leave. He almost took a sideways step, his hand lingering on the doorhandle, but faltered again.

As she watched him a slow sexy smile appeared on Georgie’s lips, and if he’d had any flicker of doubt that she didn’t want this it fled right then. And that was when, he supposed, he should have drawn that line, the one they shouldn’t have stepped over. Or where they should have agreed what this meant. But he was too consumed by her, by this need to utter a word.

In the end he didn’t know who made the first move but suddenly she was in front of him, or he was in front of her and his mouth was hard against hers. This time there was no hesitation, no coy shaking. This was pure need and desire. She tasted of chocolate and vanilla and every flavour in between. Her mouth was wet and hungry and it fired a deeper, hotter want within him. Jaws clashed, tongues danced, teeth grazed. There was nothing sophisticated about the kiss, no gentle sucking or tender caress. It was messy. Dirty. Hungry.

His lips were on her throat as he dragged her T-shirt up around her neck, ripping it as it snagged on its journey to the floor. Finding what they wanted his hands cupped her beautiful breasts over her bra, then under her bra to the accompaniment of a deep guttural moan. She pressed against him, writhing against his thigh. ‘Liam, oh, my God, I want you now.’

‘I want you.’ For a brief moment he acknowledged that this could be the singularly most stupid thing he’d ever done. Then that thought was gone, erased with more of her kisses and the press of her fingertips against the top of his jeans. He sucked in air as she played with his zip. And, no, he did not want to hesitate for a second—but his hand covered hers. ‘You first.’

Her bra hit the floor and then her shorts, and he was walking her to her bed and laying her down on the flowery duvet he’d seen a hundred times before but never in this light, never at a moment like this. Everything was familiar and yet unfamiliar, like her. His mouth found her dark hard nipple and sucked it in. She was divine, so sexy, her nipples so responsive.
She
was so responsive as she writhed against him, nails digging into his back until he groaned.

As his mouth started its journey south, kissing carefully over the undulation of her belly, her hand stopped his and her voice was, for the first time, wary. ‘Is this really stupid?’

‘Without a doubt.’

‘Yeah, I thought so. Dumb and then some.’ Her mouth was swollen and red. He knew it had been a long time since Georgie had been kissed, and kissed like that—because he had been the last one to do it. God only knew when she’d last had sex but unless he was mistaken he could count the time in years, not months. So this was important. She’d chosen him.

He relieved her of her panties, hands skimming a belly that was plump and soft. He followed a trail of dark hair down her midline, watching her squirm as he parted her thighs and found her centre. He slipped a finger in, two, and felt her contract. She moaned, ‘Oh, yes.’

‘Crazy?’

‘Madness.’ She arched against him. ‘But that feels so good.’

He kissed a slick trail to a nipple and smiled against it as she bucked in pleasure against his hand. Then he found her mouth again, her tongue tangling with his as she unzipped his jeans and took him in her hand. His gut contracted. He was so hard, so hot for her, and, damn, if he didn’t have her soon he was going to explode.

She rubbed his erection against her sweet spot and he could feel the wet heat of her. Then she pushed him against the mattress and straddled him. ‘I want you inside me, Liam. Now. Please don’t do the whole slow build-up thing. That’s been happening for days, months if we’re honest. I just need to feel you inside me. Otherwise I’m going to just about die.’

‘Don’t do that. No. We can’t have that.’ And without any further encouragement he slid deep into her. She was so ready for him, he could feel her orgasm building already, her walls contracting around him as she pulsed with him. She met his rhythm, found his mouth again and he was lost in sensation after sensation of her mouth, her centre, her weight on his thighs. Her scent around him, her heat around him. Deeper. Harder.

He wanted to slow down time, to hold onto this moment but the luscious heat of her, her sexy, knowing smile made him sink deep into her. ‘Oh, my God, Georgie, you’re going to make me lose it.’

He fisted her hair and dragged her face to him, kissing her long and hard until he was fighting for breath, until the pace increased, faster and faster. Her eyes closed as he felt her contract around him, her body shaking with the strength of her orgasm.
‘Liam. Liam.’

Never had his name sounded so sweet, so wanted, so precious. He was lost in her, in her voice, in her heat, grinding against her, hard and fast and deep, until he felt his own climax rising and then crashing on a wave of chaos and kisses.

* * *

For a few seconds she was quiet against him, Liam could feel her heart beating a frantic pulse against his chest. Her hair was over his face. She was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, fists still clinging to his shoulders, pinning him against the sheets. He was already hard again, thinking about a few moments’ repose, then maybe a shower—preferably with her in it. It was startling, surprising and felt surreal to be here, with her, doing this.

So he wasn’t prepared for her words as she bolted upright and her hand went to her belly. ‘Oh, God, Liam. Oh, my God.’

The baby.
For those fleeting moments he’d forgotten, blown away by the sultriness of her ripe body, of being inside her, of losing himself completely in the best sex of his life. He’d wanted Georgie the woman. Not Georgie the mother. Although she came as a package deal, he knew that.

No, he hadn’t forgotten but blocked out that thought.

And then things got very murky in his head. ‘What is it? Are you okay? What’s wrong?’

‘No, I’m not okay.’ Twisting away from him, she climbed off his thighs, wrapped the top sheet across her front and curled onto the bed in a protective foetal position, her hands in front of her face. ‘Oh, God, best-friend sex. Kill me now.’

‘Why the hell would I want to do that?’ The laugh erupting from his throat was part relief, part concern because she was right; in fact, they’d both been right. This was the most half-cocked stupid thing they’d ever done.

‘I can’t believe we’ve just done that when I look like this.’ Her cheeks were red and hot. ‘I’ve never cared how I looked to you before. You’ve seen me in all states of soberness and drunken debauchery, when I was sick, when I was glammed up to the nines. You’ve seen me lose my bikini completely in an ill-timed dive into the pool, even caught sight of me in my scaggy weekday bra and pants, and none of it mattered. Ever. But now? Now I’m so embarrassed.’

He stroked fingers down her spine, tenderness for her goofy display of embarrassment meshing with something else in his heart. This was not meant to happen. He was supposed to be creating a safe place for his child, proving he could be a good father. Making sound choices. It was okay to give in to a little sexual play with someone who had no strings attached—but they had a ten-year history and an uncertain and very shaky-looking future that involved another life. They shouldn’t be playing at all. He was getting in too deep, getting himself into a situation he didn’t know how to get out of. ‘And maybe you’re just a little bit crazy? Why do you think I care how you look?’

‘Because it’s suddenly important. Everything is. I didn’t think it would be, but it matters.’

‘I don’t believe this.’ Pulling her hands away from her face, he made sure she was looking right at him. Because, yes, this mattered. She mattered. Whatever else happened now—and already a thousand doubts were stampeding into his head—she had to hear what he was saying. Because she still needed to hear the truth, regardless of what he thought or felt about it. ‘Is it enough for me to say that you’re beautiful?’

‘No. Not really. I’m six months pregnant, for goodness’ sake. I’m fat. I’m getting stretch marks. My boobs are huge.’

‘Really? I hadn’t noticed.’ He pretended to take a sneaky peek. And then wished that he hadn’t. He could make light of this, but the honest fact was she was beautiful. So beautiful it made his heart ache and he wanted to kiss her again, to make her scream with pleasure. To make her realise just how much she was wanted.

‘Well, you’ve been staring at them for long enough.’

‘That’s because you are amazing. Beautiful. Fertile. Vibrant.’ He took her hand, gently kissed her knuckles and brought her fist to his cheek. ‘And I don’t care how you look, Georgie. Because, honestly, the wrapping’s not what I was making love to.’

Honestly?
Honestly?
His heart banged fiercely as if protesting. What the hell were they doing? She was his friend and by doing this he’d let her down. Period. He was supposed to be the strong one, dammit.

‘You know, we should really have stopped before we started.’ Dragging her hand from his grip, she sat up. ‘If that makes sense.’

‘Things stopped making sense a while ago.’

‘Yes, you can say that again.’ She let out a long sigh but snuggled against him, her hair tickling his nose, baby-soft skin touching his, then closed her eyes. ‘That was good, though. Damned good, Macadoodle-doo.’

He glanced towards the bedside table and saw a baby name book, a pregnancy book. In the corner of the room there was a bottle steriliser still in its wrapper next to a bundle of baby clothes. On the floor to his left was a magazine open at a page about safety in online dating. She’d gone through the questionnaire and circled a few As, some Cs, a smattering of Bs. Was she thinking about dating again? Before all this she’d have filled in the questionnaire with him and they’d have been in fits of laughter at the results. But this one she’d done on her own. In private.

Despite the post-coital warm fuzzies he realised with a jolt that he might not be a real and integral part of her new life. She was thinking about a future without him in it. That was what he’d wanted, right? That was why he’d signed the contract in the first place. So she could have her dream life—a partner would be the icing on the cake for her. A husband, two kids and a dog. The family she’d missed out on, growing up in that children’s home she’d hated. Traceable DNA.

A husband who didn’t keep running away. She deserved that. She deserved the very best.

And even though he knew all the reasons he shouldn’t be here, he still kept batting them away, trying to find good enough reasons to stay. But he didn’t have many, apart from selfish ones that meant he got the best sex with an amazing woman and then broke both their hearts.

He edged his arm out from under her neck, lay for a few minutes and watched her. She looked so relaxed, so peaceful, so hot that he couldn’t bear to think of her with another man. But did that mean he had to commit? What if it fell apart? That would be all kinds of messy. A family didn’t need that. He didn’t need that, and she certainly didn’t. From his own bitter experience he knew damned well what damage a broken family could do to a child.

Better to stay friends for ever than fall apart as lovers.

Snaking away from her, he sat on the edge of the bed and looked around for his jeans. ‘I guess I’d better get off home.’

‘Oh, no. Don’t you dare move, matey.’ Her hands were on his shoulders, gripping them with more force than when he’d taken her over the edge, forcing him to sit back down. She picked up one of the books he’d seen and flicked through it, shoving it under his nose. ‘So, I was thinking Desdemona for a girl. Albert for a boy? What do you think?’