The Nurse's Newborn Gift (5 page)

“Nooooo,” Krissy whined loudly. “I like this position.”

The teacher smiled at Spencer. “Looks like someone has the magic touch.”

Why thank you, thank you very much
.

Krissy turned onto her back. “Don't look so proud of yourself.” She whacked him in the face with the pillow that'd been between her knees. “It's only because I haven't...been touched...in a long time.”

The teacher called out, “Next position I want my partners to take a seat on the floor, backs straight, legs opened, knees bent.”

Shoot, just when things were starting to get interesting.

The teacher continued, “Now I want my mamas to sit between their partner's legs, back to their chests, and rest your head on their shoulder.”

Krissy maneuvered into position.

“Partners,” the teacher said. “Slide your arms under and around,” she demonstrated on another couple, “then clasp your fingers together on the top of her belly.”

Spencer did as instructed.

Krissy felt so good and smelled so good. Her soft, fragrant hair tickled his cheek. Her body heated his wherever they touched, which felt like everywhere. How many times had his teenage self dreamed of holding her this close?

She wiggled her bottom then stiffened.

Krissy may have been clueless about Jarrod's true feelings for her, but she didn't miss the key indicator of how Spencer was feeling about her at that particular moment.

She wiggled her bottom against his arousal again then turned her head close to his ear and whispered, “Really, Spencer? I'm big as a manatee and we're at Lamaze class of all places.”

She wasn't big as a manatee. She was full and lush and even sexier than she'd been in high school. “Sorry,” he said. Thinking fast he added, “It's only because I haven't...been touched...in a long time.”

Krissy pinched his thigh.

He tried to muffle his laugh in the side of her neck.

Then she wiggled against him again.

The minx probably planned to torture him for the rest of the class. Well, no way he'd allow that. Determined to put a stop to it, Spencer leaned in close, moved his mouth to her ear and quietly warned, “Don't start something you can't finish.”

Krissy stiffened.

Then she pulled his head down and whispered back, “Oh, I can finish, Spencer, in so many different ways. FYI, those rumors back in high school were true.” She licked his ear. “I give an amazing blow job.”

Lord help him.

A rookie mistake. He should have known Krissy would take his words as a challenge and use her confident sexuality to say something outrageous that would give her the upper hand.

It'd worked, too. The image of a naked Krissy, on her knees at his feet, looking up at him as she took his erection into her hot, wet mouth filled his mind. At the anticipated feel of her sucking him deep into the back of her throat, over and over, he grew bigger, and harder, and more aroused.

She slid her backside in even closer, readjusting her position again, rubbing from side to side against him until all Spencer could think about was lifting her onto his lap, lowering her leggings and his zipper, and entering her from behind, thrusting up into her, again and again until...

This had to stop.

Spencer wasn't a sexually inexperienced teenager anymore. He was a man who liked to take charge and be in control.

So he called her bluff, leaning down to whisper, “Maybe I didn't get much action back in high school, but I've made up for it in adulthood.” Not really, but what he lacked in quantity he'd made up for in quality. “You're not the only one with amazing talent. In fact, if you can keep quiet, I bet I can get you off in minutes, right here, right now, in this room full of people, without anyone knowing.”

There. Take that! And just to give his words some added oomph, he ran his tongue around the rim of her ear eliciting a small but most rewarding tremble from her.

Krissy let out a breath and melted into him.

“What do you say?” He took things one step further, moving one of the pillows partially into her lap to hide what he was about to do from those around them. Then he slid his hand up her inner thigh, slowly, waiting for her to stop him, knowing she would.

“Krissy and Spencer,” the instructor called out in an unpleasant, disciplinary voice, her eyes focused in on the pillow between Krissy's legs as if she could tell what he was doing underneath it.

Busted!

“Sorry,” Spencer said. “Krissy had an itch she couldn't reach.”

Based on her expression, the instructor wasn't buying it.

“I'm sorry, too,” Krissy said, repositioning herself, again, in a move that made it perfectly clear to Spencer that she wasn't sorry at all. “Spencer had a question about your diagram. I was trying to answer it as best I could.”

The instructor turned back to her oversize poster of the female genitalia. “Would you like to share your question with the class?” she asked Spencer.

“No.” Spencer shook his head, feeling his face heat.

A few of the men in the room laughed.

“Okay, then,” the teacher said. “As I was saying...”

With the attention no longer on them, Krissy whispered, “Just like high school, you're always getting me into trouble.”

It was all Spencer could do not to laugh out loud. Invoking quite a bit of self-control to keep his indignation from showing, he whispered, “
Me
getting
you
into trouble? I don't think so! Not then and not now. You and your moaning.” He moved in close to her ear to mimic, “‘That feels soooooo good.'”

She gave him a tiny elbow to the ribs. “Well I'm sorry for moaning. I promise to be quiet from now on.”

He didn't want her sorry and he didn't want her quiet. He wanted her as aroused and off-kilter as he was feeling. So he pressed his mouth to her ear and told her, “Never apologize for moaning when I make you feel good. I like making women moan in pleasure, means I have them right where I want them.”

Krissy pinched his thigh. A lot harder that time.

Ouch! He resisted the urge to rub it.

“Pay attention,” she snapped. “You're the reason we're here.”

Right. Lamaze class. Birth coach. Huge responsibility.

Spencer needed every bit of willpower, determination and concentration in his possession to ignore the sensual woman between his legs and turn his attention back to Lamaze class. But he did it. Thank goodness the class ended twenty-five minutes later.

CHAPTER FIVE

K
RISSY
CAME
AWAKE
to someone knocking on the door to her apartment, but was too exhausted to get up from the couch to answer it. When the knocking stopped, she closed her eyes and started to sink back into sleep.

Until her cell phone rang.

She picked it up from the coffee table. Seeing Spencer's name and number on the screen she accepted the call. “Sorry. I completely forgot you were planning to stop by. Did you win?” His soccer team had played a Saturday afternoon game.

“Yeah. Three to one. Where are you?” he asked. “Your car's parked in your spot but you're not answering your door.”

“Because I'm sleeping.” She stretched. “At least I was sleeping until
someone
started knocking on my door.”

“Open up,” he said. “I have a surprise for you.”

She wanted to, really she did. Even though he'd made it a point to call her every night around eight o'clock—a call she'd started to look forward to—due to their busy schedules, she hadn't seen him in almost a week, since Sunday's Lamaze class. But as much as she'd like to show off her handiwork in putting together J.J.'s crib all by herself, she just couldn't muster the energy to walk to the door. “Come back later.”

“It's ice cream,” he sing-songed.

Krissy's stomach growled. “What kind of ice cream?” No way she'd put forth the monumental effort to heft her massive body off of the couch for anything less than a hot fudge sundae or banana split.

“A hot fudge sundae, just like I promised.”

After all the sexual back and forth during Lamaze class on Saturday, Spencer had gone quiet, making things feel weird between them. So Krissy had claimed she needed a nap and asked for a rain check on the ice cream, eager to put a little distance between them. On Sunday, Spencer didn't have time for ice cream because he had to head straight to work—after dropping her back home—for some late treatments.

Krissy's mouth started to water. “Give me a sec.” She rolled onto her side and hauled herself into a sitting position, her arms and upper body feeling almost too heavy to lift.
Hot fudge sundae
. She set her hands on her knees, leaned forward and pushed up.

When she opened the door Spencer said, “You look exhausted.”

“I
am
exhausted.” Down to her bones. Too exhausted to remain upright, so Krissy turned around and headed back to the couch. “Which is why I was sleeping.” She sat then lied down on her side and closed her eyes again. “Put the ice cream in the freezer, will you? I'll eat it later. Thank you.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

She appreciated the concern in his voice. “Just a very busy week catching up with me.” Tippy, Mom's caregiver over at Kira's house, hadn't been feeling well so Krissy had been helping out over there in the evenings after work so Kira could spend some alone time with Derrick before she went down to spend the night. “Today I worked until three in the afternoon then I came home did some laundry, cleaned the bathroom and got involved in putting J.J.'s crib together.” What a nightmare that had been.

She heard Spencer open her freezer. “I told you I'd put the crib together.”

“And
I
told
you
I could do it myself.”

“You know it's okay to let people help you.”

“I know.” But since the age of fourteen, since Mom's brain injury, Krissy had gotten used to doing things for herself. With her father no longer a part of their family, an eighteen-year-old Kira had been stretched thin, going to college while managing the expenses, the condo, and Mom's care. Krissy tried hard not to be an additional burden, to anyone, even though Kira might tell a different tale.

She heard Spencer walk into the living room. Something rattled. “Looks nice. But what's with that pile of screws and springs on the floor?”

Krissy yawned. “They were left over after I finished.”

Spencer let out a breath.

Krissy didn't have the energy to read into it and start a fight.

“Have you eaten dinner?” he asked.

“I will when I wake up.” Krissy yawned again, thankful Spencer had stopped talking, thankful for the quiet, thankful to be able to go back...to...sleep...

Sometime later Krissy opened her eyes to darkness and the smell of—she inhaled to be sure—Chinese stir-fry chicken. Hunger made her empty stomach ache. She turned to see the light on in her kitchen and someone moving around in there. “Spencer?” Who else could it be?

“Hey,” he said, coming to stand in the doorway. “You're awake. I thought I was going to have to eat without you.”

“What time is it?” Krissy sat up.

“Almost eight-thirty.” Spencer walked into the living room and held out his hand.

Krissy latched on to it and he pulled her up. “Thank you.”

He bowed at the waist then motioned to the kitchen. “Dinner is served.”

As much as she wanted to eat, “Bathroom first.” She hurried down the hall. One glance in the mirror and, “My God!” A wild woman looked back at her. Hair matted on one side, sticking out in all directions on the other. Eye makeup smudged. And drool, she wiped her mouth. Thank goodness the living room had been dark.

How she looked shouldn't matter. It was only Spencer, after all. But for some reason it did matter. He always managed to look good and she wanted to look good too. So after she emptied her overfull bladder, she took a few minutes to freshen up.

In the kitchen Spencer greeted her with a smile. “Feel better?”

She smiled back, feeling uncharacteristically shy. “Yes. Much.” He'd been busy while she was sleeping. “Wow. You went all out.” The table neatly set, all the pots washed and in the drain board, a yummy looking chicken stir fry with vegetables beautifully plated over brown rice and ready to be eaten. “I know for sure I didn't have broccoli or red peppers,” she pointed out.

He pulled out a chair. “You had chicken breast, carrots and soy sauce. I combined that with some stuff I had and voilà!” He motioned to the serving dish. “A healthy dinner for two and two-thirds.”

She smiled again at him referring to J.J. as two-thirds.

“We make a good team,” he added as he sat beside her.

They'd made a good team at Lamaze class, too. “I'm impressed.” She inhaled deeply. “I hope it tastes as good as it looks.”

“It does.” He served them both.

So confident. Wait a minute. “Let me guess. Cooking classes?”

He wouldn't look at her. “It was something to do.”

“Good place to pick up women?” she teased.

“Good place to learn to make healthy food taste good,” he countered. “Now eat.” He pointed to her plate with his fork. “Before it gets cold.”

Typical Spencer. Always learning, always taking classes or workshops to be the best he could be. As she enjoyed her first delicious mouthful, Krissy was glad he hadn't changed in that regard. “It's fantastic. You can cook for me anytime.”

“I like your new table and chairs.”

Of course he did, since he's the one who'd made her get them, even though she'd insisted she didn't need them because she mostly ate on the couch in front of the television...that is, when she ate at home, which she'd likely be doing much more of once she had little J.J.

“Good thing you have them so we can have this nice dinner together,” he said. “And they fit perfectly in your kitchen.”

Just like he'd said they would.

She looked up at him. “You were right, okay? There, I said it. Happy now?”

He smiled his handsome smile and Krissy's insides warmed. “As a matter of fact, yes I am.”

“...you're not the only one with amazing talent...I bet I can get you off in minutes, right here, right now, in this room full of people, without anyone knowing.”

Starting the ninth month of her pregnancy, with another man's baby, and she couldn't get Spencer's words out of her head, couldn't move past the way his touch had made her feel...so alive...so needy. A tingle of intrigue buzzed around her insides, settling between her legs.

“Hey.” He ducked his head to catch her line of sight. “You okay?”

Nope. Not at all. “Yup.” She forced a smile and stuffed more food into her mouth so she wouldn't be expected to say anything else. While she chewed she looked at Spencer, so neatly put together in a very virile package. Then she looked around her now neat kitchen. In so many ways he reminded her of Kira, organized, prompt, smart, and loyal, a know-it-all who usually turned out to be right. It irked her a bit. But he'd been so nice over the past two weeks, she could overlook it...as long as she didn't spend too much time thinking about it. So she changed the subject to something neutral. “How was work today?”

“Busy.” He took a sip of water. “I've got to go in tomorrow morning. Not too early, but for a few hours.”

He'd told her that during the soccer season, more often than not, he went into work seven days a week. “How's Alfonso doing?” Maybe she'd only met the new star player of NYC United once, when she'd helped with his physical exam, but she'd seen him almost naked, which put them on first name basis, as far as she was concerned. “I saw him go in for that header at the same time as the player from the other team.” She cringed. “It looked bad.” He'd gone down hard and had needed to be helped off the field.

“I didn't know you were a soccer fan.”

She wasn't. At least she hadn't been prior to learning of Spencer's job with NYC United. Now, whenever she could, she watched the games, hoping for a glimpse of Spencer on the sidelines, or better yet, seeing him in action on the field. Not that she'd tell
him
that. “I'm a fan of the Italian hottie, Alfonso Gianelli.”

“You and hundreds of other women.” Spencer sounded peeved. “He's a player, and I'm not talking about his skills with a soccer ball.” He looked up from his plate. “Stay away from him.”

“As if he'd have any interest in me now.” Thirty pounds heavier than normal, which even before her pregnancy tended to run toward full-figured. But she appreciated the hint of something...concern, maybe jealousy in his voice.

Spencer's eyes met hers. “Knock it off. You're beautiful and sexy and you know it.”

“I'm fat,” came out of her mouth before she even had a chance to process what Spencer had said.

“You're pregnant. There's a difference.”

Whoa. “You think I'm beautiful and sexy?” She stood to remind him what she looked like, arching her back to make her oversize belly protrude even more than usual. “Almost nine months pregnant.” She tilted her head as she stared down at him. “Have you been drinking? I mean I know I don't have any booze down here, but did you toss back a few beers up at your place when you went to raid your fridge?”

His expression totally serious, Spencer said, “No, I haven't been drinking. And yes, even at almost nine months pregnant. Now stop looking for compliments and finish eating. I'm ready for my ice cream.”

Oh, no. She liked this topic of conversation and wanted to spend a little more time on it. “Hmmm.” She tapped her chin. “So it was me, in all my pregnant glory, who turned you on at Lamaze class?” How flattering. “You hadn't been thinking of someone else? That impressive hard-on wasn't only because you hadn't had full body contact with a woman in a while?” A topic worthy of further discussion at a later time. “It wasn't being in a room with all those hormonal pregnant women that got you going? Tell me the truth. Do you have some kind of pregnancy fetish? Is that why you were so determined to get me to go to that class?” Krissy teased.

Fork halfway up to his mouth, Spencer froze. Then his heated gaze locked on hers. “You found my...hard-on, as you so eloquently put it, impressive?”

Out of everything she'd just said, he'd chosen that one thing to focus in on. Such a guy. “
Now
who's looking for compliments?” God Krissy had missed this, had missed Spencer and this crazy banter between them.

Oh, so casually he removed the napkin from his lap and blotted his mouth. “As a matter of fact I
was
thinking of another woman.”

Way to ruin her fun.

“Or at least another time.” He stood, cleared his dishes and placed them in the sink. “You were a teenage boy's wet dream.” He turned to face her, leaning his hip against the counter. “The way you teased and flirted. Your body.” He shook his head. “Seeing you again...it's sent me back in time. I'm sorry. It won't happen again.”

What? No need to apologize. Wait a minute. “A teenage boy's wet dream?
Your
wet dream?” She couldn't believe it. “Then why...?” When she'd offered herself to him... “Why...?” Had he been so mean, so...hurtful?

“It's a long story,” he said, turning around, giving her his back.

“Tell me. I've got time.”

He ran the water and soaped up the sponge. “No.”

She recognized the finality of that tone, knew there'd be nothing she could do to get him to talk more on that subject. At least not right now. Krissy could be patient, could wait for a better time to bring it up. She stood and walked her dishes over to the sink. “Don't want to talk about that? How about we talk about you not being touched in a while.” Standing next to him, her back to the counter, she looked up. “You know, like exactly how long ‘a while' has been and why?”

“Or,” in the process of rinsing a glass, he turned his head to face her. “We can talk about exactly how long ‘a while' has been for
you
, and why.”

Nah. That would require bringing up her relationship with Zac, and how, upon learning she was pregnant, he'd refused to do anything more than hold her hand, which she had no desire to do.