Page 28 of The Housekeeper's One-Night Baby
‘Come here,’ he whispered, and Lizzie went straight into his waiting arms, lifting up her face as he drove his lips down on hers—and it wasn’t until they were both out of breath that he drew away and looked down into her face, his eyes hot with hunger.
‘Do you know how long I have been thinking about doing this to you?’ he growled.
‘How long?’ she said breathlessly.
‘Since I walked out of that door, back in the summer—there hasn’t been a single day when I haven’t fantasised about this.’
She was about to admit to the same such longings, but then he started kissing her again and the moment was lost.
She made an inadequate little gulp of protest as he picked her up and carried her over to the bed—the additional weight of her pregnancy not seeming to bother him at all. But his hands were gentler than Lizzie remembered as he began to remove her painting smock and the rest of her clothes, until she was left in nothing but her underwear. She should have been nervous, but nerves weren’t getting a look-in, because wasn’t there something incredibly flattering about the slight unsteadiness of his fingers as he whipped back the snowy counterpane and laid her down on his vast bed?
His hand reached behind to unfasten her new bra with its miracle underpinning and her breasts came tumbling out, bigger than he would have remembered them. For a moment he just stared at them, before bending his head to slowly kiss each peaking nipple, and Lizzie moaned beneath the lick of his tongue, turned on by the contrast of his tousled black head against her freckled skin. Next came her panties, slithered down over trembling thighs before he unceremoniously flicked those aside too. His black gaze raked over her with a burning intensity, but as it lingered briefly on the curve of her belly she saw his eyes cloud with something which looked like pain and instinctively, Lizzie shivered. Did he find the sight of her burgeoning body repulsive? Was he about to change his mind?
‘Is something wrong?’ she whispered.
But he shook his head, scooping up the discarded duvet and floating it down on top of her as if he couldn’t wait to cover her up.
‘You’re cold,’ he remarked matter-of-factly.
Lizzie thought about all the things she could say and knew one thing for sure. She might not get another chance to do this—so why waste it by playing games? She didn’t feel cold. She felt strong and vital. She didn’t want him swathing her in bubble wrap and treating her as if she were made of glass. She wanted him as man to her woman. As equals. Even if it were for one night only. Just like last time. ‘I’m not,’ she contradicted. ‘Just excited.’
‘Well, that’s a coincidence because so am I.’ He gave an unsteady laugh. ‘And this has been a long time in the waiting.’
She watched as he began to undress, removing his clothes unselfconsciously, as if this was something he’d done many times before—which of course, he must have done. But Lizzie forced herself not to focus on the differences which existed between them. It didn’t matter how many lovers he’d had before her. What mattered was being here now. With him. And he wasn’t thinking of other women—not if that hungry expression on his face was anything to go by. He stepped out of the silken boxer shorts which had made no secret of his arousal, but seeing him completely naked drove home just how physically well endowed he was.
Did her face betray her flicker of apprehension? Was that why he came towards her, sitting on the edge of the bed while he stroked away the tumbled strands of her hair?
‘Changing your mind is always a viable option, but sooner might be better than later,’ he commented wryly.
As Lizzie shook her head, it occurred to her that he might actuallywanther to cancel this. Did he? Wouldn’t that be more sensible for both of them, in the long run? Well, too bad. If that was really what he wanted then he was going to have to do the ejecting because she couldn’t move. She didn’t want to do anything except drink in all his strength and magnificence. ‘That’s not going to happen,’ she whispered boldly, her hand trailing slowly over the rocky muscles of his arm.
‘This is all new to me.’ His words were urgent as he got into bed and pulled her into his arms. ‘I’ve never had sex with a pregnant woman before.’
‘I should hope not.’ But it thrilled her to think this was something he’d never done before. That she was his first, just as he had been for her. She shivered as he began to touch her, featherlight fingertips whispering over her skin. With rapt preoccupation, he stroked her breasts, her hips, her thighs...though she noticed he steered well clear of her belly. ‘You won’t hurt me,’ she whispered. ‘Intercourse is allowed. At least, that’s what the clinic told me.’
He drew back from her, his black eyes narrowed. ‘You were asking the clinic about sex?’ he demanded.
Lizzie knew he had no right to be so proprietorial, but that didn’t stop her from basking in the possessive husk of his tone. ‘It’s all part of their general advice,’ she said. ‘The staff go out of their way to make you realise that having sex during pregnancy is perfectly normal and nothing to be frightened of.’
She waited for him to ask more. To ask the question she’d been longing for him to ask ever since he’d turned up on that cold winter’s day in London. But he didn’t and she felt the sudden twist of her heart. He didn’twantto know about the sex of their child and either she accepted that, or she shouldn’t be here. He lowered his head and began to kiss her and she wasn’t sure if he’d done it to silence her, or reduce her to a state where she wasn’t thinking properly. But it worked. He kissed her until she was mindless with longing. Her nipples prickled and her tummy tightened—a rush of pure heat flooding her as his hand reached between her legs.
‘Oh,’ she said faintly, as his finger flicked out a delicate rhythm and she lay star-fished against his mattress.
‘Oh, what?’ he whispered.
‘I don’t remember,’ she whispered back.
She knew she was probably being too passive but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. She couldn’t even think straight as waves of sensation began to swamp her and soon she was convulsing around his questing finger and choking out little moans of satisfaction.
His lips against her hair, he cradled her in his arms and for a while she just lay there in warm silence while her senses slowed and righted themselves. And didn’t some fragment of her mind wonder whether he had deliberately bombarded her with pleasure while demanding none for himself because it gave him back all the control and left her with none?
‘I want to be inside you,’ he said roughly, as if he had read her thoughts, and Lizzie was taken aback by just how relieved she felt.
‘I want that too,’ she said, almost shyly—which was slightly ironic in the circumstances. She was heavy with his child, for heaven’s sake—and yet she was behaving like a virgin. But what happened next wasn’t what she had been hoping for. His lips and his fingers were as dextrous as ever, but there was something almostmechanicalabout his actions as he gently turned her onto her side and began to play with her nipples from his position behind her. It was a turn-on most definitely, but it wasn’t in the least bit emotional.
Yet still she reacted. She couldn’t help herself. She could feel his muscular body pressing against her back. The unmistakable nudge of his erection butting against her bottom. The powerful, hair-roughened thighs so hard against her soft flesh. A slug of desire hit her as his fingers reacquainted themselves with her moist folds and he began to strum her until she was mindless with longing once more.
‘Do you like it like this, Lizzie?’ he murmured into her ear, as his finger feathered up and down over her slick skin. ‘Does it feel okay?’
