Rebecca York - Her Baby's Father

He loved the soft skin of her arms when he stroked them, the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest. Her scent, which wasn’t anything he could define but was unique to her.

She kissed him as though they were two lovers at the end of the world who had thought they were doomed to live out their days alone. Then they’d found each other, and everything had changed.

“Jack,” she murmured against his mouth, her tongue finding the inside of his lips, the line of his teeth, stroking him with a maddening sensuality.

They had met only today. He had to keep reminding himself of that when he wanted to pick her up in his arms and carry her into the house. Straight to his bed.

And she would have come with him. She’d as much as said she would. Or she wanted to.

He ached to slip his hand between them and cup her breast, and it took all his restraint to stop himself from doing it.

He warned himself not to go too fast. Not to do anything that would ruin things before they really got started.

Forcing himself to go slowly, he pulled away. His breath was coming hard and fast. So was hers.

She looked into his eyes for a long moment, then lowered her head to his shoulder, gripping his arms.

He could have sat here all night holding her, if she would let him. “You should go before I take this too far.”

“I know.” The broken sound of her voice tore at him.

She didn’t raise her head or let go of him, but stayed where she was.

“Jack,” she said again, his name easing out of her like a long sigh. “I never thought this would ever happen again.”

The words jolted him. “What do you mean ‘again’?”

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