Tanya Michaels - Their Precious Christmas Miracle - Mistletoe Baby / In the Spirit of...Christmas / A Baby By Christmas

The porch light was on, probably a holdover from the ladies’ visit earlier, but there was no visible illumination from inside the house. He stood in the pale orange glow and rapped against his own front door.

It swung open immediately, his wife smiling up at him from the shadows. “What took you so long?”

A streak of pure need jolted through his body. “Rachel.”

That was all he got out before he reached for her, pulling her into his arms where she belonged. His mouth fell on hers, and she kissed him back fervently. She tugged on his hair as if trying to bring him closer. He was happy to oblige.

It wasn’t until a gust of particularly frigid December wind hit them that they both realized their front door was standing wide-open. He shoved it closed and turned the dead bolt. The good news was, they’d been in the dark foyer and there were unlikely to be many witnesses at this time of night anyway.

Within seconds, he’d turned back to Rachel, but apparently it had been enough time for her to go. His heart pounded an anxious drumbeat as he struggled to read the situation. Had she suddenly had misgivings, or was she simply awaiting him in their bedroom? As if in response to his questions, a thin ray of light appeared, beckoning him toward the living room.

She was at the sofa, leaning one knee on it without really sitting.

He said the first thing that came to mind. “You’re beautiful.”

She blessed him with an ageless smile, full of feminine secrets. “I feel beautiful.”

Her fingers flirted with the button at the top of her shirt, and David suspected that he would die on the spot. Except that, if he did, he’d never get to make love to Rachel again.

He approached her slowly, curious, not wanting to rush her or take charge of the seduction. As he’d climbed out of his car, he’d been trying to decide on the best plan of action here. Why hadn’t it occurred to him that Rachel might have her own plans?

Mesmerized by the slow slide of the button from its buttonhole, he stopped inches from her. A second button followed, revealing the creamy swell of her breasts. He had to touch her.

He rested his thumb over the third. “May I?”

She nodded, her eyes echoing the urgency he felt. His fingers actually shook as he unbuttoned the shirt and parted the satiny folds of material. Her breasts were so full, their centers darker than he remembered. It made him crazy that her body had started changing with pregnancy and he’d already missed some of it.

Recalling what she’d discussed with the doctor, he asked, “Are they too tender?”

She arched toward him. “Only one way to find out, I guess.”

Keeping his touch featherlight, he trailed two fingers over the slope of her left breast, slowing so that it took forever to reach the tightly puckered nipple. “That hurt?”

Wordless, Rachel shook her head. He wanted to smile, but his entire body was humming with arousal. Still, he focused his concentration on being gentle, bringing her pleasure. He slid the fabric off her shoulders, glancing down to take in the sight of his wife wearing only a pair of pink panties. For just a moment, he slid his hands down over her rib cage to her waist, then back up to her breasts. When he moved to lay her back on the couch and lavish her with more attention, she frowned, tugging instead at his shirt. He struggled free, glad for the sudden cool air against his skin. It might be December outside, but it was an inferno here.

Rachel placed a palm against his chest and gave him that smile again, the one he felt down to his toes. He sat, helping steady her with his hands as she straddled his lap. The urge to bury himself inside her, to reclaim what was his, was overwhelming. But he hadn’t touched her in weeks—hadn’t truly explored her in months—and he refused to deny either of them the experience.

Reaching up, he cupped her breasts together, still gentle but merciless in his attention, running his thumbs over the peaks, bringing her close enough to his mouth to suckle. When she cried out, he had to double-check that he hadn’t caused her any discomfort.

“No,” she assured him. “More.” Her voice sounded exactly like the woman he’d once thought he knew as well as himself, but also not. It was a dizzying, exotic contrast.

He continued to use his tongue and lips against her sensitive flesh, and she bucked in his lap. Edging one finger beneath the band of her panties, he found her slick and ready for him. Having been pushed to exquisite, excruciating limits, he yanked down the combined waistbands of his pants and boxers. She braced one hand on the sofa back for balance while she shimmied out of her own underwear and he sat paralyzed, absorbed in the sheer joy of watching her, the warm light of the end-table lamp bathing her lush curves in gold. She looked like a decadent, pagan treasure. His treasure.

Kissing her again, he slid her across his thighs, so close now that all rational thought fractured and flew. Meshing his hands in her hair, he angled her head back, wanting to look into her eyes as he thrust upward and impaled her. For just a second, their gazes were locked together as intimately as their bodies. Then she leaned forward, rocking in a rhythm that quickly doubled and grew frantic. Fingers clutched on slippery skin and half-formed words of carnal praise were traded breathlessly.

She called out his name, one of the few coherent things either of them managed, just as her muscles constricted around him. Feeling like an exile finally home, David tightened his embrace and lost himself inside her.

They lay together stretched out on the couch for some time, dozing but neither of them falling asleep for long. David idly massaged the small of Rachel’s back, which she seemed to like, judging from the occasional sighs.

He kissed the top of her head. “I don’t think you told me—what actually tipped Ari off about the baby?”

“A combination of a couple of different things. A biggie seemed to be our lunch with her the other day. She said it was obvious there was something we weren’t telling her.”

The comment lodged under his skin like a splinter. He and Rachel had definitely been keeping secrets, and not only the happy news of the pregnancy. As for the other? It was probably impolitic to ask where they stood relationship-wise while he still had her naked against him. They’d dragged an afghan over their bodies as their temperatures dropped back to normal, but neither of them had bothered to dress. Just being around Rachel when she was this uninhibited made him want her again.

Would she expect him to stay the night, or would taking a step that gargantuan be overkill? Despite himself, he grinned. After what they’d just shared, it was hard to imagine anything else being seen as too much, too soon. “I hate to leave you, but I guess I should get back to the dogs.”

She nodded. “I suppose that’s the responsible thing to do.”

He felt around for various pieces of clothing while she watched, her expression inscrutable. “Rach, I can’t tell you how glad I am that you called.”

She shot him a smile so wicked it was probably illegal in fifteen states. “Well, you kept saying that if there was anything I needed …”

He laughed out loud, a tremendous weight off his chest. For the first time all year, he felt deep down in his soul that they were going to be okay. It would take work, and it wouldn’t happen overnight, but they were going to be okay.

His mother was right—this was the season of miracles.

WHITE ROSES awaited Rachel when she walked into work on Wednesday morning.

May nodded toward them with an approving grin. “Someone loves you.”