Marin Thomas - The Surgeon's Christmas Baby

He opened his mouth to tell her how much he wanted her, but she pressed her finger against his lips and shook her head. The silent message in her eyes begged him not to make any promises. Tonight was all she wanted from him.

They undressed each other—one button, one zipper at a time. Her boots and jeans, then his. He slid her shirt off her shoulders, kissing each inch of exposed skin. The material bunched at her wrist and with her arms trapped by her sides, he trailed his finger over the swirls of lace on her bra. Her breath caught, then her eyelids closed. She moaned when he cupped her breast and the sensual sound released a wave of testosterone through his body.

“Wait.” Her fingers clamped down on his wrist.

His heart thudded loudly in his ears, and he worried she’d changed her mind. She got to her feet and walked across the loft, then unlatched the door and pushed it open. Light spilled across the blanket, and when she returned and stretched out beside him, her skin shimmered in the sliver glow of the moon.

He removed her bra, tossing it somewhere behind him. He took his time pleasuring her, nibbling, licking the soft mounds. Her fingers sneaked inside the waistband of his briefs, robbing him of what little self-control he possessed.

Hannah might be sweet but she knew what she needed from him and he intended to deliver. They removed the rest of their clothing and he kissed her, deep and slow. Arms and legs became tangled as they lost themselves in the magic of the night.

* * *

A DULL PAIN shot up Alonso’s arm, dragging him from a deep slumber. He didn’t have the energy to open his eyes and his foggy brain struggled to register the weight pressing against him. The heaviness wiggled and a soft sigh reached his ears, then he remembered—Hannah. He slid his arm free from beneath her, his fingers tingling as the circulation returned to his hand. She snuggled closer, sliding her leg between his thighs, and he caressed her back, trailing his fingers over her spine and sexy backside.

He closed his eyes, believing Hannah was a miracle drug. He’d hooked up with a couple of women after he’d returned from Afghanistan and neither one had made him feel renewed. Hannah’s touch had flushed out the ugly side of humanity and replaced it with a sense of hope and peace.

He’d become a trauma surgeon because he wanted to save people’s lives—but medical school hadn’t prepared him for the toll that all the violent injuries would take on his soul. The tragedies followed him home after his shift, sneaking into his bed and haunting his sleep. But tonight, after Hannah had drifted off in his arms, he hadn’t dreamed at all.

He closed his eyes, feeling serene. Content. Maybe he hadn’t needed to walk a thousand miles to clear his head—maybe he’d just needed to walk until he’d found Hannah.

Nothing good lasts forever .

With that thought in mind, he kissed her temple, hoping to rouse her from sleep. He needed her again.

She scratched her toe against his calf. “You’re awake.”

“Are you?”

She rolled on top of him, her hair falling across his face. “I am now.” She pressed kisses to his nose, forehead and chin. He chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m not used to a woman taking the lead.” He felt her smile against his neck.

“I’m not a woman who waits for a man to rescue her.” She playfully bit his shoulder. “I can do anything a man can and then some.”

She’d get no argument from him. He held her face and brought her mouth to his. “You can take the lead anytime.” He gave himself over to Hannah and her healing touch. This time their lovemaking was slow and gentle. The stars were no longer visible in the sky when he closed his eyes and drifted into another dreamless sleep.

* * *

WHEN HANNAH WOKE in the hayloft, she was alone. She stretched on the blanket, twitching at the bits of hay poking her skin. Then she smiled—a smile that blossomed deep inside her.

Alonso had been just what the doctor ordered.

Her smile grew wider. She knew what she’d done with him had been out of character, but if she was going to have a one-night stand, she couldn’t have picked a better man. She could justify her actions all she wanted—she was stressed out, lonely, whatever. But the truth was, if she’d met Alonso when her life hadn’t been so crazy, she’d still have been wowed by him.

Hannah didn’t completely understand the attraction—they had nothing in common. He was city. She was country. He was college educated. She wasn’t. He saved lives. She was just trying to save her brother. He led an exciting life. She didn’t. But none of that had mattered last night.

All good things had to come to an end, and even though she’d rather spend the day in the loft with Alonso, she had chores to do. She dressed, then hurried from the barn. When she entered the house, the smell of frying bacon greeted her nose. Alonso stood in front of the stove, stirring a mountain of scrambled eggs in her cast-iron skillet. Their gazes clashed, then his brown eyes roamed over her disheveled state and his lips curved in a smile.

“You have a piece of hay stuck in your hair.”

She brushed her snarly tresses out of her eyes and searched for something to say.

“I didn’t want to wake Luke to take a shower in his bathroom,” he said. “So I used yours.”

“I’ll be right down.” She raced upstairs, took a quick shower, then changed clothes. On her way back to the kitchen she stopped outside Luke’s door and knocked. She waited for his usual “go away,” but this morning she got no response. She opened the door and poked her head inside the room. His bed was still made and his cell phone sat on the dresser. Where had he gone? Better yet, how long had he been gone?

“Did you see Luke this morning?” she asked when she returned to the kitchen.

“Isn’t he sleeping?” Alonso divided the eggs between three plates.

“No. It doesn’t look as if he slept in his bed.” Guilt tore through Hannah. If she hadn’t been wrapped up in Alonso last night—literally—she’d have gone into the house and checked on Luke when they’d returned from Maloney’s.

“Have you tried his cell phone?”

“He left it on the dresser.” A ploy Luke used when he didn’t want Hannah knowing where he was. “I bet a friend picked him up last night.” She doubted it had been Connor, which left one other suspect—Ben Nichols.

“Have you checked your phone for messages?” Alonso asked.

“Good idea.” She took her cell from her purse and entered the pass code, then breathed a sigh of relief. “Someone left a voice mail.” As she listened to the recording, her legs grew weak and she sank into the chair at the table.

“Hannah, this is Sheriff Miller. Come into the station when you get this. I have Luke here.”

Dear God, what kind of trouble had her brother got into this time? She’d warned him to straighten up, but had he listened to her? No . She set the phone down. “That was Sheriff Miller.”

Alonso’s eyebrows lifted.

“Luke’s at the jail.”

Alonso moved behind her chair and massaged her shoulders. The tender act brought a lump to her throat. “Is he okay?”

“I assume so, or Sheriff Miller would have said something.” If only Alonso’s gentle touch could wash away her fears. Fear that she was failing Luke. She wanted so badly for her brother to succeed—why was he rebelling?

“Did the sheriff say what happened?”

“No, but I’ll find out soon.” The eggs on the plate in front of her began to blur.

Alonso knelt next to her chair and tipped her chin until she looked him in the eye. “If you want, I’ll go with you to see the sheriff.”

Her gaze shifted to his duffel bag by the door. She was dragging Alonso into her problems again, but she was so tired of handling Luke on her own. “You wouldn’t mind?”