Brenda Harlen - The Maverick's Thanksgiving Baby

He lifted a hand to touch her hair, his fingers skimming over the silky tresses to cradle the back of her head. Then his mouth was on hers, his lips warm and firm and sure, and she melted against him.

She’d forgotten how strong he was, how solid every inch of his body was. Hard and unyielding. And yet, for all of his strength, he was incredibly gentle. It was that unadulterated masculine strength combined with his inherently gentle nature that had appealed to her from the first.

His hands slid down her back, inched up beneath the hem of her sweater. Then those wide, callused palms were on her skin, sliding up her torso to cup her breasts. Her blood pulsed in her veins, hot and demanding. His thumbs brushed over her nipples through the delicate lace, and she actually whimpered.

He nibbled on her lips. Teasing, tasting, tempting.

“I want you, Maggie.”

She wanted him, too. And though she knew it might be a mistake to let herself succumb to that desire while there was still so much unresolved between them, that knowledge didn’t dampen her need.

“Tell me you feel the same,” he urged.

“I do,” she admitted. “But—”

She forgot the rest of what she’d intended to say when he lifted her off her feet and into his arms.

He carried her up the stairs and down a short hallway to his bedroom with effortless ease. When he set her on her feet beside the bed, she knew that if she was going to protest, now was the time to do so. Then he kissed her again, and any thought of protest flew out of her mind.

Her mouth parted beneath the pressure of his, and his tongue swept inside, teasing the soft inside of her lips. His hands slid down her back, over the curve of her buttocks, pulling her close. The evidence of his arousal fueled her own. Blood pulsed in her veins, pooled low in her belly, making her want so much that she actually ached.

She lifted her hands to the buttons of his shirt and began to unfasten them. She wanted to touch him, to feel the warmth of his bare skin beneath her palms. But the cotton T-shirt under the flannel impeded her efforts. With a frustrated sigh, she tugged the T-shirt out of his jeans and shoved her hands beneath it.

Jesse chuckled softly. “I didn’t realize this was a race.”

“I want to feel your body against mine,” she confessed.

He released her long enough to get rid of his clothes. She sat on the edge of the bed, intending to do the same, but she was still struggling with her boots when his jeans hit the floor. As he kicked them away, she couldn’t help but admire the knit boxer briefs that molded to the firm muscles of his buttocks and thighs at the back and did absolutely nothing to hide the obvious evidence of his arousal at the front.

Her mouth went dry and her fingers froze on the knotted laces. He knelt beside her and efficiently untied the boots and pulled them from her feet. Then he unfastened her jeans and pushed them over her hips, down her legs, finally stripping them away along with her socks.

“Your feet are cold,” he realized, warming them between his palms. “You need thicker socks.”

Not in California, she thought, but didn’t say it aloud. She didn’t want to speak of the distance that separated their lives; she didn’t want anything to take away from the here and now.

“Or I could get under the covers,” she suggested.

“That’s a better plan,” he agreed.

But first, he lifted her sweater over her head and tossed it aside, leaving her clad in only a lace demi-cup bra and matching bikini panties. He sat back on his haunches, the heat in his gaze roaming over her as tangible as a caress, making her nipples tighten and her thighs quiver.

“You absolutely take my breath away,” he told her.

She tugged the covers down and rolled over the bed to snuggle beneath them. Jesse immediately slid in beside her, his hands skimming over her, tracing her curves. He lowered his head to nuzzle the tender skin at the base of her throat, making her shiver.

He glanced up. “Are you still cold?”

She shook her head; he smiled slightly before he lowered his head again, his lips skimming across her collarbone, then tracing the lacy edge of her bra. She could feel his breath, warm on her skin, as his mouth hovered above her breast. Her hand lifted to his head, silently urging him closer. He willingly acquiesced to her direction, laving her nipple with his tongue. The sensation of hot, wet heat through the silky fabric made her gasp, then his lips closed over the lace-covered peak, sending fiery spears of pleasure arrowing to her core.

He found the center clasp of her bra and released it, peeling the fabric aside so he could suckle her bare flesh, making her groan. He tugged the straps down her arms, dropped the garment to the floor. His hands stroked down her torso, his fingers hooking in her panties and dragging them down her legs and away, so that she was completely naked. All the while, his hands and his lips moved over her, teasing and tempting, until her body was fairly quivering with wanting.

Genetics had blessed her with a naturally slim build and the loss of those few pounds had pushed her from slender toward skinny, but she knew that was only a temporary state. Because although her hip bones and ribs were visible now, there was also a subtle roundness to her belly—evidence of the baby she carried.

He splayed his hand over the curve, his wide palm covering her almost from hip bone to hip bone, as if cradling their child, and the sweetness of the gesture made tears fill her eyes.

“Everyone says that a baby is a miracle,” he said. “But the idea of you growing our baby inside of you is every bit as miraculous.”

“You call it miraculous now. In a few more months, you’ll be calling it fat .”

She’d been teasing, attempting to lighten the mood, but as soon as she spoke the words, she wished she could take them back. Talking about the future as if they would be together was a mistake, even if it was—deep in her heart—what she wanted.

But he shook his head. “You’ll always be beautiful to me—the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

Which might have sounded like a well-rehearsed line from another man, but the sincerity in his tone made her heart swell inside her chest.

“I want to be with you through every step of your pregnancy,” he continued. “I want to see the changes in your body as our baby grows. I want to be the one who runs to the grocery store in the middle of the night when you have a sudden craving for ice cream.”

“I didn’t think the store in Rust Creek Falls was open in the middle of the night.”

“Lucky for you, I have a key.”

“That is lucky,” she agreed. “But I don’t want to worry about the future right now.”

“What do you want?”

She lifted her arms to link them behind his neck. “You. I only want you.”

“Well, that’s convenient,” he said. “Because I want you, too.”

Then he captured her mouth in a long, slow kiss that went on and on until her head was actually spinning. The hand that was on her belly inched lower. His fingers sifted through the soft curls at the apex of her thighs and her hips automatically lifted off the bed, wordlessly encouraging his exploration. He parted the slick folds and dipped inside. She didn’t know if it was the pregnancy hormones or Jesse, but all it took was that one stroke, deep inside, and she flew apart.

He continued to stroke her while the convulsions rippled through her body. Her hands fisted in the sheet, as she tried to anchor herself against the onslaught of sensations. “Jesse, please.”

He leaned forward to reach into the drawer beside his bed and pulled out a small square packet.

Though she was reassured by this evidence of what was obviously a long-ingrained habit, she had to smile. “Isn’t that a little like closing the barn door after the horse is out?”