LITMIR.BIZ

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his bloodstream.

      She’d accepted his decision about the stairs. Tonight she’d admitted that surrendering to their passion was inevitable. Soon she would understand that his resolve to marry her was also non-negotiable.

      He respected Sophie and her desire to stand tall and be herself. He’d come to care deeply for her too, in ways that had sometimes left him aching and wondering where to funnel all that emotion. But tonight they’d found the answer: in each other’s arms.

      They hadn’t had a disagreement in a month, and were alike in the matters that truly counted. Their morals, their sexual attraction towards each other. Their baby. Should anything else matter?

      Her hand fluttered over his stomach and latched on to his most eager appendage.

      ‘You haven’t forgotten about my raging hormones, have you?’ she purred. ‘I might just run you ragged.’

      Bone-melting comets shot from his crotch down to his toes and back up again. Don’t worry about turning his dials. Already she was close to blowing him off the map.

      He cupped her rump and shoved her roughly against him. ‘Stamina, thy name is Smith.’

      He hadn’t finished the sentence before a bolt of shame tore through his centre and he realised what he’d done—manhandled her backside as if she were a piece of un-pregnant meat.

      Had he caused damage? Should he shoot himself now?

      As gently as his growing dread allowed, he moved back and examined her face, her belly. ‘Are you all right?’

      She looked at him as if his brain had been invaded by alien beings. ‘I’m fine. Wonderful, in fact.’

      ‘I didn’t hurt you? Maybe hurt the baby?’

      Her warm smile went a long way to soothing his charred conscience. ‘The baby is protected, Cooper. Don’t worry.’

      He probed her eyes. ‘There’s nothing I can do that will harm him?’

      ‘At this stage? Not a lot.’ She coiled her leg provocatively over his hip. ‘But if you need to find your sea legs, front to front is very safe.’ Her teeth grazed his chin. ‘Or so I’ve read.’

      Happy hormones of the XY variety surged to wash away any remaining doubt. He held her raised thigh and eased her close against the length of his body. ‘Your research?’

      He dropped a kiss on her temple, her cheek, her soft, welcoming mouth.

      ‘Mmm … Cooper …?’

      His blood was liquid lava now. ‘Yes, sweetheart?’

      ‘Let’s not talk anymore.’

      He chuckled. ‘I like the way you think.’

      He loved the way she felt. Her skin smooth as satin, her hair bouncy and soft. Best of all he loved the way she gripped him when he finally entered her, bit by bit, holding back long enough to know she was ready, as she’d never been before.

      They held each other, pressed in tight, his body damp with perspiration, hers slick with desire. Their synchronised rhythm continued to increase until the urgent push of anticipated reward couldn’t be denied one moment more.

      He felt her muscles tense at the same time as his mind closed down, the dam broke loose, and he shuddered with the visceral joy of pulsating release.

      He groaned and held her so close that some part of him was convinced they had morphed into one. He’d never felt more complete than at that moment. She was his again, and would be from this night forward. They belonged together, for so many reasons, and he would make certain nothing and no one ever tore them apart. What he had now, what he treasured most, he would never let go.

      When the waves finally died, and the physical intensity ebbed away, he inhaled deeply and, running his palm up and down her smooth back, reflected on the thrill of making love again at last. And didn’t it just beat all? In no time he was craving to know her again—with his arms, his mouth, with everything that made him a man.

      He heard and felt the crinkle as she nuzzled her cheek against his chest, then sighed long and loud. ‘Mmm, that was good.’

      Smiling at the heat already stirring in his loins, he breathed in the sweet fragrance of her hair. ‘If that was good, I can’t wait for fantastic.’

      Her tummy gave a quiet growl, and he frowned.

      He didn’t want to bust up the party, but he guessed they really ought to break for sustenance; she hadn’t eaten since lunch, and that couldn’t be good for the baby. Thirty minutes and they could regroup for a variation on tonight’s ‘safe sex’ theme. He could barely wait.

      He was about to suggest roast beef and homemade potato salad sandwiches, but stopped when she rubbed his cheek in a let’s-lie-here-and-talk kind of way.

      He held her a little tighter. ‘Something up?’ Besides the obvious.

      She paused before taking a deep breath. ‘What do you want more than anything?’ She dropped a warm kiss at the base of his throat and looked up into his eyes.

      He covered her hand with his, and in a solemn voice told her the truth. ‘I want to keep this child, our child, safe and always under my care.’

      She seemed to think it through. ‘What does that mean, exactly? You want to give up your job to be a full-time caregiver?’

      He chuckled. He loved her sense of humour. ‘That’s not exactly it, no.’

      ‘Or is it that you want to come home each night,’ she continued, ‘knowing that your wife has cared for your baby and your house?’

      He paused. He recognised that tone. This was one of her trick questions. The answer was an unreserved yes. But instinct said she wanted to hear no.

      He wasn’t going to jeopardise a month’s good work and argue now.

      He’d just let it slide.

      But she persisted. ‘What about childcare? Nannies versus larger facilities? Maybe you’d be prepared to work twenty hours a week instead of fifty or sixty, so you could do three days at home with the baby one week, two days the next?’

      He frowned. Was she serious? ‘Besides other considerations, at this stage in my career that’s not feasible.’

      ‘But you’d be happy enough for me to give up my career?’

      Heartbeat thudding in his ears, he let go of her hand to rake his hair back from his brow. He stared at the ceiling. Clearly swinging her around would need some work. But not now. Plenty of time to discuss what was best for everyone over the coming days and weeks.

      His hand found hers again, and this time he squeezed. ‘We’ve just made love. I don’t want to argue.’

      ‘I’m not being argumentative. I’m addressing issues that need to be addressed, whether we marry or not.’

      His jaw tightened. With the dividends from his investments, they would live on the sunnier side of easy street the rest of their lives. He understood she might want to hold on to part of her independence, but after the birth surely she’d want to spend the majority of her time with her own child rather than other people’s?

      She cut into his thoughts. ‘I want to show you something.’ Moving her hand from beneath his, she made a fist and presented him with an elevated view of the closed pinky end. ‘See that line between the creases of my hand and curled little finger?’

      He looked closer. No, but anyway …

      ‘That indicates how many children I’ll have,’ she said. ‘I have one line, which means one child.’

      Oh, come on, now.

      He slanted her hand away and sat up. ‘I don’t believe that old wives’ tale, and neither do you.’ She was angling for a reaction—a way to introduce

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