Expecting his child(18)

Keeping her gaze above his throat didn't help, she thought. His eyes did  things to her. They always had. "Why?" she asked, trying to keep the  edginess from her voice.

A wave of self-consciousness flashed across his face. It was so rare an expression for him she almost didn't catch it.

"I need to read," he said.

Puzzled, she frowned. "Is this a late aftereffect of your concussion? Do you need me to read to you?"

"No. I need to read," he said, shoving his hands in his jean pockets, "and you need to be in the room. Close by."

Still confused, she walked closer. "Okay. Where should I sit?"

"The bed's fine," he said.

Martina glanced at him sideways.

"This isn't a seduction," he said. "It sounds a little hokey, but Adam  read this article about how reading to babies while they're in the womb  increases their intelligence."                       
       
           



       

Amused, but mostly touched, Martina sat on his bed. "You want to read to the baby."

He shrugged and nodded. "Yeah."

Her heart contracted. "Okay. What did you have in mind? Not stock reports."

He chuckled darkly. "No. Adam suggested War and Peace, but I told him that might be kinda heavy for a baby."

"So what did you choose?"

He picked up a book from the nightstand. "The Hobbit," he said. "I  figure between the two of us this child will get plenty of adventure  genes, so we might as well let her get started."

And so Noah sat next to her on his big bed and began to read the  wondrous story of how boring, respectable and comfortable Bilbo Baggins  got suckered into a wild and dangerous adventure.

And with each passing word of his baritone voice, Martina fell for him a  little more. Noah had lied when he'd said this wasn't a seduction. It  was a seduction of the most secret places in her heart. Although she'd  occasionally badgered her brothers into reading to her when she was a  child, her father had never read to her. She would have given up ice  cream for a year just to have her father read the sports section of the  newspaper to her.

When Noah finished the first chapter, he put the book back on the  nightstand and gazed at her in an assessing way. "You're very quiet."

"I was listening." And feeling too much. Wanting too much.

"You're thinking I'm crazy."

No, I'm thinking I am crazy. "Not at all," she said. "Did your father read to you?"

"Never," Noah said. "I will be a better father than my father was."

She watched him rub the back of his neck and could tell he was tired.  "Why don't you get ready for bed and let me rub your neck for you?"

Surprise and near refusal chased quiet curiosity across his face. "Okay," he finally said. "Give me a couple of minutes."

He washed up in the bathroom and returned wearing briefs and nothing  else. Martina suspected he'd kept on the briefs in deference to her, but  they hid little. The air grew thick as she breathed. "I'll sit behind  you since you can't lie down," she offered, and moved farther back on  the bed to make room for him.

He sat down and she tentatively lifted her fingers to his corded neck.  She kneaded the tight muscles and massaged his shoulders. His tension  showed in the knots she rubbed.

Noah made a rough sound of appreciation. "I don't remember you being such a good masseuse."

"We didn't have a lot of time," she said, "for taking time."

He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. "That was wrong."

Her heart tripped over itself. "You're tired. You should go to sleep."

"You should stay with me tonight," he murmured.

"Maybe I will." The words popped out of her mouth, but originated in her heart.

She felt him stop breathing. He turned carefully and eased back against  the pillows propped in front of the headboard. He chuckled and covered a  wide yawn. "You would pick a night when I can barely keep my eyes  open."

Martina smiled to cover her nerves. "I'm ornery that way."

He held out his arm. "Then be ornery next to me."

She moved to his side and reached to turn out the light. A suspended  awareness seemed to swell in the very air around her. In the darkness,  she lightly pressed her cheek to Noah's chest and felt the beating of  his heart. She pulled back slightly and he stopped her by curling his  hand over her cheek.

"Stay," he muttered.

"I can't lean on your ribs. I might hurt you." She entwined her fingers  through his and slowly lowered her cheek to a pillow. "Go to sleep," she  whispered.

Too tense, too aware of him to relax, Martina lay stiffly beside him  absorbing the rhythm of his breaths and the sensation of his strong hand  in hers. A score of emotions tugged at her  –  anxiety, tenderness,  desire, uneasiness. But through them all, she had the odd sense that she  was where she was supposed to be. Her mind and her brothers and the  rest of the world could argue with her until sunrise, but Martina felt  she was where she belonged.

If only until sunrise.

Hours later, she awakened to the sensation of Noah's hands on her bare belly. "What?"

"It's okay," he said, his voice both sensual and reassuring. "It's just me."

Just me, Martina thought. When had Noah ever been just anything?

"I keep having this dream where I'm touching your belly and the baby is  moving." He brushed his finger over her lips. "And you're kissing me."

Martina licked her lips, her tongue glancing over his finger. His eyes  lit like twin fires, and he slid his finger into her mouth. The small  sensual invasion kicked the doors off her denial of the past months.  This man could make her want like no other. She suckled gently on his  finger and he groaned, then urged her onto his lap.                       
       
           



       

Lifting her shirt, he splayed his hands over her bare belly and held her with his gaze. "Kiss me."

His words were a combination order and plea she couldn't refuse. Martina  slowly leaned forward and rubbed her mouth against his. He darted his  tongue over her lips and inside, tasting her, taking her. His warmth and  passion moved over her like a wave of heat on a hot Texas afternoon.  Her heart pounded against her rib cage and her body temperature soared.  She touched his chest and felt his heart pound against her palm. Could  he really want her so much?

Noah pulled her shirt upward, stopping at her neck as if he was loath to  pull his mouth from hers. With a reluctant sigh, he pulled away  slightly and tugged the shirt over her head. He gazed at her bare torso  and pushed her panties low on her belly. "Oh, Martina, you have no idea  what seeing you like this does to me." He shifted and lifted his dark,  frankly sexual gaze to hers. "But you will. Up on your knees darlin',"  he told her.

Martina complied. "Why?"

"Closer," he said, wrapping his large hands around her bottom and bringing her belly directly in front of his face.

Then he ran his hands all over her abdomen and followed with his mouth.  His mouth on her ripe midsection was the most erotic sight of her life.  She felt herself turn to liquid in all her secret places.

As he rubbed his cheek against her stomach, he lifted his hands and  unfastened her bra. He ran his hands lightly over her breasts, finding  her nipples already hard. "I would never have thought I could have  wanted you more than I did in Chicago, but I was wrong," he said, and  drew her lower so he could take her breast into his mouth.

Dispensing with her panties, he slid his fingers between her thighs and  gently stroked her. Martina had never felt so voluptuously desirable. He  made her ache for his possession. Each stroke of his tongue over her  nipple and each flick of his finger over her femininity drove her closer  to a frenzy of need. She tried, unsuccessfully, to bite back a moan.

Noah pulled back, his eyes nearly black with sexual intent. "What do you want?"

She shuddered as he continued to stroke her. "You in me. I want you in me."

He swore. "I don't want to hurt you."

She shook her head. "You won't."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, swollen with wanting.

He quickly ditched his briefs and drew her hand to his full erection. He  kissed her mouth as she stroked him. Touching wasn't enough, so she  pulled back and lowered her mouth to kiss him intimately.

Noah let out a low groan. His thighs taut as bands against her breasts,  he allowed her to take him into her mouth, but only for a moment. "I  can't last, baby. Come to me."

On trembling knees, she mounted him, and at his deliciously full  invasion, her moan mingled with his. For one powerful moment, they gazed  into each other's eyes, joined at last. The evidence of their previous  passion for each other, her ripe belly, served as yet another erotic,  emotional reminder of their bond. Filled with Noah in the most basic  way, she felt her landslide of emotions tumbling her more deeply toward  him.