A roaring sound deep in his brain silenced everything else. Ross’s world narrowed to the feeling of his cock, buried deep inside a stranger, the beat of her heart against his chest, and the press of nails against his back. He tried to maintain the agonizingly slow movements, but she pulled him tighter and urged him on with her hips.
“Kelsey, are you…?”
She silenced him with another kiss. Ross gave up then, gave in to the tidal wave of need. He thrust again and again, wishing he could move inside her forever, but the pressure built so quickly he was overwhelmed, barely able to keep up. He captured one nipple between his teeth, rolled it gently and then sucked, finding his own control in making her lose hers. Kelsey moaned and arched. Long hair tangled around his hands, her neck, the bed. He moved to the other breast, all the while thrusting, the pleasure spilling through every nerve of his body.
“Harder,” she whispered, her voice clear now. “Faster. Please.”
Her soft breath on his cheek snapped the cord holding back the beast inside. His body took over with a roar, owning and possessing, trusting that wherever he went, she was with him. There was no sound other than their frantic breathing, the creak of the bed, the pounding of his heart. Her hands dropped low on his buttocks, pressing him closer. Her legs flexed and tightened around his torso, a line of energy from thigh to toe.
Damn, but she was strong. He’d never realized how he’d always held back, just a little, when he’d had sex. But he didn’t need to hold back with Kelsey. Her lithe, supple muscles promised that she could take him, all of him. All of his need and energy and lust. Dimly, he registered the unfamiliar feeling in an ancient, primitive part of his brain. Then he let his body and brain separate and forgot himself in the sizzle of energy. He thrust faster and harder, until they fell into the vortex of their need. Then she arched, cried, and exploded against him, and he felt his own body burst into a final crescendo of release.
Chapter Two
Present day
Kelsey stared nervously at the head of the infant who had been unceremoniously placed in her lap. She tried not to breathe in the smell of talcum powder, milk, and diapers. Babies always left her slightly nauseated, though she was never sure if it was because of their odor, the feel of their soft weight, or the look of them, with their helpless, fragile heads. Perhaps it was the simple knowledge that she was absolutely, without a doubt, unqualified to touch them. She tried to avoid direct contact with anything younger than two years, but that was difficult when her best friend ran a nanny agency.
“Marie, there’s no way I could—”
Her friend stopped her with a raised hand. “I’m not asking you to babysit Oscar. I promised his mother I’d care for him personally. She had to go back to work today and is a total wreck.” Marie gestured around the kitchen in which they stood. “Check out the mess. I don’t think she’s cleaned a thing since the kid was born. I told her I’d tidy up and do the laundry while I was here and she practically kissed my feet.”
Marie was right. The small house was littered with diaper pails, bouncy chairs, and onesies. Every end table seemed to be covered with discarded coffee cups and dirty dishes.
“Besides, I wouldn’t dream of dropping a baby on your lap. You’ve been pretty clear about your phobia.”
“It’s not a phobia,” Kelsey protested. “It’s more like…erm…”
Marie quirked a brow. “An allergy?”
She pouted. “Now you’re making fun of me.”
“Maybe just a little. Baby-phobe. You really think I would leave a helpless infant in your care?”
Kelsey grinned at the pleasure of being so well understood. Ever since Marie had started up the Gentle Hands Nanny Agency a year ago, she’d been bugging Kelsey to face her fear, though always subtly. Or at least, as subtle as Marie was capable of being. This morning, when Marie had summoned her at 8:00 a.m., claiming she had an emergency, Kelsey had assumed she was in for more of the same. She should have known Marie wouldn’t be crazy enough to leave a helpless six-week-old infant in her unskilled arms.
She looked around for something to throw at Marie, but then the creature moved, and it startled her so badly she almost dropped it. “Jesus, Marie, don’t distract me while I’m holding this thing.”
“That thing is a baby, hon, not a tarantula.”
“Maybe to you. You spent your childhood carrying around so many babies you developed hips when you were eight.”
“What are you saying?” Marie padded her rounded curves. “Are you suggesting I’ve got big hips?”