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Waking Up Pregnant(57)

By:Mira Lyn Kelly


                This kiss was a crushing, urgent demand. An almost angry claim. A brutal stamp against her mouth so searingly hot and unexpected it terminated all thought, all reason, all response beyond the most base, primal instinct within her.

                To take more.

                More of him. His kiss. The heat surging through her veins. The high charge current coursing over her skin in search of an outlet.

                She needed it with a desperation she’d never known. And when her mouth fell open beneath his in welcoming surrender and his tongue drove between her parted lips it was as if the circuit closed and this hot, shared, sensual energy overtook them both.

                Her fingers were in his hair, tight and pulling him closer into more demanding contact. Her body arching into a firm press of breasts, and belly, and thighs to meet the hard bow of his. Oh, God, it was good.

                All that heat against her sensitive, so long neglected body.

                All that contact and promise.

                All that want.

                She was drowning in it. Lost in the desire ratcheting higher with each thrust of Jeff’s tongue. Begging him with every needy gasp and tug to take her deeper. Give her more. Make it last.

                And it did, until the dizzying need for air had them breaking away, but only to move on in their greedy exploration. Hands roaming a restless path across her back and bottom, into her hair and over her arms, Jeff devoured her neck—each wicked pull of his mouth, firm stroke of his tongue and gentle scrape of his teeth acting as the trigger to another sensual detonation within her.

                “It’s got to be you, Darcy,” he growled between deft flicks of his tongue into the shallow behind her ear, the palm of one hand finding her heavy breast. “If this needs to stop...”

                He pulled back, his eyes burning down the length of her body before meeting hers. “I can’t make myself do it.”

                She shook her head, hating the scant inches between them and the cool air threatening to carry reason back into the mix. “Don’t stop. I don’t want to stop. Just this once. Tonight. I don’t want you to stop.”

                “Just this once.” His thumb swept across the soft cotton at her breast, and again when it pebbled tight against the confines of her bra. “And then we put it behind us.”

                Nodding frantically, she asked, “Can you do that? Can we agree?”

                “Right now I’d agree to anything.” His eyes dropped to the straining bud of her nipple. Went darker as he gently pinched it through the layers of fabric making her breath catch and stutter at the pleasure piercing her core, the molten heat spilling through her center. “But yes, I can do that.”

                At the next decadent circle of this thumb, she moaned, pressing into his touch. “Jeff, please.”

                His eyes blinked closed in an expression that bordered on pained. “You don’t know...Darcy, how many nights...I’ve replayed those two words in my head.”

                This time, Darcy was the one to still. The sharp ache in her heart, clearing the sensual fog surrounding her in one stab. He’d admitted to thinking about them being together in the past. But always in the context of some emotionally barren, throwaway comment, underscoring the lack of meaning behind it. But this time, tonight, there was nothing throwaway in his tone. Only they’d just agreed—

                Before she could think too much about it though, his hands were on the hem of her borrowed T-shirt and he was stripping it from her with the same efficiency he’d pulled it off himself.