Waking Up Pregnant(58)

                And then his eyes were on her, reverent, filled with an awe that made her feel beautiful rather than self-conscious about the way her shape had changed.

                “You’re so gorgeous,” he said in a voice so gruff, she felt the deep vibration of it down to her bones.

                Catching her behind the knees and back, he carried her to the bed and followed her down, their mouths fused in a decadent, promising kiss that had Darcy’s hands coasting over the hard planes of Jeff’s chest, working down his abs, and then fumbling with his belt.

                At her frustrated whimper, he brushed her fingers aside and backed off the bed. His skin was flushed with a combination of exertion, restraint and arousal. His defined musculature flexed with every motion.

                He ran his palm over his mouth and from beneath, she thought she heard the word fantasy.

                But then he was back at his belt. Never in her life had she seen anything so sexy as when, inside of two tugs, he had the belt loose and his fly open. Her eyes followed the neat line of hair arrowing south of his waist and—

                Oh, yes, please.

                His fully engorged shaft was thick and dark and jutting out from his body at an angle that defied gravity. And though she’d seen him like this before—had intimate knowledge of how he fit within her—the sight of him was shocking.

                Arousing. Incredibly, unbearably arousing.

                Making every part of her achy and swollen. Needy. Desperate.

                So she did the only thing she could think of, banking on it garnering the same powerful response it had the first time. Breathless and trembling, she whispered, “Jeff, please.”

                It worked, because before she could draw her next breath, he’d kicked off his pants and shorts, returned to the bed and, body half covering hers, was kissing her senseless.

                Supported on one arm, he stroked her greedily with the other, running a possessive hot touch up and down her thigh, catching the back of her knee in one hand so he could pull it alongside his hip and make hard contact with the soft needful place she wanted him to be.

                Only she was still in her bra and panties. Too many layers between them.

                She was about to complain when Jeff rocked against her just right, and her breath caught and her mind blanked of anything beyond the pressing, immediate need for him to do it again.

                Her hips tilted in wanton invitation. Her hands running from his shoulders down his spine as far as she could reach, her heels sliding up the backs of his hard thighs to just beneath his butt as the steely length of him rolled across the wet strip of thin cotton covering her sex.

                “Yes!”

                Dipping into the cups of her bra, he carefully worked the lace beneath her breasts and sat back, eyes locked on the erotic display he’d made of her.

                “Darcy—”

                But whatever he’d meant to say was lost when he lowered his head and flicked his tongue against the turgid peak.

                The fleeting contact wasn’t enough. Not when he blew a warm breath across the tip, either, and especially not when he brushed his lips in a wicked back and forth tease that on every other pass or so allowed the achingly tight bud to slide between.

                More.

                “Please, Jeff,” she whimpered. “In your mouth. Please.”