“I need your hot body and some ice cream,” she answered in a sultry voice. “But first I need a shower.”
“Me? You need me? Should we be doing that?” Sex was safe when a woman was pregnant, right? Shit, he really had to look that information up immediately.
“Oh yeah. We should be doing it a lot. I’m horny all the time. Hormones,” she whispered as she gently took his earlobe between her teeth and nibbled.
Christ. He had no control when it came to Kara. His c**k throbbed with the need to bury himself inside of her welcoming heat. “We should be careful,” he answered, his mind already filled with erotic thoughts, his caveman wanting to take control. My woman. Pregnant. My baby.
Mine. Fucking completely mine.
“I need sex. Lots and lots of sex. Hot, sweaty, crazy sex,” Kara told him emphatically. “And I expect you to meet my needs since you knocked me up.”
Yeah. He had. He’d planted his seed inside of her and it had taken root. An animalistic, male satisfaction slammed into him. “How crazy exactly?” Simon shifted, his c**k ready to explode inside of his jeans. “What’s safe?”
“Any way I want you to f**k me. I’m only at about five weeks pregnant right now. Some women get tired, sick or lose their sex drive during their first trimester, but not me. I want to get laid at least five times a day.” Kara rubbed against him sensually with a small, breathy moan. “Don’t be afraid to make love to me. It’s safe. And I need you. In every way.”
At that moment, Simon wanted to meet any needs Kara had, give her whatever she wanted. “I’ll take care of you, baby. Always. And you’ll tell me how you feel.” If she just wanted him to hold her, cherish her, be close to her, he’d do it quite happily. His inner beast might be snarling because of the way Kara was rubbing against him, but Kara’s needs would always come first.
“Right now I want a shower. I want to orgasm. And I want ice cream,” she answered insistently, moving out of his arms, walking toward the door, her hips swaying sensually.
Shit. How was he supposed to not act like a possessive maniac when he was marrying the sexiest pregnant woman on the planet? “I’m up for that.” Literally. His c**k was as hard as granite.
Simon followed in Kara’s wake, catching up to her at the bottom of stairs and wrapping his arms around her from behind. Hands stroking her still-flat belly, he whispered, “I love you. Ask me for anything and I’ll do it. No questions asked, no negative replies.”
She relaxed, letting her body rest against him. “I thought I just did.” Laughing, she entwined his fingers with hers, both of them covering her stomach protectively. “I just…need you. I feel needy as hell. I’m not myself right now. Please try not to take anything I do or say personally. It’s not you. It’s hormones right now. I think they’re eating my brain.”
“Be needy. Be grouchy. I won’t even tell you not to cry.” Well…he’d try not to anyway. Shit, Simon hoped she didn’t cry a lot. He’d be a wreck by the time the baby was born. “Just don’t ask me not to worry, or be protective, or be concerned about your happiness and safety. I can’t do that,” he growled, his fingers clenching hers.
“You won’t be bossy?”
Simon gulped. “No.” Okay…maybe not quite so often.
“Or demanding?”
Uh…he could manage to tone it down, couldn’t he? “Nope.”
“Domineering? Controlling?”
Well, crap. She was hitting him where it hurt. “I’ll try,” he told her sincerely.
Kara burst out laughing, a full belly laugh that he hadn’t heard in over two weeks, a delighted sound that made his heart soar. She laughed so hard she snorted. “I give you twenty-four hours. Those traits are so deeply embedded in your DNA that you’ll never make it more than a day.” She continued to chortle as she went toward their bedroom, making his mouth go dry as she lifted her scrub top over her head, revealing an abundance of smooth, silky skin.
He chuckled, knowing she was probably right. But it wouldn’t keep him from giving it his best. “A week at least,” he called after her in an arrogant tone.
Her laughter rang out louder, stronger, drifting through the hallway and echoing back to him, making him grin ever broader. Damn it. She knew him too well.
Shaking his head, he walked to the kitchen to get his woman her ice cream.
Chapter 4
Maddie Reynolds chewed on her thumbnail, a look of total concentration on her face, as she flipped the pages of a medical file on one of her five-year-old patients at the clinic. It was seven p.m., way past time for her to get home and try to get some rest, but something about the case was nagging at her. She had to be missing something, something important. Timmy was tired, listless, having occasional vomiting and diarrhea, and it had to be more than a virus. The poor tyke had been that way for weeks.
Sighing, she leaned back in the chair of her office in the clinic, grimacing as she bit a little too hard on her fingernail. She’d need to consult with a pediatrician, run more tests. Sending up a silent prayer that Timmy’s mother would show up at her next appointment with her son, Maddie closed the file. The poor kid didn’t have an easy life, and his mother wasn’t exactly consistent.
“Hello, Madeline.”
A husky baritone sounded from the doorway of her office, causing her to leap to her feet, ready to push the alarm button on the side of her desk. The free clinic wasn’t in a good neighborhood and poor Kara had already come close to getting shot here.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
A cold chill ran down Maddie’s spine, but not from fear. She recognized the voice. Eyes narrowing, she focused on the body and face behind that smooth-as-velvet masculine tone and the man standing right in front of her. “How did you get by Simon’s security? And what in the hell are you doing here?”
Sam Hudson shrugged and stepped into the room as though he owned it. Even dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a burgundy cable-knit sweater, the man oozed power and arrogance, carried it on those wide shoulders like an elegant mantle. “They’re my security too, Sunshine. They work for Hudson. Do you think they would do anything other than let me by them with a polite good evening?”
Arrogant bastard. Maddie’s heart raced and her palms grew sweaty. She wiped them over her denim-clad thighs, wishing she hadn’t showered and changed in the tiny shower in the back of clinic before coming into her office. Maybe it would have been easier to face Sam in her professional attire, her hair confined in a conservative knot. Trying to push a flaming corkscrew spiral behind one ear, she stiffened her spine, trying to make herself appear taller than her five-foot-three height. “What do you want, Sam? This is hardly your neighborhood? And I don’t think you need the services of a hooker?” Her voice was hard, brittle. Damn it. Why couldn’t she act nonchalant? So many years had come and gone since that heart-shattering event with Sam. He was a stranger to her now. Why couldn’t she treat him like one?