Chapter 12

Nick is buried to the hilt and eliciting small cries from me as the pleasure rips through me. I’d wanted to feel him inch by inch. I’d wanted to feel all of him. And by God, I do.

He pumps into me as his mouth grazes my neck, which is extended because my head is still back.

His gradual pace between my legs picks up. His strokes are short and vigorous. His cockhead rubs that magical spot within me.

He tenderly bites my skin. Tantalizingly soothes the sting with his tongue. Leaves feathery kisses up to my jaw and then along it. His lips whisk over mine, so faintly, so sexily.

Then he plunges more aggressively into me at the same time his mouth crashes over mine and—

A switch is flipped.

Completely out of the blue.

I fall against the bed, my hair fanning out on a pillow. He sort of falls with me, since his body is melded to mine, and he’s semi-lying on top of me. He’s also still standing at the edge of the bed. This gives him ample leverage to increase the cadence. He fucks me harder, faster.

It all becomes an inky abyss of blistering sensations and shattered breaths as I break our kiss. His hands grip my waist to hold me in place. My hands clutch his shoulders to steady myself.

The frenetic rhythm he sets and the lifting and rolling of my hips to meet his thrusts and the sizzle between us… The incessant need for more that arcs silently, yet undeniably and radiates all around us has us both fighting for that inevitable outcome.

“Oh, my God,” I whisper as my pulse spikes and the intensity mounts. “Like that, Nick… Just like that.”

I want to scream for him not to stop. But I won’t survive much more of this. Not the way he commands my body, pushes me higher and higher, pumps so strongly and masterfully into me.

I’m two seconds away from crying his name at the top of my voice.

I’m not ready to give into the firestorm building, but I can only cling to the vestiges of reality for so long.

And when he thrusts heartily and lets out a guttural groan…

I lose it instantly. Spectacularly.

“Nick!” I cry as the climax rages through me.

And I squeeze him tight. So fucking tight.

“Jesus, Bailey!”

A heartbeat later, he gives a final thrust.

“Oh, fuck, yes!” His muscles tense. Then his body convulses.

His hot seed fills my pussy, searing me, branding me.

It is unlike anything I’ve ever imagined.

And I’m not sure if I’m experiencing the most prolonged orgasm in history, or if he’s just ignited another one, but the sensations remain vibrant as I milk his cock and… I can’t believe how fantastic this is.

I can’t believe we’re going to do this again. And again. Until we get the thumbs-up from Dr. Shaw.

Like… I am literally counting the minutes before Nick is ready to pick up where we’ve just left off.

Dangerous to my heart and psyche? Yes.

Inescapable?

Um… Most definitely.

But there it is.

Whether or not I’ll ever breathe normally again is debatable.

Also, highly inconsequential in my mind.

I could care less if, henceforth, I’m nothing but wisps of air and tingling skin and thrumming insides.

I fully comprehend I have but one notch on my belt when it comes to fooling around with a guy and therefore have a minimal basis of comparison. Hands down, though—and without doubt—there is no comparison.

What Nick has just done to me is the equivalent of incinerating me.

I am limp, boneless, ash.

I can’t move a muscle.

He’s not currently going anywhere either.

In fact, if I’m not mistaken—and I pray I’m not—he’s equally obliterated.

I really have no way to ascertain this, given my novice experience, but he’s having a hell of a time catching his breath. His chest is heaving against mine. His skin is hot—scorching hot. And if I focus really hard, I can discern the difference between my tremors and his.

Plus, the man is pulsating radiantly within me.

So, perhaps I truly can tell how profoundly I affect him.

We’re lost in a moment that drags on and on.

Eventually, he unravels from me and slips away—as a tiny eep of protest escapes me.

He glances over his shoulder, a curious look on his devilishly handsome face.

I don’t know what to say, so I don’t utter a word. Just try to keep myself a little more in check.

Meanwhile, he grabs a pillow and wedges it under my ass, keeping my hips tilted.

“Lie here for fifteen minutes,” he quietly instructs—though I already know that’s optimal for helping us to conceive. “I’ll be right back.”

He ducks into my en suite. Then he returns to scoop up his boxer briefs and step into them. Then he’s out the door.

I feel the void instantly.

Perhaps I felt it when he was still in the room. Technically, at the very moment he’d withdrawn from my body—which is still an active livewire.

Knowing Nick’s seed is inside me is doing wicked things to my nerve endings and my psyche.

However, I do exactly as Dr. Shaw previously told me and try to clear my mind of all thoughts. To bliss out, essentially, so that I create a warm and welcoming environment for Nick’s sperm. No stress, no tension, no conflicts.

Nick has apparently been educated on this procedure, and he comes back mere minutes later with a tray sporting a fancy, gilded tea pot and matching cup, saucer, and spoon, along with a sampler plate from the charcuterie board. He sets the tray on the coffee table, since I obviously can’t enjoy quaff and nosh while in this position.

He turns the sound system on and spa music drifts from the hidden speakers. He lights a few candles, dims the chandelier overhead.

I’m actually wondering if a massage therapist is going to materialize, and I hope that is not the case. I’m naked and flushed, after all.

But, no… It’s just the two of us.

He stands at the foot of the bed, resting a forearm on the flat, squared top of one post. His tone is low and sensuous as he asks, “Are you all right?”

I could melt from his voice alone. Except that I’ve already been reduced to nothingness. So…

One corner of my mouth twitches. The best I can manage.

There is a dreamy sigh swelling in my throat and I’m terrified it’s about to spill forth. Therefore, I keep my mouth shut. However, my new eyelash extensions flutter. And chances are damn good I have a deliriously happy expression on my face.

He carefully, gingerly joins me on the bed, stretching out alongside me. He places a hand over my stomach, which quivers under his warm touch.

He murmurs, “Need a light blanket?”

My head rolls back and forth on the pillow, slowly.

“Okay. We’ll just stay here,” he mutters. “Together.”

Oh. My. God.

Kill me now.

The man has done his part. Now it’s up to me to be the gracious hostess to the very essence of him.

I’m supposed to Zen out and he wants to hang here with me while I do?

He must have a million phone calls to make and emails to send. There is absolutely no reason why he should chill-lax with me after the fact.

Yet I can’t bring myself to send him away.

He has a comforting and stimulating presence. I choose to believe that works in my favor. In our favor, considering this is a joint venture we’re embarking on.

And perhaps that’s why he’s here with me right now. Being a team player, a partner in crime.

I find that soothing. I’m not stranded on my own island. I’m in good company.

Amazing company, actually.

I don’t feel compelled to speak—and it was recommended to me that I don’t attempt to engage in anything mentally taxing. Just find a peaceful zone and linger there.

Of course, my skin is still tingling because Nick is touching me. And my brain really does want to replay the past hour—over and over. But that will only inspire gasps and grins and shivers, and Nick will for sure catch on that I’m fantasizing about him.

As it is, I’m doing everything in my power not to blush over how passionately I responded to him. How I held him so fiercely, with my hands and with my inner muscles. The things I said. The way I cried his name.

We weren’t required or expected to react to each other in such a consuming way.

But we did.

I can neither overlook that nor forget it. Being with Nick—in any capacity—is highly arousing. Sex with him is sensational, yes. And so much more.

I had no idea I would lose it so completely with him, for him. That I would be so enrapt and swept away that I’d honestly wanted to scream from the euphoria swallowing me whole.

At the moment, I’m not supposed to be fixated on any of this, though.

It’s no easy feat, but I will my mind to go blank. Until I hear a ding in the distance that brings me around and I realize the music has soft chimes recorded in it to indicate when my fifteen minutes are up.

Nick is leaning on his elbow and the hand not on my belly is in my hair. His thumb whisks lightly over my forehead and then he drops a kiss there.

He whispers, “Come with me. Eat a little something. Then you can shower and get ready for work.”

I’m disappointed by his statement, I won’t lie.

He’d cleared his schedule for our “rendezvous.” Admittedly, I’d been optimistic that meant we were going to get it on a few times before I was out the door to the restaurant. But then I recall that us having sex too frequently in one day can be defeatist because it might decrease the amount of healthy sperm produced.

I’m guessing Nick had previously plotted in his head how long it might take to get me in the mood, to get me naked, to get me into bed—and maybe for him to get off.

Turns out, we have no issue with regard to any of the aforementioned happening at a rapid rate.

And I suspect we’ll be resuming this very position tonight.

So, without a word, I let him pull me into his arms and carry me to the sitting area. We settle on the sofa, and I drag the chenille throw from the corner to cover myself while he pours my tea.

I sip and tell him, “You really don’t have to stick around for any of this. I promise I won’t get up and use the bathroom before I hear the chimes again.”

He chuckles. “I was thinking no such thing. I like being a part of the entire process, Bailey. Makes me more involved. It also gives me a nice memory for when I explain to my child how they were conceived.”

I snicker. Playfully. “Dear Lord, please do not tell them everything!”

He laughs, more radiantly this time. “I promise the majority of the details will remain private. Between the two of us. But I want to be able to say how tranquil you were—and how beautiful. Actually… Truth be told, Bailey, you’re mesmeric. I wanted to be with you while you were sort of…returning to yourself.”

I feel the hot blush on my cheeks.

Certainly, I must appear awestruck or astounded or even otherworldly as the afterglow envelopes me. I mean, come on… The man has rocked me to the core. I can’t hide that, no matter what.

I sip again and then nibble on cheese and crackers.

The rational side of me says Nick Angelini is conscientious and considerate. Compassionate and kind.

That is why he’s staying with me right now.

The wistful, ridiculously enthusiastic side of me contends he’s here because he’s been moved as well. Like I’ve stirred something within him.

I know he reacted as naturally to me as I did to him when we were having sex. I know he enjoyed it. Enjoyed me.

And so now I am perilously teetering on that ledge again where I want to believe he’s as attracted to me as I am to him.

And that this is not only about conception and a contract.

Without catching myself, I tell him, “I’m looking forward to this evening.”

I know he reads between the lines. I’m not just talking about coming back here, having a late dinner, listening to the waves lap along the shore.

No.

He grasps that I want more—of him.