Page 17 of Prognosis Christmas Baby

Blood roared in her ears as his eyes explored every inch of her. ‘And those,’ he said, his voice rough as he pointed at her jeans.

Nash watched as Maggie unzipped, peeled the denim down her legs and stepped out of their confines. A scrap of matching purple lace underwear hid the last piece of her from him and he reached out to her hip. ‘You’re even more beautiful than I imagined, Maggie May, and I’ve been imagining this...a lot.’

The heat in Maggie’s cheeks intensified. Beneath his gaze she felt beautiful. Not ten years his senior. Not some kind of Mrs Robinson or an infertile divorcee - somehow less of a woman.

She felt his equal, his partner. And all woman.

Closing the distance between them, her nipples tightened as they grazed against the light smattering of blond chest hairs. She rose on her tippy-toes, twined her fingers in his hair and pulled his head down so their lips met.

His mouth was hot against hers, sliding fire across her lips and into her mouth and beyond to her stomach, her breasts, her belly.

Her soul.

She opened for him, wanting more, welcoming the heat with more of her own. Fighting fire with fire.

His tongue tangoed with hers and she dug her nails into his shoulders, pushing closer, whimpering her need. His big hands smoothed over her back, drawing circles over her shoulder blades and ribcage, trailing fire there too as he anchored her to him. She could feel his arousal pressed into her stomach and she pushed against the hard length, aching to touch, aching for him to be inside her.

Her hand went to his belt and Nash groaned. ‘Hold on,’ he murmured, scooping her up, gathering her into his chest and looking for a place to get horizontal.

‘End of the hallway,’ Maggie murmured, her lips at his ear, her arms clinging to his neck.

Nash didn’t need any more direction, striding down the passageway and pushing the door open with his knee. He crossed to the bed and lowered her until she was stretched out before him.

Then he stood and looked. Just looked. She was beautiful.

Maggie felt her cheeks grow hot as his gaze travelled over her with a thoroughness that left her breathless. She squirmed. ‘Nash.’

His gaze trekked back to her face. She was flushed and had pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. ‘God, Maggie, you’re gorgeous.’

The awe in his voice was a huge turn-on and Maggie could feel her nipples hardening beneath his frank gaze. ‘I think one of us has too many clothes on,’ she murmured.

‘You’re right.’ He reached down, ran his finger under the edge of her lace knickers and tugged.

‘Not quite what I had in mind.’ Maggie rolled her eyes but lifted her hips.

Nash grinned as he tossed the article on the floor behind him. ‘Perfect,’ he whispered.

Maggie was on fire. His eyes roamed over her nakedness like it was his own private playground and again she was struck by the urge to arch her back. Her blood thickened, simmered, boiled. ‘Your turn.’

He reached for his jeans then, unzipping and stepping out and Maggie was speechless as he stood before her clad only in his underwear. Like a marble statue overlayed with the flesh and blood of a warm, vital man. Washboard abs - well defined and gloriously bronzed. His broad shoulders and chest even more impressive from her reclining position.

‘God, you have a magnificent chest.’

He chuckled. ‘You’ve got a pretty nice one, too.’

A trail of blond hair bisected his abdominal musculature, wisping down behind the band of his underwear, and her fingers itched to follow it.

Maggie vaulted upright, their gazes locked. She raised a hand and placed it flat against his stomach, feeling his muscles tense beneath her palm. Letting her hand slide, it lowered to his waistband.

‘These now,’ she requested huskily.

Her gaze zeroed in on the erection his underpants were barely restraining, and Nash felt a punch to his gut as she moistened her lips. He watched as she lifted a tentative finger and traced the thick ridge.

‘Maggie.’ His warning was half whisper, half groan.

She glanced up, dragging her gaze from the bulge in his pants, removing her hand. ‘You’re magnificent everywhere.’

Nash was mesmerised by the desire in her eyes, by the way she looked at him like he was the only man on earth. He lifted his hand to her cheek and stroked it, his fingers pushing into her hair, brushing at her fringe, cupping the back of her head.

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