Page 120 of Gift-Wrapped in a Kilt

"With you, yeah, of course." His hold on her hips slackened, though his hands stayed in position. "You really want to start trying tonight?"

"If you do, I do." She placed her hands over his on her hips. "It's become a MacTaggart tradition, men getting their women up the duff before the wedding."

He laughed, the sound resonating in his chest. "I'm assuming 'up the duff' means pregnant."

"It does."

"Guess we shouldn't break the tradition, eh?"

She loved that naughty tone in his voice. She loved the feel of him inside her, the weight of his hands on her hips, the sensation of all that muscle beneath her and the thought of what that body could do to her. She lovedhim.

Keeping her hands over his, she began to move, rocking slowly, rising up and gliding back down his shaft, over and over in a sweetly erotic rhythm. He groaned and grasped her hips a little tighter, binding her to him while he bent his knees enough to get leverage and rock up every time she slid back down, melding their bodies in the most intimate and satisfying way. She let her head fall back, her hair cascading behind her and teasing her skin with feathery brushes. Her sensitized skin heightened every tiny sensation, from the caress of her own hair on her back and shoulders to the heat and firmness of his shaft and the flexing of his muscles as he met her movements with his own.

No more fear. No more barriers between them. This moment, this act, it united them completely in body and heart and soul.

"Oh Gavin," she moaned, eyes half closed, lost in the bliss of their joining, "we're making a baby tonight. I can feel it."

"Me too." He slung his arms around her and surged up to kneel on the plaid. Sitting back on his heels with her balanced on his lap, he rumbled, "Hook your legs around me, baby."

She locked her ankles behind his ass. With his hands on her back anchoring her, she leaned back farther, and together they moved. He thrust deeper, pulling her toward him. She moaned louder and flung her arms around his neck, her hands linked at his nape, her body still angled away from him. Her breasts bounced as he plunged in harder, faster, yanking her hips into him with each thrust. She lunged forward to cling to him, her arms tight around his neck, her breaths blustering against his ear. The pleasure escalated inside her like a spring coiling tighter and tighter, exerting a pressure that promised to blast her apart in the most incredible way.

He growled near her ear, his pace accelerating, plowing into her with unbelievable power and control. "Come for me, baby. Come for me now."

Those words, spoken in a voice roughened by passion, broke the coil. Her climax exploded through her, hot and strong and overwhelming in the ecstasy it unleashed. She clenched him so tightly with her legs and her arms, with her whole body, that he gasped into her ear.

She threw her head back and let the pleasure erupt from her in wild cries.

Gavin rolled forward, pinning her to the plaid on her back, and punched into her with reckless need again and again. His release jetted into her deepest places, hot and powerful, branding her with the essence of him. He thrust once more, his cock pulsing deep within her. Spent, he rolled off her body to lie alongside her on the tartan kilt. They both breathed hard, struggling to regain their equilibrium after the world-tilting experience they'd shared. Sex had never been like this before, not even with him.

He spread a hand on her lower belly, his fingers over her womb. "I hope we did make a baby tonight. It seems right that we should. A baby would be the best Christmas present ever."

"Our bairn won't be born on Christmas. Pregnancy lasts nine months, not twelve."

"But we'll know we made a baby on this night." He kissed her tummy and rested his chin above her navel. "I got everything I want for Christmas. What about you?"

The hint of anxiety in his expression made her chest ache — in a good way. She loved knowing he cared so much about her happiness as much as she cared about his.

She threaded her fingers through his hair. "This is everything I wanted too."

He pulled the tartan over her like a blanket. "Gotta keep the mother of my child warm and safe."

Movement outside the window drew her attention, and she studied the big snowflakes swirling beyond the glass. Christmas. Snow. Gavin. A baby. What more could she want?

Nothing, she mused with a soft smile. Nothing at all.

"What's that smile for?" Gavin asked, cuddling closer, enclosing her with his body.

"Mm, I was thinking…" She ran a hand up and down his bicep. "If you want to keep me warm and make sure we made a baby, you'd better do that again. Maybe twice more. Just to be sure."

"Anything for my girl."

Epilogue

Iain

February 15

The door to Rory's office hung open, an invitation to enter. I paused on the threshold to take in the sight before me, the sight of my formerly uptight cousin's office in disarray. Cardboard boxes squatted on the floor in stacks, some taped shut, others open and awaiting more items. Rory hunched behind the large desk fiddling with a dispenser for packaging tape. A strip of the clear tape had gotten stuck on his shirt sleeve, and he yanked it off but fought to keep the stuff from clinging to his fingers.

---