Page 53 of Bound by Their Christmas Baby

‘This won’t take long.’

‘What is it?’ He came around to the opposite side of the desk and propped his hips against it. He saw the way her eyes darted to his haunches and the way his trousers had strained across the muscles there, and something like relief filled him.

She wanted him.

And she always would. In bed, she wasn’t cold—ever. She begged for him and dragged her nails down his back and nipped at his flesh; in bed she was a fever in his blood, because that same fever raged in her blood.

It wasn’t nice. It was so much better.

‘I know Raf is only little, but this will be his first Christmas and I want it to be special. He won’t remember it, I know,’ she rushed on, countering her sentimentality before he could. That she knew him so well worried him.

‘But he’ll have photos—we can have photos, I mean, get them framed and put them in his room. You want him to have a family—’ now she forced her eyes to his and he felt their defiance ‘—and I do too. I want him to know we’ve been a family since he was born.’

He nodded thoughtfully.

He’d been doing that a lot lately.

Thinking.

Thinking about Abby and the things she’d said. She was like a fever in his blood and he resented her for that, even while knowing it was hardly her fault. He simply had to try harder to regain control of the situation.

‘Anyway—’ she was awkward ‘—I wondered if I could somehow get to Fiamatina today, or tomorrow, to buy him a little gift.’ Colour filled her cheeks, two dots of pink on either side of her lips. ‘I don’t mean anything grand, just a book or a little toy. He doesn’t need much, obviously. It’s more about giving him something we can keep for him.’

Gabe was struck by this—more so by the fact it hadn’t even occurred to him, despite the way she’d turned his house into Santa’s Grotto,

that Christmas might mean something to Abby. That, unlike his terrible memories of this time of year, she might actually want to mark the day in a manner that was different to any other.

‘Fiamatina.’ He jerked his head. ‘I’ll take you.’ And if he had any luck he’d find the perfect present for her. She should have something to open, seeing as the day meant so much to her.

‘Oh!’ Her surprise was obvious, so too her dismissal. ‘You don’t have to take me. You’re busy. I can drive.’

He laughed, a grim rejection of that idea. ‘Do you have any experience of driving on snow or ice, Abigail?’

Her eyes met his, annoyance brimming in their depths. At least that was better than coldness. ‘No, but I’ll be careful.’

‘You must be mad if you think I would let you risk your life like that.’

‘You must be mad if you think I’d ever do anything dangerous, that I wasn’t capable of. I’ll be fine.’

‘I intend to make sure of it.’ He put a hand at the crook of her elbow. ‘Are you ready?’

‘Have I told you how bossy you are?’

‘I think so.’

She glared at him. ‘You’re busy and I have to learn to drive here at some point—’

‘Perhaps. But not today.’

She fired him a fulminating glare and he ignored the jolt of pleasure in his gut. The relief of seeing her emotional response. He’d take her anger over ice-coldness any day of the week.

He liked her being emotional; he liked knowing he’d caused that. He was addicted to it.

With a throaty sound of need, he curved his hand from her elbow to her back, pulling her to him, and when her eyes flew wide in surprise and her lips parted on a gasp he kissed her, pushing her back against the door to his office, his body holding hers.

She was his in an instant, her hands lifting to link behind his head, her hips moving, swaying in time to their kiss and the sensual fog that always pursued them.

She was wearing a dress, thank God, as opposed to her usual jeans, and he lifted it desperately, finding the sweet curve of her bottom, cupping it in his hands and lifting her so that her legs wrapped around his waist and his arousal pressed hard to her, hungry for her as always.

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