Page 8 of Embrace Me

Her smile was wide. “Well, that’s very interesting.”

“Oh, no,” he said. “You have to make a speech tonight, and you need to rest.”

“The funny thing about pregnancy hormones is that I may be tired but I also desperately want my husband.” She slid into his arms as if in proof of the concept. And when her hands slipped between them to cup him, he knew she wasn’t just teasing. He pulled her close and kissed her gently.

“You’re being naughty, Mrs. Stark.”

“Only because you like it that way.”

He grinned. His wife did know him well. He also knew he had to take care of her and the baby. And that she had an exhausting evening ahead of her. “Come on,” he said.

“Home?”

“A photograph,” he said, turning her so that he would get the hills and the ocean in the shot. “And as soon as we get the perfect image, I’m taking you home and putting you to bed.”

Chapter Four

I’d been exhausted on the beach, but now that we’re back in the house, I can’t seem to drift off. That’s the thing about hormones—they’ve made me completely wonky, and whatever sleep fairy had been tempting me has completely left the building.

“Oh, no,” Damien says, as I start to sit up. “After almost nine months, I know that’s a bad idea. You don’t want to be dead on your feet at the foundation tonight. Sleep, wife of mine.”

I fall back against the pillows, the light down comforter at my waist. I’d changed into a loose, pullover maternity dress as soon as we got home, and I’m still wearing it now, the soft cotton soothing against my skin.

Damien’s sitting on the edge of the bed, smiling down at me.

“I’m not much of a napper,” I say.

“I know.”

“But during pregnancy? All bets are off.”

He chuckles. “I know that, too.”

I reach for his hand. “But right now—I don’t know if I’m nervous about tonight or if the walk just got my blood flowing, but sleep isn’t coming.”

“Let’s see what we can do about that,” he says.

I narrow my eyes. “We?”

“All the way.”

“What?” I have no idea what he means.

“Roll over and close your eyes all the way.”

“Oh.” I lick my lips, wondering what he has in store for me, but I comply and shut my eyes as I roll to my side, the way I’ve been sleeping for the last few months.

At first, I feel nothing other than his breath against back of my neck and the brush of his pants against my bare legs. Then his fingertips graze my neck as he brushes my hair to the side. Those fingers move to my arm, lightly stroking my skin, as his lips dance over the back of my neck, sending delicious sparks tingling all the way down my spine.

“Damien…”

“Shhh.” He doesn’t miss a beat as his hand moves from my arm to my hip, then slowly starts to hitch up my skirt. I draw in a breath, making a soft, needy voice in my throat. I’m not wearing panties—they’re so constricting and I wanted to be comfortable—and now I’m not sure if I should curse or applaud that decision, because Damien’s fingers are now stroking my leg, just above my knee, and the man himself is inching lower and lower in the bed.

I start to open my eyes, but stop when I hear his quick tsk. Instead, I bite my lower lip, then draw in another breath when I feel the bed move as he sits up, one hand on my knee that’s pressed to the mattress, the other on my hip.

“Roll over, baby,” he urges, even as he’s gently helping me do exactly that. I’ve been careful to sleep on my side because I’ve heard it’s better for the baby, and now I make a soft noise of protest as I look at him. He must understand, because he whispers. “It’s okay, baby. This won’t take long.”

There’s a fire in his voice. A promise that shoots through me, and I sigh as he pushes my dress up, then runs his hands lightly over my belly. I close my eyes, both aroused and soothed by his touch, all the more so when he gently spreads my legs and slides up so that his hands are on either side of me and his lips are brushing the tight skin of my belly.