New Year Escapes. Leslie Kelly

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to concentrate on work, trying not to focus on the woman sleeping down the hall. But it was a useless endeavor. His desire for Alison was slowly taking him over; an almost primitive need that seemed bone deep, as though it was in him, inseparable from him now.

      He was almost ready to give up on his attempt at productivity when his mobile phone rang. It was his personal physician calling with the test results.

      The call took only a minute, and in that minute his life was changed.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      MAXIMO opened the door to Alison’s bedroom without knocking. She was asleep and her beauty stole his breath, made him feel weak with desire, like a starving man in desperate need of nourishment. Even with all of the turmoil inside of him, he still wanted her.

      “Alison.” He sat down on the bed and took her hand in his. “Alison.” He moved his other hand over her face, brushed her hair back. She stirred beneath his touch, her body arching, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

      His body hardened instantly, his stomach tightening. “Wake up, Alison.”

      She rubbed her hand over her eyes and rolled to the side, her coppery eyes cloudy with sleep, her hair tousled. And he had never seen a more beautiful woman. She was so beautiful it made him ache.

      “Max?” his name on her lips, her voice thick with sleep, was the single most arousing thing he’d ever heard in his life.

      “The doctor called.”

      She sat up quickly, pushing her hair back. “What did she say?” The film of tears in her eyes made his heart feel too large for his chest.

      “I’m not a carrier. There isn’t a chance our baby will have Cystic Fibrosis.”

      A short cry escaped her lips and she threw her arms around his neck, sobs shaking her frame. He held her close and let her release all of her emotion, let her do it for both of them. He held her until his neck was wet with her tears.

      “I was so afraid,” she whispered, her lips brushing his jaw. “I thought … I didn’t want to watch our child die, Max.”

      “You won’t have to.”

      “My sister was so young when it took her. It was horrible. It killed me to see it happen to her, to watch her just get weaker. I couldn’t have gone through it with our baby.”

      His heart burned for her, her pain so real, so much a part of him, that he felt it all the way in his bones. “I didn’t know you’d been through that.”

      “That was why …” She took a gulp of air. “That was why it was so important to me to know. I needed to prepare myself. I couldn’t just be blindsided with something like that. I don’t know if there would ever have been a way to be really prepared for it … but knowing now. Oh, it’s such a relief.”

      She pulled back and started to wipe the moisture from her tearstained face. Her nose was red, her eyes swollen, and still he wanted her so much it was physically painful to hold himself back. Seeing the intensity of her love for their child only increased his desire for her.

      He cupped the back of her head, stroking his thumb over her silky, strawberry locks. “No matter what, we would have made it. There’s no way we could love our baby more or less than we do. But I’m very glad that we don’t have to worry about that.”

      “Me, too.”

      Her arms were still linked around his neck and she very slowly moved her hands so that her fingers were twined through his hair. She moved them slowly, sliding them through, her touch sending shock waves of hot pleasure rippling through him. It was such a simple touch. In general he would have said there wasn’t anything erotic about it. Except in this moment, with this woman, it was the single most erotic sensation he could ever remember feeling.

      She leaned in slightly, her eyelids lowering, her lashes fanning over her cheeks. Her mouth was so close to his that one slight movement would join them together. But he wanted her to do it. Wanted her to make the move.

      “Max, I don’t really know what I’m doing here, but I don’t know if I can stop myself, either,” she whispered, her breath hot and sweet against his lips.

      Then she closed the distance between them, settling her lips over his, her kiss tentative, almost shy. It was strange because there was nothing insecure or shy about Alison, and yet she kissed almost as if she was an innocent. Not that he could claim personal experience in that area.

      When the tip of her tongue touched his lower lip his control snapped completely. He growled, deepening the kiss, sliding his tongue against hers. She parted her lips for him, granting him access, her feminine moan of pleasure tightening his gut, increasing his arousal.

      He slowly pressed her down on the bed. She arched her back, rubbing her breasts against his chest. They had too many clothes on. He needed her naked. He needed to be naked. To be able to slide inside of her, and finally purge himself of the almost surreal level of desire he felt for her.

      He moved his hands over her curves, cupped her breasts, teased the hardened points of her nipples. He could come just touching her, even through her clothes. Never, not even when he’d been a teenage virgin, had a woman ever tested his self-control like this.

      “Wait,” she said, rolling away from him, her eyes wide. “I don’t … I can’t …” Her breathing was ragged, her lips swollen. “I can’t.”

      “Why is it that you can’t all of a sudden? You want this—I know you do.”

      “I don’t,” she said, her breathing ragged. “I’m sorry. We … it would be better if we were just friends. What would happen if this—” she gestured to the air between them “—didn’t work out? Then we would be bitter divorcés shuttling our child back and forth and sharing holidays. But if we just keep it platonic then things would be simpler. It’s the smartest thing to do.”

      “I have no trouble keeping my commitments. When I speak my vows to you I will mean them. If you see divorce in our future it will not be me that’s instigated it.”

      Alison forked her shaking fingers in her hair. “Well, I have no intention of divorcing you, but when you introduce sex into a relationship it complicates things.”

      Maximo stood up from the bed, not bothering to hide the thick length of his erection that was pressing against the front of his slacks. “Things are already complicated by the attraction between us. Sex would only alleviate some of the tension.”

      He turned and walked out of the room. Alison cursed out loud to the empty room. Why had she done that? Why had she kissed him like a sex-starved maniac?

      And why did you stop him? That was the question her body was asking. She was so hot for him, wet for him, needy for him. His kiss had totally stolen every ounce of her control. She’d been ready to let him do anything he wanted with her, to her. She’d craved the loss of control, the descent into blissful oblivion at his hands.

      And in the end that was what had jarred her back to reality. The feelings inside of her had gone so far beyond just a simple case of lust. And she couldn’t deal with that. She just couldn’t.

      She

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