it’s not all I’ve missed. I’ve missed...us.’ She tried to let the sincerity in her voice ring through.
Threading his fingers through hers, he nodded. ‘So have I. And yes, I called the hospital. Hope is doing fine.’
‘Thank God. Maybe this will be a happy Christmas after all.’ She wasn’t above seeking a little reassurance herself.
‘I’m hoping it will.’ Letting her go, he stepped out of the shower, leaving her alone. Just when the worry centres began firing in her head, he came back, a thick white towel in his hands. Another one was wrapped around his waist.
‘I guess this means fun time is over?’
‘Didn’t you say you had a shift this afternoon?’
‘Oh! That’s right.’ How could she have forgotten that? Maybe because when Max was around, she tended to forget everything.
When she went to grab the towel from him, he held it just out of reach. ‘Not so fast. There’s something else I’ve missed.’
With that, he opened the fluffy terry and proceeded to pat her dry, starting with her face and gently moving down her body, until he was kneeling before her, sweeping the towel down her thighs and calves. A familiar tingling began stirring in her midsection. ‘You’d better be careful, or I’m never going to let you out of this room.’
‘I can think of worse things than being kept as your prisoner.’
The towel moved between her legs, teasing more intimate territory.
A low moan came from her throat before she could stop it. ‘That’s so not fair. You didn’t let me touch you.’
His eyes came up to meet hers. ‘You have more control than I do.’
‘Wanna bet?’ She tangled her fingers in his hair, letting the warm moist strands filter between them. ‘I’ve never been able to resist you. I really do need to get to work, though.’
He stood. ‘See? More control. Bend over.’
‘Wh...what?’ The word sputtered out on a half-laugh.
‘Naughty girl. Not for that.’ He grinned, the act taking years off his face. ‘Now bend over.’
She did as he asked, and Max flipped her hair over until the strands hung straight down. Then he wrapped the towel around her head and twisted it, enveloping her wet locks in it. A glimmer of disappointment went through her. Max had it all wrong. She had no control when it came to him. She wanted him. All the time.
And now that things seemed to be easing between them, maybe she’d be able to have him whenever she wanted him. At least that was what she hoped. Surely he felt the same way as she did.
She tightened the towel and then stood upright again, letting the end of it slide down the back of her head. Luckily there was still a hairdryer in the flat. She’d found it when searching through the drawers.
Max opened the shower door for her and let her step out. A wave of steam followed her as he wrapped her in a second towel. ‘Good thing we don’t have an alarm that is triggered by heat.’
‘Yes, that’s a very good thing.’ He encircled her waist and pulled her back against him. ‘I can think of several times during the night when we might have set it off, if so.’
‘I can think of several times that you went off too.’
He dropped a kiss on her hair, and she felt something stir against her backside. He gave a strangled laugh. ‘Maybe we’d better not talk about that right now.’
Maybe they shouldn’t. Because the tingling that had started when he’d towel-dried her was getting stronger. ‘Okay, let me get dressed and dry my hair, and I’ll be ready.’
He tipped up her head and gave her a soft kiss. ‘Okay, but it’s under duress.’ Letting her go, he dragged his hands through his own wet hair, which settled right into place.
‘That is so not fair. You don’t have to do anything to look great.’
‘Neither do you.’ He tapped her nose with his finger. ‘You are perfect just as you are.’
‘I don’t know about that, but I do feel perfectly satisfied.’ She went over and opened a drawer, finding the hairdryer she’d discovered earlier. She picked it up, laughing as a thought hit her. ‘After all those contortions we did years ago, wouldn’t it be funny if last night or this morning did what all the hormone treatments couldn’t? So...do you want a boy or a girl?’
It was only when she picked up her hairbrush that she realised Max wasn’t laughing. He had gone very still.
He slipped his watch around his wrist, before looking up. His eyes were completely blank, although a muscle ticked in his jaw. ‘A boy or a girl?’
A sliver of alarm went through her at the slow words. Where was the man who had just made love to her as if he couldn’t get enough?
She forced a smile to her face. One she didn’t feel. ‘It’s just that it would be ironic, if I got pregnant when we weren’t even trying.’
Actually, it wouldn’t be funny. Or ironic. Or anything else. Why had she even said that?
Max turned and went into the bedroom. With a panicked sense of déjà vu, Annabelle followed him, finding the bed was perfectly made. So perfectly that if she hadn’t remembered writhing like a maniac beneath those sheets, she might have thought it was all a dream.
Only that exquisite bit of soreness in all the right places said it had been very real.
Except there was that weird vibe she’d picked up after joking about getting pregnant. He hadn’t looked or sounded like someone who would be thrilled about that happening. Maybe she should put his mind at ease. She moved closer.
‘Hey, are you afraid I might get pregnant because of what we did?’
His pupils darkened, expanding until they seemed to take up his entire iris. ‘I think the more appropriate question would be: are you afraid you won’t get pregnant?’
She blinked. ‘No, of course not. I was joking.’
‘Were you? Because right now, I don’t feel like laughing.’
Neither did she. She had no idea why the pregnancy thing had crossed her mind. Maybe because it had been so long since they’d had sex that was totally spontaneous.
Nothing like bringing up a whole slew of bad memories, though.
He turned away and picked up his overnight bag, setting it on the bed.
Annabelle caught at his arm, forcing him to face her again. ‘Look, I’m sorry. Obviously it’s still a touchy subject.’
‘Touchy would be an understatement.’ The thin line of his mouth was a warning she remembered from days past. ‘Is this why you were so eager to get back to the flat last night—were you trying to hit a certain magic window? If so, you’ve got the wrong man.’
