Prognosis Christmas Baby - Amy Andrews Page 0,15

breathless. She squirmed. ‘Nash.’

His gaze trekked back to her face. She was flushed and had pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. ‘God, Maggie, you’re gorgeous.’

The awe in his voice was a huge turn-on and Maggie could feel her nipples hardening beneath his frank gaze. ‘I think one of us has too many clothes on,’ she murmured.

‘You’re right.’ He reached down, ran his finger under the edge of her lace knickers and tugged.

‘Not quite what I had in mind.’ Maggie rolled her eyes but lifted her hips.

Nash grinned as he tossed the article on the floor behind him. ‘Perfect,’ he whispered.

Maggie was on fire. His eyes roamed over her nakedness like it was his own private playground and again she was struck by the urge to arch her back. Her blood thickened, simmered, boiled. ‘Your turn.’

He reached for his jeans then, unzipping and stepping out and Maggie was speechless as he stood before her clad only in his underwear. Like a marble statue overlayed with the flesh and blood of a warm, vital man. Washboard abs - well defined and gloriously bronzed. His broad shoulders and chest even more impressive from her reclining position.

‘God, you have a magnificent chest.’

He chuckled. ‘You’ve got a pretty nice one, too.’

A trail of blond hair bisected his abdominal musculature, wisping down behind the band of his underwear, and her fingers itched to follow it.

Maggie vaulted upright, their gazes locked. She raised a hand and placed it flat against his stomach, feeling his muscles tense beneath her palm. Letting her hand slide, it lowered to his waistband.

‘These now,’ she requested huskily.

Her gaze zeroed in on the erection his underpants were barely restraining, and Nash felt a punch to his gut as she moistened her lips. He watched as she lifted a tentative finger and traced the thick ridge.

‘Maggie.’ His warning was half whisper, half groan.

She glanced up, dragging her gaze from the bulge in his pants, removing her hand. ‘You’re magnificent everywhere.’

Nash was mesmerised by the desire in her eyes, by the way she looked at him like he was the only man on earth. He lifted his hand to her cheek and stroked it, his fingers pushing into her hair, brushing at her fringe, cupping the back of her head.

Her lips shone in the semi-dark and he wanted some of them. ‘Lie back, Maggie,’ he whispered.

Maggie fell back as he asked and she watched as he stepped out of his underwear and she was finally able to see him in all his glory. She exhaled a ragged breath at his proud length, ready, eager before him. He put a knee on the bed beside hers and she held her arms out to him, exulting in the knowledge that all that hardness would soon be inside her.

Nash lay on his side, propped on his elbow, looking down at her. Their gazes locked and he traced the planes of her face with his index finger. Over her eyelids, across her cheekbones and the moist seam of her lips. He continued lower, holding her gaze as his finger traced down her throat, dipping into the hollow, down her chest, over her stomach to her belly button. Then he reversed the process.

‘Nash,’ she whimpered against his finger as it trailed across her mouth.

He pushed his finger gently against her mouth to still her protest, pausing to study her lips. He rubbed his thumb over the bottom one and then the top, smearing the moisture all over.

‘Nash.’ Maggie was trembling with want, his intense gaze zeroed on her mouth incredibly erotic.

‘Shh,’ he whispered, mesmerised by their movement, by how they looked all swollen and moist from his ministrations. He just had to taste them.

When Nash finally lowered his head it was for an agonisingly slow exploration of her mouth. Maggie tried to deepen it, to open beneath him and draw his tongue inside but he pulled back and smiled at her. ‘Patience, Maggie. We’ve got all night.’

She shivered at the promise in his voice, in his eyes, accepting the teasing stroke of his lips against her again with an eagerness that bordered on shameless. The kiss slowly deepened and Maggie moaned as his tongue finally touched hers.

His hand spread its own joy, lightly stroking down her neck and her chest to her breasts. Her nipples beaded at the light play of his palms over them and she arched her back and moaned into his mouth as he rubbed them into unbearably tight pebbles.

Nash dragged his mouth from the drugging