Sunday 1stDecember
“Where’s my breakfast?”
The backdoor slammed.
Bluey whimpered at not being allowed inside the house.
Zoe took a bite of her strawberry jam on toast when Max walked in. He had thick, blue woolen socks on his feet, wearing dusty blue work pants, and a checked shirt, undone at the top revealing his chest. He’d been out to do the morning jobs on his farm, Greenfields. His comment grated on her feminist beliefs, but that faded with the cheeky grin he gave her, which lightened up his dark eyes with a smoldering heat that sent sparks firing between her legs.
Will I ever get used to his inappropriate comments?
With a bun in the oven, she felt like she had to. Or at least give it a try. She was heading toward three months pregnant, after they had a hot one-night stand at the Royal Adelaide Show back at the start of spring. Max was the father and it had messed up her plans.
At twenty-five she had been wholly focussed on building her career as a legal secretary, not trying to work out if she was going to breastfeed or bottle-feed or if she could change a nappy. Let alone be able to adjust to life on a cattle farm—one where the closest neighbor was about five miles away—with a babe in arms. Her belly fluttered, and it wasn’t the baby turning, the nerves were getting worse, and it was becoming harder to ignore them.
If only Mom and Dad would come and visit for Christmas, or her friends, Ellie and Billie.
“You weren’t here, so I threw it in the bin.” She looked at him coolly, trying to keep the humor from her facial expression, her comment firing straight back at his without missing a beat. She could match him, she knew it, and she used it to her full advantage. Well, at least she tried.
Max was thirty-four, and the age difference had never been an issue between them. At least it was one thing that Zoe knew wouldn’t be the cause of them not working out. It was early days yet. They had known each other as long as the baby had grown inside of her. It wasn’t long enough to have packed up her life in Adelaide to move in with a man she didn’t know. But for the sake of the baby she had. Of course, there was an attraction there too, and somehow the fiery relationship they had appealed to them both.
He held his hand to his heart. “You hurt me deep.”
“As if.”
“Now, now, don’t be like that on a lazy summer Sunday morning. Especially when Christmas is in twenty-five days.” He raised his eyebrow suggestively as he walked toward her. “I’ll just let you know that I’m hoping for a special gift from you when I wake up Christmas morning.”
Zoe squirmed in her seat as she felt her lower abdominal muscles clench with need. “Well, now that will depend if you’re naughty or nice.”
“Good thing I know exactly how to balance naughty and nice for your full pleasure.” Max stood next to Zoe, leaning against the 1960s-style kitchen table with chrome legs and edging which gave it an odd space-age look.
A bolt of desire coursed through her body. She could feel his heat radiating around her and she knew exactly what his intentions were. His masculine scent sent her mind wild with anticipation. Inhaling slowly, she met his gaze, his dark eyes burned with lust.
Fuck.She found it hard to resist him. It didn’t help that sparks flew between them so easily, which resulted in her getting pregnant in the first place. The connection between them was built on lust, attraction, and sex, which caused them to lose themselves in the moment of passion. She was also all too well aware that these points were not at all the solid foundation for a future relationship, and yet here they were attempting just that.
Damn hormones. She couldn’t resist him even if she wanted to. This fact was made a hundred times harder with her raging hormones, much to Max’s amusement and delight.
Zoe leaned back in her chair. She felt a little guilty only having gotten out of bed not that long ago, when Max had been up early working on the farm. Pregnant or not, she wanted to pull her weight and do her share of the workload. At least, while she still could. Give it a few months, when she would be waddling around with a huge pregnant belly, that might be different. Now, it was a tight little bump, and it wasn’t getting in the way of anything.
“Do you now?” Zoe raised her bare leg and put her foot suggestively on the edge of the table. She wore her pajamas—floral cotton shorts with a tight pink tank top—they were one of her favorites from the designer Peter Alexander.
He smirked. Ran his finger down the side of her bare leg which was up on the table next to him.
She inhaled sharply.Fuck, yes, he did.She enjoyed the way her skin prickled under his touch as his hand moved up her thigh, coming closer to where she really wanted him to touch her, that place where he could get her juices flowing.
“Though, if you’re not up for it,” he said softly, his hand pausing on her thigh.
Her desires flamed almost out of control. “What on earth gave you that impression?”
Max chuckled. “You’re in your pajamas after all, and it’s nearly nine.”
“It’s Sunday morning,” she reminded him. “You’re meant to stay in bed for this to happen.”
“I better make up for it now.”
A shiver of pleasure ran through her—she quite liked the sound of that.
Max leaned forward and kissed her. His lips pushing hers open as if eager to taste her fully. He glided his hand under her shorts, fingers brushing high under her thigh.
