“What are you doing?” she asks as my fingers slide into her hair.
“Scalp massage. Another Lyall family specialty.” I start at her temples, working in slow circles. “Just close your eyes and breathe.”
She melts against me as I work my way across her head, applying gentle pressure to the spots where tension is gathered. I massage behind her ears, and she makes a sound that’s almost a purr.
“That feels incredible,” she mumbles.
“So do you.” I try to focus on the task and not on how good she feels pressed against me. The heavy warmth of her body. The way her breathing has slowed and deepened. The soft curves I can feel through the thin fabric of her pink pajamas.
My cock stirs, and I silently curse myself. This is not the time. She’s mourning her marriage, and the last thing she needs is me getting hard while I comfort her. But when Julia shifts against me, I have to bite back a groan. She definitely felt that.
“Ian?” she asks, turning her head slightly to look at me.
“You can ignore that,” I scrape out, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I can’t help how my body responds to you. It doesn’t mean I expect anything from you, especially tonight.”
“What if I need you, especially tonight?”
My hands pause in her hair. “What are you saying?”
She twists in my arms so she’s sitting sideways on my lap, cradled in one arm. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes have that glazed look I remember from the night we made the pups.
“The pregnancy hormones have me going crazy,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. She reaches up to stroke my muzzle. “I’ve been so... I don’t know. Wound up. All the time. And now you’re here, and you smell so good, and you’re being so sweet to me, and Richard and I are officially separated...”
She doesn’t have to finish the sentence, because I lean down and kiss her chamomile-and-honey lips, threading my fingers through her hair and pulling her closer. I deepen the kiss until she gasps against my mouth.
Without breaking our kiss, I slide my free hand across her belly, feeling for the hem of her flimsy top. I slip my fingers beneath it, traversing over the swell of our pups inside her before reaching her heavy, sensitive breasts. I cup each in turn, and she arches into my touch.
Her nipples are so tightly beaded, I can feel them scrape across my palm. I want to strip her bare and worship every inch of her. Knowing she wants me, that she’s beencravingme, is making me feel feral.
Instead of tearing off her clothes and taking her in her friends’ makeshift guest room, I cup her face and slow the kiss, savoring the soft slide of her lips against mine. She makes a frustrated noise and tries to speed up again, straddling my lap so she can grind against the bulge in my jeans.
“Easy,” I murmur against her mouth. “We can take it slow.”
“I don’t want easy.” She nips at my lower lip. “I want you.”
“You have me.” I kiss the corner of her mouth, her jaw, the sensitive spot below her ear. “But we’re in your friends’ house. I don’t think you want them to hear you screaming my name.”
She shivers at that, and a fresh wave of her arousal perfumes the air. Gods, she’s so responsive.
“You’re right, we probably shouldn’t. Not here. But could you maybe...” She breaks off, nibbling her lower lip, afraid to ask for what she wants.
“What do you need, pretty girl?”
“Touch me?” Her voice cracks, and she covers it with an embarrassed giggle. “Please. I’ve been aching for you, and I haven’t let myself indulge in those feelings. I haven’t had…um…release.”
The admission makes something possessive flare in my chest. She needs me. I’m the one who can give her what she needs.
“I would love to do that.” I cup her jaw and kiss her again, soft and lingering. “Lie back for me.”
She obeys, sinking into the pillows with her dark hair fanning around her head. I settle beside her, propped on one elbow so I can see her face. My free hand traces down her arm, across her belly whereour pups are growing, and comes to rest on her thigh.
“These pajamas are very cute,” I observe, rubbing the soft fabric between my fingers. “But they’re in my way.”
“Should I take them off?”
“Hm, no. I like the challenge.” I slip my hand under the waistband, feeling the elastic give way as my fingers slide across warm, bare skin until I feel the brush of her soft pubic hair. She’s not wearing underwear. The realization makes my cock throb painfully. “No panties, Julia? Were you expecting this?”
“I was hoping,” she admits breathlessly. “Is that bad?”
