A Baby on Her Christmas List

by Louisa George

  They bypassed the living area and made it to her bedroom without words, without kissing. He went in first, held open the door and she walked straight in and turned to face him, a question on her face. A dare. A promise. There was space between them. It would only need one step.

  Just one.

  He faltered. For a few moments neither moved as they stared at each other. This was happening. Really happening. The step from friends to...to whatever this was. Lovers might have been doubtful, but the trajectory from restaurant to street to bed was unstoppable. The air in the room seemed to still. One second. Two. With every lingering moment heat spread through his body like a raging fire, threatening to engulf him. If he touched her now there would be no going back.

  This could have been a time to leave. He almost took a sideways step, his hand lingering on the doorhandle, but faltered again.

  As she watched him a slow sexy smile appeared on Georgie’s lips, and if he’d had any flicker of doubt that she didn’t want this it fled right then. And that was when, he supposed, he should have drawn that line, the one they shouldn’t have stepped over. Or where they should have agreed what this meant. But he was too consumed by her, by this need to utter a word.

  In the end he didn’t know who made the first move but suddenly she was in front of him, or he was in front of her and his mouth was hard against hers. This time there was no hesitation, no coy shaking. This was pure need and desire. She tasted of chocolate and vanilla and every flavour in between. Her mouth was wet and hungry and it fired a deeper, hotter want within him. Jaws clashed, tongues danced, teeth grazed. There was nothing sophisticated about the kiss, no gentle sucking or tender caress. It was messy. Dirty. Hungry.

  His lips were on her throat as he dragged her T-shirt up around her neck, ripping it as it snagged on its journey to the floor. Finding what they wanted his hands cupped her beautiful breasts over her bra, then under her bra to the accompaniment of a deep guttural moan. She pressed against him, writhing against his thigh. ‘Liam, oh, my God, I want you now.’

  ‘I want you.’ For a brief moment he acknowledged that this could be the singularly most stupid thing he’d ever done. Then that thought was gone, erased with more of her kisses and the press of her fingertips against the top of his jeans. He sucked in air as she played with his zip. And, no, he did not want to hesitate for a second—but his hand covered hers. ‘You first.’

  Her bra hit the floor and then her shorts, and he was walking her to her bed and laying her down on the flowery duvet he’d seen a hundred times before but never in this light, never at a moment like this. Everything was familiar and yet unfamiliar, like her. His mouth found her dark hard nipple and sucked it in. She was divine, so sexy, her nipples so responsive. She was so responsive as she writhed against him, nails digging into his back until he groaned.

  As his mouth started its journey south, kissing carefully over the undulation of her belly, her hand stopped his and her voice was, for the first time, wary. ‘Is this really stupid?’

  ‘Without a doubt.’

  ‘Yeah, I thought so. Dumb and then some.’ Her mouth was swollen and red. He knew it had been a long time since Georgie had been kissed, and kissed like that—because he had been the last one to do it. God only knew when she’d last had sex but unless he was mistaken he could count the time in years, not months. So this was important. She’d chosen him.

  He relieved her of her panties, hands skimming a belly that was plump and soft. He followed a trail of dark hair down her midline, watching her squirm as he parted her thighs and found her centre. He slipped a finger in, two, and felt her contract. She moaned, ‘Oh, yes.’

  ‘Crazy?’

  ‘Madness.’ She arched against him. ‘But that feels so good.’

  He kissed a slick trail to a nipple and smiled against it as she bucked in pleasure against his hand. Then he found her mouth again, her tongue tangling with his as she unzipped his jeans and took him in her hand. His gut contracted. He was so hard, so hot for her, and, damn, if he didn’t have her soon he was going to explode.

  She rubbed his erection against her sweet spot and he could feel the wet heat of her. Then she pushed him against the mattress and straddled him. ‘I want you inside me, Liam. Now. Please don’t do the whole slow build-up thing. That’s been happening for days, months if we’re honest. I just need to feel you inside me. Otherwise I’m going to just about die.’

  ‘Don’t do that. No. We can’t have that.’ And without any further encouragement he slid deep into her. She was so ready for him, he could feel her orgasm building already, her walls contracting around him as she pulsed with him. She met his rhythm, found his mouth again and he was lost in sensation after sensation of her mouth, her centre, her weight on his thighs. Her scent around him, her heat around him. Deeper. Harder.

  He wanted to slow down time, to hold onto this moment but the luscious heat of her, her sexy, knowing smile made him sink deep into her. ‘Oh, my God, Georgie, you’re going to make me lose it.’

  He fisted her hair and dragged her face to him, kissing her long and hard until he was fighting for breath, until the pace increased, faster and faster. Her eyes closed as he felt her contract around him, her body shaking with the strength of her orgasm. ‘Liam. Liam.’

  Never had his name sounded so sweet, so wanted, so precious. He was lost in her, in her voice, in her heat, grinding against her, hard and fast and deep, until he felt his own climax rising and then crashing on a wave of chaos and kisses.

  * * *

  For a few seconds she was quiet against him, Liam could feel her heart beating a frantic pulse against his chest. Her hair was over his face. She was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, fists still clinging to his shoulders, pinning him against the sheets. He was already hard again, thinking about a few moments’ repose, then maybe a shower—preferably with her in it. It was startling, surprising and felt surreal to be here, with her, doing this.

  So he wasn’t prepared for her words as she bolted upright and her hand went to her belly. ‘Oh, God, Liam. Oh, my God.’

  The baby. For those fleeting moments he’d forgotten, blown away by the sultriness of her ripe body, of being inside her, of losing himself completely in the best sex of his life. He’d wanted Georgie the woman. Not Georgie the mother. Although she came as a package deal, he knew that.

  No, he hadn’t forgotten but blocked out that thought.

  And then things got very murky in his head. ‘What is it? Are you okay? What’s wrong?’

  ‘No, I’m not okay.’ Twisting away from him, she climbed off his thighs, wrapped the top sheet across her front and curled onto the bed in a protective foetal position, her hands in front of her face. ‘Oh, God, best-friend sex. Kill me now.’

  ‘Why the hell would I want to do that?’ The laugh erupting from his throat was part relief, part concern because she was right; in fact, they’d both been right. This was the most half-cocked stupid thing they’d ever done.

  ‘I can’t believe we’ve just done that when I look like this.’ Her cheeks were red and hot. ‘I’ve never cared how I looked to you before. You’ve seen me in all states of soberness and drunken debauchery, when I was sick, when I was glammed up to the nines. You’ve seen me lose my bikini completely in an ill-timed dive into the pool, even caught sight of me in my scaggy weekday bra and pants, and none of it mattered. Ever. But now? Now I’m so embarrassed.’

  He stroked fingers down her spine, tenderness for her goofy display of embarrassment meshing with something else in his heart. This was not meant to happen. He was supposed to be creating a safe place for his child, proving he could be a good father. Making sound choices. It was okay to give in to a little sexual play with someone who had no strings attached—but they had a ten-year history and an uncertain and very shaky-looking future that involved another life. They shouldn’t be playing at all. He was getting in too deep, getting himself into a situation he didn’t know how to get out of. ‘And maybe you’re just a little bit c
razy? Why do you think I care how you look?’

  ‘Because it’s suddenly important. Everything is. I didn’t think it would be, but it matters.’

  ‘I don’t believe this.’ Pulling her hands away from her face, he made sure she was looking right at him. Because, yes, this mattered. She mattered. Whatever else happened now—and already a thousand doubts were stampeding into his head—she had to hear what he was saying. Because she still needed to hear the truth, regardless of what he thought or felt about it. ‘Is it enough for me to say that you’re beautiful?’

  ‘No. Not really. I’m six months pregnant, for goodness’ sake. I’m fat. I’m getting stretch marks. My boobs are huge.’

  ‘Really? I hadn’t noticed.’ He pretended to take a sneaky peek. And then wished that he hadn’t. He could make light of this, but the honest fact was she was beautiful. So beautiful it made his heart ache and he wanted to kiss her again, to make her scream with pleasure. To make her realise just how much she was wanted.

  ‘Well, you’ve been staring at them for long enough.’

  ‘That’s because you are amazing. Beautiful. Fertile. Vibrant.’ He took her hand, gently kissed her knuckles and brought her fist to his cheek. ‘And I don’t care how you look, Georgie. Because, honestly, the wrapping’s not what I was making love to.’

  Honestly? Honestly? His heart banged fiercely as if protesting. What the hell were they doing? She was his friend and by doing this he’d let her down. Period. He was supposed to be the strong one, dammit.

  ‘You know, we should really have stopped before we started.’ Dragging her hand from his grip, she sat up. ‘If that makes sense.’

  ‘Things stopped making sense a while ago.’

  ‘Yes, you can say that again.’ She let out a long sigh but snuggled against him, her hair tickling his nose, baby-soft skin touching his, then closed her eyes. ‘That was good, though. Damned good, Macadoodle-doo.’

  He glanced towards the bedside table and saw a baby name book, a pregnancy book. In the corner of the room there was a bottle steriliser still in its wrapper next to a bundle of baby clothes. On the floor to his left was a magazine open at a page about safety in online dating. She’d gone through the questionnaire and circled a few As, some Cs, a smattering of Bs. Was she thinking about dating again? Before all this she’d have filled in the questionnaire with him and they’d have been in fits of laughter at the results. But this one she’d done on her own. In private.

  Despite the post-coital warm fuzzies he realised with a jolt that he might not be a real and integral part of her new life. She was thinking about a future without him in it. That was what he’d wanted, right? That was why he’d signed the contract in the first place. So she could have her dream life—a partner would be the icing on the cake for her. A husband, two kids and a dog. The family she’d missed out on, growing up in that children’s home she’d hated. Traceable DNA.

  A husband who didn’t keep running away. She deserved that. She deserved the very best.

  And even though he knew all the reasons he shouldn’t be here, he still kept batting them away, trying to find good enough reasons to stay. But he didn’t have many, apart from selfish ones that meant he got the best sex with an amazing woman and then broke both their hearts.

  He edged his arm out from under her neck, lay for a few minutes and watched her. She looked so relaxed, so peaceful, so hot that he couldn’t bear to think of her with another man. But did that mean he had to commit? What if it fell apart? That would be all kinds of messy. A family didn’t need that. He didn’t need that, and she certainly didn’t. From his own bitter experience he knew damned well what damage a broken family could do to a child.

  Better to stay friends for ever than fall apart as lovers.

  Snaking away from her, he sat on the edge of the bed and looked around for his jeans. ‘I guess I’d better get off home.’

  ‘Oh, no. Don’t you dare move, matey.’ Her hands were on his shoulders, gripping them with more force than when he’d taken her over the edge, forcing him to sit back down. She picked up one of the books he’d seen and flicked through it, shoving it under his nose. ‘So, I was thinking Desdemona for a girl. Albert for a boy? What do you think?’

  ‘What? You’re joking.’ Not what he’d choose in a million years. What he would choose he didn’t know. He hadn’t allowed his mind to wander down that route as yet.

  ‘And in the morning we need to go shopping for a breast pump. There’s a new babyware shop opened up on High Street. And I know it’s early but I want to get some Christmas decorations from that pop-up shop in Regents mall.’

  ‘Christmas? Already? It’s September.’

  ‘My first Christmas in my first home. A baby on the way. I want it to be special.’ Her voice was wistful. ‘No harm in starting early, and they’ll sell out of all the good stuff pretty quickly, you’ll see.’

  ‘What was Christmas like at the home?’ He knew she tried to make a huge effort to celebrate it every year and asked everyone she’d ever met to eat around her large wooden table—waifs and strays, everyone’s uncle’s cat...she just didn’t want to be on her own.

  There was a pause as if she didn’t want to go back there. He couldn’t blame her. The bits she’d mentioned about growing up had been a far cry from his early experiences. Until his perfect world had imploded.

  She put on her I’m okay voice. ‘Oh, the social workers and carers tried to make it feel special, but we all knew they just wanted to get our celebrations out of the way so they could finish up and get home to their real families. It was depressing, in truth. This year I’m going to go big. I’m going to get the biggest tree and the most decorations anyone has ever had and cover the place—the tree, the walls, the outside. You know, like on Franklin Road, where every house has decorations and lights? It’ll be like that, a Christmas to remember. And then next year I’m going to give Desdemona—or Albert—every damned thing they want. Because I couldn’t have what I wanted. Ever.’

  He imagined her, stuck in the home, wishing her little heart out and always being disappointed. Life sucked sometimes. For Georgie life had sucked a lot. ‘What did you want, Geo? What did you wish for?’

  ‘Ah, you know, the usual stuff.’

  He propped himself up on his elbow and ran his fingers across her curves, down her shoulder, to the side of her breast, and stopped for a moment as she shivered under his touch. Then continued stroking her hip. ‘No. Really, what did you want?’

  She laughed, shyly. ‘I wanted to start a collection of Beanie Babies—these little stuffed-toy things. Man, they were expensive and all the girls at school had them for birthdays or Christmas. I saved up my allowance every week and eventually bought a second-hand whale. He was my favourite.’

  So he wasn’t the only one here who was expert at dodging a question. ‘No. Really. You’re always telling me to stop hedging—but you’re champion of it too. What did you deep down want?’

  ‘Oh, God. However I say it, it’s going to sound twee and crass but...well, I really wanted to be part of something. And now I am. So I got it in the end.’ She laughed. ‘It only took twenty-eight years.’

  Did she mean him? Did she mean they were now part of something? Or did she mean the baby? Family? His heart started to pound. What had he done? Given her hope that she belonged to him?

  Didn’t she? No. No one did. No one could.

  What the hell had he done? ‘Oh. I see.’

  ‘Anyway, before we go shopping I thought perhaps a big brunch in town first. That’s what we’ll need, right? A good sleep and then some decent food. Or maybe some food now? Are you hungry? Sex makes me hungry.’

  ‘These days everything makes you hungry.’ Okay. He got it that it would be rude and insensitive to split right now. He slumped against the pillow, trying to reconcile his head with his heart, but it seemed they were cursed to be at odds with each other for ever. ‘Whatever you want.’

  ‘Really?’ Her foot dug him in the thigh. ‘Wh
at I want is for you to stay. Talk to me.’

  ‘God knows how you have the energy to talk after mind-blowing sex.’ He ignored her assertion that he stay. For how long? Tonight? Tomorrow? A year? For ever? Reality was blurring dangerously with the ache in his heart.

  One eye opened. ‘It’s not because we’ve just had sex, it’s because we talk, Liam, that’s what you and I do. We talk endlessly and have done for a decade. About everything. Mostly. We’ve never not known what to talk about before. How about we talk about stuff...about your work, my pregnancy, this child, your family, why you don’t contact them ever? What the heck it is that spooks you so much about creating something that everyone else in the world craves. I want to know about you growing up, and I want to know about Lauren.’

  The walls were closing in. It was time for evasive action, because he did not want to go there. At all. ‘You know, suddenly I’m really fascinated about how breast pumps work. Talk me through—’

  ‘No way, José. You don’t get out of stuff that easily.’

  ‘Oh, but I do. By fair means or foul...’ The sheet covered most of her body, but her right foot was sticking out. He took it, leaned forward and slowly sucked her big toe into his mouth. He felt her soften against the mattress and her moan stoked more heat in him. That shower scenario was looking more and more attractive.

  ‘Yeow. Definitely not fair.’ Four vermilion-varnished toes wriggled against his chin. ‘Use that mouth for talking, Macadoodle-doo.’

  ‘Why, when it’s so much better at doing other things?’ His mouth hit her ankle, the back of her knee, her inner thigh, and he licked a wet trail northwards. As she squirmed he gave a wry smile. Any more wriggling was halted by his hands on her thighs. ‘See?’

  ‘But I want to— Oh, yes, that feels good. Just a little to the... Oh, yes.’ Her hands fisted into his hair. ‘Don’t stop now, Liam...’

  ‘I have no intention of stopping.’

  ‘We...can...talk...later...’

  Like never. ‘Hush. Relax. Enjoy.’