Beach Bar Baby

by Heidi Rice

  The stupid tingles raced across her skin.

  Do not hold that thought. You need to keep a clear head.

  She crossed to the door, still clinging onto his arm, but stopped in her tracks when he didn’t move with her.

  She swung back, ready to beg. ‘Please, my flat’s just round the corner. I have coffee. And cupcakes.’

  Her gaze flicked over his shoulder to Ruby, who had crossed her arms over her chest and was staring at her, the concern on her face making Ella feel small and foolish.

  ‘Cupcakes, huh?’ He laughed, but then his hands cupped her elbows, forcing her to relinquish her death grip on his arm. ‘I’m a sucker for cupcakes,’ he purred, then yanked her onto tiptoes. ‘But first things first.’ He dipped his head, bringing his lips tantalisingly close. ‘Don’t I rate a “welcome to London” kiss?’

  Before she had a chance to confirm or deny, his mouth settled over hers, and every thought bar one melted out of her head.

  Yes, please.

  His tongue coaxed her lips open in hungry strokes, then tangled with hers. The shaking in her legs shot off the Richter Scale but his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her steady against the lean, hard line of his body. His scent enveloped her, clogging her lungs as she clung to him for balance, and drank in the glorious urgency of his kiss.

  As they broke apart she heard the smattering of applause from the group of mums in the corner. The heat rose up to scald her scalp—but he was smiling at her with that appreciative, sexy twist of his lips she remembered so well from Bermuda and she swallowed down the renewed bolt of panic.

  She had so much to tell him, and she still had no real clue how he would respond. But kissing him again, having his arms around her, had felt so good, she refused to allow her doubts to resurface. She was having this beautiful man’s baby—and it felt like fate somehow that he had come to London to see her.

  He dropped his arms and slid one warm palm into hers. ‘Let’s get out of here.’ He brushed his lips across her ear lobe. ‘I’m dying to taste your cupcakes.’

  She grinned, sure her cupcakes weren’t the only thing he planned to taste. ‘You’re going to love them.’

  She waved goodbye to Ruby, who sent her a wary smile back, then mouthed, ‘Tell him.’

  She nodded, sobering a little.

  ‘Great to meet you, Ruby. I’ll bring her back in one piece. I swear.’ He sent Ruby a farewell salute as he opened the café door for her and she stepped outside. The sky was dark and overcast, a summer storm brewing, but excitement rippled.

  Against all the odds, Cooper Delaney was here. And she would get the chance to tell him her news face to face. Now the initial shock had faded, she knew it was the best possible scenario. She could prepare him properly, before she told him. Explain exactly how it had happened and how much it meant to her, and make sure he understood he didn’t have to be a part of the life growing inside her if he didn’t want to be. That he had no obligations.

  But surely him turning up here had to be a sign. Of something good. He’d come all this way to see her, and he’d kissed her with such fervour. The chemistry between them was still so strong, so hot. And there had been definite affection in his gaze too, the way his hands had steadied her, held her close.

  He hadn’t forgotten her, any more than she had forgotten him.

  He slung an arm across her shoulders. ‘Lead the way, my little cougar. But put a fire under it,’ he said, casting a wary glance at the ominous thunderclouds overhead. ‘It looks like we’re about to get soaked.’

  She chuckled, giddy with anticipation and tenderness, as a fat drop of rain landed on her cheek. ‘My road is the second on the left.’ The crash of thunder startled her for a moment, then the deluge of fat drops multiplied into a flood, drenching her T-shirt and jeans in seconds.

  Laughing, she darted out from under his arm, the chilly summer rain plastering her hair against her cheeks and running in rivulets between her breasts. ‘Come on, toy boy. I’ll race you there,’ she said, before sprinting off in a burst of energy.

  They would work this out. Nothing bad could happen today. She was sure of it.

  * * *

  ‘Come back here...’

  Cooper raced up the shadowy stairwell guided by that pert ass outlined in wet denim, his own shirt sticking to his chest.

  He tripped, cursed, then finally caught up with her, his crotch throbbing now. Running with a hard-on was never a good idea, but he’d been waiting months to get his hands on her again.

  Her light, infectious laugh bubbled through his blood, doing weird things to his equilibrium as he followed her into the shoebox apartment at the top of the stairs. He slammed the door behind him, taking in the compact living room, the kitchen counter, the couch covered in colourful cushions. Then grabbed a hold of one hundred pounds of wiggling, giggling female, and refused to let go.

  ‘Got you.’ He held her close, taking the time to study the open, heart-shaped face, the huge blue eyes that had haunted his dreams for weeks.

  Maybe he had missed her, more than he thought.

  ‘And you’re not getting away from me any time soon,’ he declared. Although she wasn’t exactly trying too hard.

  His lips captured hers in a hungry kiss, while he peeled off the drenched cotton T-shirt to discover the damp lemon-scented female flesh beneath.

  He cupped her generous breasts, the pebbled nipples digging into his palms through her bra, then pinched the swollen tips, while his mouth drank in her soft grunts of excitement.

  Her fingers threaded into his hair, tugging him back. ‘I have to tell you...’ Her voice came out on a whisper. ‘We have to talk.’

  ‘Later.’ He nipped her bottom lip. ‘Sex first. Then cupcakes. Talk after that.’

  He delved to find the hook on her bra and sent up a silent prayer of thanks as it popped open. Dragging the wet hem of her T over her head, he ripped off the sodden bra.

  When she was bare to the waist, her breasts heaved with her staggered breathing, the large reddened nipples like ripe berries, sweet and succulent.

  ‘Those are even hotter than I remember.’ He lifted his gaze, saw the flush of colour on high cheekbones, the blue of her eyes dilated to dark, driving need.

  Cupping one heavy orb in his palm, he licked round the peak, heard her moan, then bit tenderly into the swollen tip, his erection now huge in his pants.

  Her back arched as she thrust into his mouth, moaning softly as he suckled harder.

  Finding the zipper of her jeans, he yanked down the tab, and delved beneath the clinging, constricting fabric to cup her. She sobbed as his fingers widened the slick folds, and touched the heart of her. She bucked, then grasped his wrist.

  ‘Stop!’ she cried. ‘I’m going to come.’

  ‘That’s the general idea.’ Panic clawed at his chest. If she said no now he was liable to die.

  She stared at him, her need plain in the wide pupils, the staggered pants of breath. ‘I want you inside me. It’s been too long.’

  ‘Not a problem.’ He chuckled, relief flooding through him as the tension in his groin begged for release. ‘Then let’s get naked. Fast.’

  The sound of frantic cursing, of tearing fabric, of buttons hitting the linoleum flooring filled the small room as they wrestled to get their wet clothes off as fast as humanly possible.

  After what felt like several millennia she stood naked before him, her gaze darkening further as those bright eyes dropped to his groin. His erection twitched, the pulse throbbing at its tip, steady and relentless.

  He lifted her against the wall of the apartment, wedging himself into the space between her thighs. Clasping her generous hips, he assessed those spectacular breasts. She’d gained some weight since their night in Bermuda and it suited her—the belly that had been so flat across her hip bone
s now pillowing his erection.

  The dumb wave of regret that her body had undergone that small change and he hadn’t been there to see it, to witness it, passed over like a shadow then disappeared as her breasts pressed into his chest—demanding more friction. He ducked his head, to suck at the pulse point in her neck, which beat in frantic flutters. Her addictive scent surrounded him, lemon and spice and all things nice.

  His lips curved, holding her as she hooked toned legs around his waist. Her fingers threaded into the short, damp hair at his ears.

  ‘I haven’t got any condoms,’ he admitted, his mind trying to engage with the need to slow the hell down. To think through the driving urge to sink into her tight heat. He hadn’t had time to stop and pick any protection up because he’d come straight from the airport. And he hadn’t figured things would get this hot, this quickly. But could he risk it? Just this once? She was on the pill? ‘You okay with me using withdrawal? I’m clean, I swear.’

  He felt her nod, and lifted his head to see her eyes, glazed with an emotion that made his heart thud against his chest wall like a sledgehammer.

  ‘So am I,’ she replied

  It was all the permission he needed. His shaft jerked against her belly from the kick of desperation. Palming her buttocks, and angling her pelvis as best he could, he thrust home in one long, solid glide. Her slick, wet sex stretched to receive him, then massaged him like a velvet vice. Her head dropped back, thudding the wall, as he began to move, the thrusts jerky, desperate, the need quickly becoming too fast and furious, the need so raw and draining he couldn’t slow down, couldn’t stop now if his life depended on it.

  She sobbed, her fingernails scraping his back as she clung on. Her muscles began to milk him, and he knew she was coming.

  Don’t pull out. Not yet. Hold on. Damn it.

  His seed boiled, driving up from his balls, hurling him closer and closer to the cliff edge, her sobs of completion beckoning him to come faster, harder. And a tiny part of his mind screamed to the animal inside him.

  Now. Pull out, now.

  He wrenched himself free. Dropping his head against her shoulder, kissing the salt, sweet taste of her neck, the pain of separation as devastating as the brutal, unstoppable roll of orgasm as his seed pumped into the welcoming softness of her belly.

  * * *

  ‘Damn, that was even more awesome than I remember.’

  Ella’s gaze shimmered back into focus as a rough palm touched her cheek and blunt fingers sank into her hair. Those deep emerald eyes searched her face, making her chest tighten.

  She nodded, gently, feeling stunned, her sex still clenching and releasing from the intensity of her orgasm. Seemed absence didn’t just make the heart grow fonder.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered, her throat raw from the wellspring of emotion.

  His lips curved, and he placed a tender kiss on her forehead. ‘Come on.’ He hefted her into his arms, bracing his forearm under her buttocks as she held onto his shoulders. ‘Let’s grab a shower. Then I want a cupcake.’

  ‘But we still need to talk,’ she murmured against his neck.

  ‘Sure. But first I want to see that magnificent rack covered in soap suds.’

  She chuckled, resting her head on his shoulder, and draping her arms around his neck, her emotions too close to the surface to protest. Surely a few more minutes of intimacy, of getting reacquainted, wouldn’t do any harm—she’d waited this long already?

  Locating the tiny bathroom at the back of the flat, he put her down to twist on the shower. But kept one hand on her hip, as if he were afraid she’d run off. She remembered leaving him, that morning with only a thank you. And felt the renewed trickle of guilt.

  The water gurgled and spurted out of the shower head, the stream thin and underwhelming.

  ‘Is that as good as it gets?’ he remarked.

  She smiled. ‘This is British plumbing we’re talking about. That’s the equivalent of Niagara Falls.’

  His quick grin lifted her spirits and made the trickle of guilt dry up.

  ‘At least it’s hot,’ he said, testing the temperature before he hauled her into the cubicle.

  ‘Not for long.’

  He grabbed her lemon verbena soap off the ledge, and worked up a lather, his hair plastered to his head, his eyes wicked with intent. ‘Then we better get this party started.’

  Gentle hands cupped her breasts, lifting and testing the weight as his thumbs glided over pebbled nipples. The heat pulsed and tugged between her thighs.

  She took the soap to wash him in return, putting all the emotion she felt into the task as her hands stroked the lean, muscular slopes of his abdomen, explored the roped sinews that defined his hip bones. She took his penis into her palm, felt it lengthen and harden as she caressed it.

  Blood surged into her tender clitoris, and she knew she wanted him again, already, surging deep, the delicious decadent stretching feeling of his flesh entering hers. Touching her womb where their child grew.

  Soon he would know, and, whatever his reaction, surely it would be okay, when this closeness, this physical joining felt so good, so right.

  But then he lifted her breasts, the cooling water sluicing away the soap, and said, ‘I like the extra weight—it looks great on you.’

  The approval in his gaze had the wave of guilt flopping over in her stomach. She couldn’t wait any longer. It wasn’t fair to him, or to their child. She drew away from him, her back wedged against the wall of the cubicle.

  ‘We need to get dressed. I have something I have to tell you.’

  ‘Okay.’

  He flipped off the shower control, but took hold of her wrist as she opened the cubicle door. The sudden silence felt deafening, despite the blood roaring in her ears. He tugged her towards him as he stepped out behind her, tucked a finger under her chin, lifting her gaze to his. ‘What’s up? Is something wrong?’

  ‘No, I just...’ She gulped past the tightness.

  Not yet. Get yourself together first. You need to tell him gently. Carefully.

  Her gaze dropped to his erection. She certainly couldn’t function, let alone think clearly, while he was standing naked in front of her, visibly aroused.

  ‘I just need a minute.’

  His grip had loosened, his gaze puzzled, but not yet wary. She pulled her hand free, headed for the door. ‘Shall we get dressed? I can meet you in the living room in ten minutes? Make you that coffee I promised?’

  He shrugged, grabbed a towel from the rail to wrap around his waist. ‘Sure.’

  She darted out of the door before he could change his mind.

  * * *

  ‘All right, let’s have it, what was so important we couldn’t finish what I was busy starting in the shower?’

  Ella smiled at the rueful tone, and glanced up from the cupcakes she was busy arranging on a plate.

  He stood with his legs crossed at the ankles, leaning against the kitchen counter. He’d changed into a pair of faded jeans and a black T-shirt, which must have been in the bag he’d had with him. Had he come straight from the airport, then, to see her? She felt a renewed spike of optimism, of hope.

  She’d figured so many outcomes for what she was about to tell him, but none of them had included the possibility that he might be pleased with her news. Yes, it would be a shock, but why had she assumed it would necessarily be a disaster?

  She never would have guessed he would come to London, or the chemistry between them would have remained as hot for him as it still was for her.

  ‘Why don’t you sit down?’ She gestured towards the living area. ‘The coffee will be ready any minute.’

  His brows lifted, the rueful grin taking on a mischievous tilt. ‘It’s not coffee I want.’ Stepping close to hold her chin, he gave her lips a quick peck. The kiss felt casual an
d affectionate. The hope swelled in her chest. ‘But we’ll play it your way, for now.’

  He settled on the sofa, while she fussed over the coffee for another precious few minutes, getting her thoughts lined up.

  Finally she couldn’t put it off any longer. Sitting on the opposite sofa, she placed the plate of cherry-chocolate cupcakes on the coffee table and poured him a cup of coffee. She had a momentary wobble when he told her he took it black, and it occurred to her how much she didn’t know about him.

  Don’t chicken out now. Telling him is the first step to finding out all those things you don’t know.

  She took a long fortifying sip of the fennel tea she’d made for herself. ‘I’m not sure where to start,’ she began, galvanised by the thought that she was excited about taking this new step.

  He lifted a cupcake off the plate. ‘Then why don’t you start by telling me why you ran out on me?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ she said, frowning at the slight edge in his voice. ‘I woke up and you were gone. I figured you’d run out on me.’

  ‘Damn, seriously?’ He looked genuinely stunned, which was a balm to her ego.

  ‘Well, yes. And I felt uncomfortable with your friend Josie there.’ She remembered the spike of dismay and asked, ‘Who is she, by the way? She seemed to know you exceptionally well.’

  His eyebrows rose and his lips crinkled. ‘Are you jealous?’

  Colour stained her cheeks.

  He chuckled. ‘Josie’s like a kid sister. An annoying kid sister. Believe me, you’ve got nothing to be jealous of.’

  ‘I didn’t say I was jealous.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ He sent her a confident smile. And she huffed out a laugh. The tension in her chest easing.

  He took a large bite of the cupcake, held it up. ‘Damn, that’s good.’ Finishing it off in a few quick bites, he placed the paper casing on the plate. ‘So why don’t you spill it, whatever it is you have to talk about. Before we get back into the shower.’

  The colour in her cheeks flared again, under his watchful gaze. ‘Okay, it’s, well, it’s sort of hard to say right out.’