P.S. I'm Pregnant. Heidi Rice

pinned to the bed under him.

      ‘You’ll have to get off me if you want me naked,’ she said.

      ‘Good point.’ His grin dazzled her. ‘I’ll race you,’ he said, bounding off the bed.

      She lurched into a sitting position, and watched mesmerised as he whipped his T-shirt over his head and his six-pack rippled. She looked away, determined not to be distracted from the task at hand by the muscular chest she’d spent most of the night memorising by touch. Anticipation surged through her. She was going to win this race.

      She grappled with her shoelaces, cursing her choice of footwear. If only she’d stuck with the sandals. Finally she freed her feet, toed off the boots and flung them off the bed. She heard the thud as his jeans hit the floor, concentrated on wriggling her dress over her hips.

      Heat blasted through every nerve ending as she looked up to see him standing before her, gloriously naked and his erection looking even more magnificent than she remembered it.

      She bit into her bottom lip; her breath clogged her throat as excitement and trepidation seared her insides like a flashfire. He mounted the bed, grasped her ankle and gave a sharp tug. ‘Come here,’ he said, dragging her beneath him.

      ‘Wait.’ She braced her hand on his chest. ‘I want to touch you.’

      ‘Same here,’ he said, cupping her chin. ‘Let’s negotiate.’

      Then he kissed her, moulding their mouths together and crushing her body into the mattress. The coarse hair of his chest abraded swollen nipples. She dragged in a breath, let it shudder out as his lips trailed over her collarbone. His tongue slid fire across the swell of her breast and then his teeth nipped at the rigid peak and tugged. Rough hands kneaded her buttocks as his lips found hers again, the kiss so wildly erotic she thought she might be consumed by the flames.

      She reached down, shaking with suppressed desire, and cupped his powerful erection in her palm. He shuddered as her fingers wrapped around the pulsing length.

      She revelled in the feel of him, everything she’d imagined and more. His forehead touched hers, his whole body vibrating, his breathing harsh as she stroked and caressed him, learning the shape and texture as she had yearned to do all through the night. Velvet over steel. So solid, so warm, so responsive to her touch.

      She ran her thumb over the thick head, felt the tantalising bead of moisture. He cursed softly and grasped her wrist, jerking back.

      ‘You’ll have to stop, or this’ll be over before it’s begun,’ he rasped.

      ‘I don’t want to stop,’ she cried, desperation edging the words.

      Don’t make me stop. Don’t make me think, her mind screamed.

      I don’t want to think, I just want to feel.

      ‘Are you sure?’ he asked. ‘I don’t want to rush you.’

      She’d never been more sure of anything in her life.

      ‘I want to rush. I’m ready,’ she said, alarmed, need overwhelming her. She had to do it now, before the delicious fog of sensation cleared.

      ‘Let’s see how ready, then,’ he murmured.

      Before she could figure out what he meant, his fingers delved into the curls at her sex. She shuddered as he circled her clitoris and probed. She cried, gripped his shoulders, slick juices flooding out as she bucked against those knowing fingers, primed to explode.

      He chuckled. The sound deep, husky and self-satisfied. ‘Hell, you’re incredible.’ His fingers pushed inside her, his thumb grazing the hard nub. She moaned, clinging to the edge of control. ‘But you’re a bit tight, Angel Face,’ he said, sounding regretful.

      ‘What?’ The question shuddered out on a breath of need—and confusion. Why was he still waiting?

      He groaned, holding her buttocks as he pressed his erection against the slick folds of her sex. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

      ‘You won’t,’ she gasped. ‘I want you inside me.’ How much more encouragement did he need? ‘Now.’

      ‘You’re sure?’ he asked again, making her want to scream.

      She nodded, lifting her knees, angling her hips to accommodate him, so frantic she’d lost the power of speech. If he didn’t get on with it, she’d die of need.

      She was about to tell him so when he stilled, cursed under his breath and then, to her complete astonishment, pulled away from her and climbed off the bed.

      She bounced up on her elbows. Horrified.

      ‘Where are you going?’ she cried out on a thin wail of exasperation. Had he lost his mind?

      He bent to get something out of his bedside table. ‘What’s the hurry, angel?’ he murmured.

      Her eyes drifted down to that perfect rear end. Lust and frustration surged through her. She wanted to scream the house down. He’d worked her up to the point of meltdown and now he’d decided to rearrange his dresser!

      ‘What’s the hurry? Are you joking?’ she squeaked, embarrassed by the desperate quiver in her voice.

      He turned back gripping a telltale foil packet between his fingers and heat flooded into her cheeks. Even in her rampaging nymphomania, how could she have forgotten about protection?

      ‘No joke,’ he said, sounding ever so slightly smug. ‘We wouldn’t want any surprises.’

      He knelt back on the bed, grinning at her as he ripped open the packet with his teeth and rolled the condom on. He put his hands over her shoulders, forcing her back on the bed, caging her in.

      ‘Hasn’t anyone ever told you, patience is a virtue, angel?’ His eyes dipped to her tightly peaked nipples. ‘Although, it should be said, there’s not a lot of virtue in what I’m thinking right at the minute.’

      Daisy’s caustic reply caught in her throat as his lips covered hers. She rose up to kiss him back, letting the need, the sensation take over. But as she wrapped her arms round him, her fingers found the ridges on his back and tenderness welled up right beside the need.

      His fingers gripped her hips and in one smooth move, he thrust inside her.

      She sobbed, the fullness shocking her, the fury of sensations making her cry out. Then he began to move. Slow, heavy, insistent strokes that had the orgasm coiling ruthlessly inside her.

      A staggered moan wrenched from her throat as the intense pleasure sent shock waves rocketing up from her core. She anchored her legs round his waist, sweat slicking her skin as she moved to meet each of his deep thrusts with thrusts of her own, and he drove deeper still. Her high-pitched pants matched his harsh grunts. Everything clamped down, her whole body glowing and pulsating as it rode the crest of a magnificent wave. The broken sobs echoed in her head as she burst free and exploded over the top—and heard his muffled shout as he crashed over behind her.

      ‘That was amazing. You’re amazing,’ Connor murmured, stroking Daisy’s cheek, then winced at the cliché.

      But what else was he to say? Hell, if he hadn’t been horizontal already he would have fallen over. He’d never had a stronger, more satisfying orgasm in his life. The experience had been literally mind-altering.

      Using every last ounce of his strength he braced his arms to stop himself from collapsing on top of the woman responsible and crushing her. Her eyelids fluttered open as he stared down at her. He grinned as she focussed on his face. She looked as shattered as him, those round expressive eyes wide with amazement.

      Then her vaginal muscles squeezed around him in the final throes of her orgasm.

      ‘God, sorry,’ she whispered as the pink in her cheeks darkened to maroon.

      She looked horrified.

      He had no clue what the problem was—but with her still