The Midwife's Son. Sue MacKay

as my knees.

      Instantly she stilled, her body tense, but he could feel her heat, knew her pulse was working overtime by the way her breasts rose and fell rapidly. She sucked her stomach in so tight it must’ve hurt. ‘Well?’

      ‘Thank you,’ he muttered, as he tugged downwards. ‘At last.’ He slid his hands inside the soft fabric, his fingers sliding over her hot skin, across her back to her waist, round to her stomach and up to cup those luscious breasts. Free breasts. ‘You haven’t got a bra on.’

      ‘Would’ve ruined the look.’ She wriggled her butt against him. Sucked in her breath. ‘Jackson, your thumbs are sending me over the edge to some place I’ve never been.’

      Music to his ears. ‘That’s nothing to the storm your hand’s stirring up.’ His erection felt large, hard, throbbing and ready to explode.

      She leant forward, teasing him with her rear end as she shrugged her upper body out of the dress and let it fall to her feet. Then she stepped out of the puddle of orange fabric and turned to face him. Insecurity and sass warred on her face, vied for supremacy. ‘We haven’t kissed. Not once.’

      Jackson wasn’t sure he’d make it through a kiss. But that uncertainty blinked out at him from her dark eyes and he hauled on the brakes, pulled his hands from where they’d fallen to her waist, and encircled her with his arms. He so wanted to get this right for her. For him. Hell, he knew it would be great for him, but if Jessica wanted a kiss then she’d get one she’d never forget. When his mouth covered hers he couldn’t believe he hadn’t done this earlier. She tasted of champagne and the promise of hot sex. She also tasted of honest-to-goodness, trustworthy woman with a lot to offer and something to take.

      When she pushed her tongue into his mouth to tangle with his he thought he’d died and gone to heaven. His jelly knees melted and they tipped onto the bed, neither breaking their hold on the other. As they rolled and sprawled he continued to devour her mouth. Until now he’d thought kissing highly overrated, but this moment had rewritten his ideas. Kissing Jess went so far off the scale he might never come back to earth.

      Then her hand found him again. Forget kissing. His lungs seemed to fold in on themselves as all the air hissed over his teeth. Forget everything. Absolutely everything.

      Pulling her mouth away, Jess said, ‘You mentioned always being prepared for anything. I guess that means you’ve got a condom or two in your pocket.’

      He froze. Swore under his breath. No. He’d been going to his sister’s wedding, had not expected to be bedding a hot bridesmaid.

      Hot, shaky laughter filled the room. ‘You owe me, buster. Top drawer by the bed. They’re probably out of date but better than nothing.’

      Within moments she had him covered and her hand was back on him, heat rolling through every cell of his body.

      He had to touch her. But suddenly he was on his back and Jess was straddling him. Before he’d caught up with her she was sliding over him, beginning to ride him. His hands gripped her thighs, his thumbs slipped over her wet heat to find her core. She instantly bucked and for a moment she lost the rhythm.

      But not for long. Her recovery was swift. This woman had to be something else. He kept the pressure on as he rubbed across her wetness.

      Above him Jessica let out a long groan and squeezed tight around him and his brain went blank as he lost the last thread of control over his body.

      * * *

      Careful not to wake Jess, Jackson withdrew his arm from around her waist and rolled onto his back. A comfortable exhaustion lapped at him. It would be so easy to curl back into Jess and sleep for hours. Too easy, which was a scary thought. They’d made love again. Slowly and sensually, and just as gratifying. She’d been generous in her lovemaking, and hungry for her own release. He hadn’t experienced anything so straightforward and honest in a long time. And he’d enjoyed every moment.

      But now he had to be thinking of getting home. Squinting at his watch, he tried to make out the time. Four twenty-four? The sun would soon be clawing its way up over the horizon. He slid out from under the sheet and groped around the floor for his clothes, which he took out to the bathroom to pull on.

      He had to get away from here before there was a chance that anyone might see him leaving. He would not give anyone reason to gossip about Jess. It might be harmless but he knew how it could still hurt, ricocheting around the bay and getting more outrageous by the hour. According to Sasha, Jess wanted nothing more than to blend in around here, and to become a member of the community who everyone could rely on for help and empathy. She most definitely would not want to be the centre of idle chitchat at the corner store or in the pub. Jess wasn’t as lucky as he and Sasha were, she didn’t have her family to believe in her and stand by her.

      Biting down on a sudden flare of anger, he dressed and headed to the kitchen to find pen and paper. He wouldn’t leave without saying thank you. Or something. Anything but nothing. He did not want her waking up and thinking he’d done a dash while she’d slept because he hadn’t had a good time or couldn’t face her in the light of day.

      Back in the bedroom he quietly crossed to place the note on her bedside table. Then he stood looking down at her in the glimmer of light from the bathroom opposite. Sleeping Jess appeared completely relaxed. No sass, no uncertainty. His heart lurched. And before he could think about it he bent down to kiss her warm cheek. His hand seemed to rise of its own volition and he had to snatch it back before he made the monumental error of cupping her face and leaning in for one of those brain-melting, hormone-firing kisses.

      Another lurch in his chest. She was like a drug; slowing his thought processes, making him forget things he should never forget. So, he was already half under her influence. If he didn’t leave immediately he might never go away. Which would cause all sorts of difficulties. He and Jessica were light years apart in what they wanted for their futures. Futures that could never blend comfortably. He didn’t need the hassle of trying to make it work and failing, and neither did Jessica.

      Walking away was hard, and for every step his heart made a loud thud against his ribs. But he had to—for Jess. Making sure the front door was locked behind him to keep her safe—which also meant he couldn’t go back to her—he began the ten-kilometre walk back to his parents’ house.

      Hopefully, if anyone he or Jess knew happened by at this early hour they wouldn’t put two and two together and come up with...four. Because there might be gossip about them spending the night together, but this was one story that would be based on truth.

      Three hundred metres on and headlights swept over him. A car sped past, the horn tooting loud in the early morning. Again anger flared, sped along his veins. So much for being discreet. It just wasn’t possible around here. Increasing his pace, he tried to outrun the temper threatening to overwhelm him. When would these surges of anger stop? It had been more than a month since the attack. He should have got past that terrifying night by now.

      The nearly healed wound in his side pulled as Jackson swung his arms to loosen the knots in his neck and back. There was another reason for leaving before the sun came up. That bloody scar. If Jess saw it she’d have a stream of unwanted questions to fire his way. Somehow she hadn’t noticed the rough ridge of puckered skin during the night. Amazing, considering he doubted there was a square millimetre of his body she hadn’t touched at one time or another.

      ‘So, Jackson,’ he muttered, as he focused on the road and not tripping over some unseen obstacle in the semi light of dawn, ‘where to from here, eh?’

      His lips tightened as he grimaced.

      ‘That’s a tricky one. I don’t want commitment, gossip or questions about why I’ve got an ugly red scar on my body.’ That about covered everything.

      If only he’d worn running shoes he could be jogging now. Like they’d have been a good match for the wedding clobber he still wore. But who was around to notice? It was weird how quiet it was around here. No hordes of people bumping into him, no thousands of locals talking nonstop as they began their day. Very, very