Page 99 of Where the Wattles Bloom

Swinging his legs out of bed, Lachlan sat on the edge of the mattress as Rowena approached. She felt weirdly nervous stopping in front of him, his knees bracketing, although not touching, hers. It was an intensely intimate moment as he lifted his hand and placed it on her belly.

A shiver coursed right through her middle as she slid her hand over the top of his and guided it to the area she’d felt the baby move. He’d touched her stomach before. Hell, he’d touched a lot more, but this was different. Both of them staring expectantly at her belly in the dark.

Waiting.

It felt profound and important, and Rowena’s heart swelled as she looked at the top of his head, her other hand itching to burrow into his hair as though it was her place to do so.

‘Nothing,’ he murmured after what felt like an age, glancing up at her, disappointment thickening his voice.

Desperate for him to experience what she’d just experienced, she murmured, ‘Hang on.’

Moving out from between his legs, Rowena sat beside him and, without giving it a thought, reclined against the bed. Grabbing his hand again, she placed it back on her abdomen.

Maybe the baby preferred her to be horizontal?

Lachlan half turned to accommodate his hand placement before easing himself down on the mattress as well, bending his elbow and propping his head on his hand. And they waited again, the silence charged and expectant.

It didn’t take long. A slight flutter at first. So slight Rowena wasn’t sure it was anything other than some passing wind. Lachlan certainly didn’t feel it. But then it came again, stronger this time, until the third time it was a definite kick.

Lachlan looked at her incredulously. ‘I felt it!’

Rowena laughed at the wonder on his face. ‘Me too.’

It happened twice more in quick succession and they grinned at each other like loons, cradling her stomach, waiting for it to come again. It didn’t. But that didn’t stop them from lying there for the next half an hour, barely talking or moving. Just waiting and hoping.

‘I think the show’s over for tonight,’ Rowena eventually murmured.

‘Thank you for waking me,’ he whispered, his hand still in place as his eyes locked with hers.

He kissed her then, slow and soft and sweet. The warmth from his palm was comforting and arousing in equal measure, and the now familiar ache flared between her legs and drew a long, low moan from Rowena’s throat.

‘Sorry,’ he murmured, pulling away. ‘Couldn’t resist.’

Neither could she as her hands circled his neck and pulled him down, eager for more of his mouth.

The excitement and the emotion of the moment had morphed into a dizzying sexual cocktail, and her heartbeat tripped and tap danced against all her pulse points. The ache ramped up, twisting into a spiral that churned to a relentless beat.

She knew it was all kinds of wrong to cross this line, that it would muddy the waters between them, but she couldn’t help it. Rowena wanted Lachlan McCabe—it was that simple.

And that complicated.

With his naked chest stoking her desire, her hands roamed freely, revelling in the bulk of his shoulders and the firmness of muscles beneath her questing fingers. And the way he groaned as her hand pushed inside his shorts to squeeze the smooth roundness of a buttock was like a firework to her overheated system.

Rowena felt an answering response in him as his hand stroked beneath the hem of her shirt, pushing it all the way up until it ruched under her chin, completely exposing her to his view.

‘Fuck,’ he muttered on a pant before nuzzling her neck, his lips trekking towards her mouth.

His chest hair brushed against her skin, fuzzing against her nipples and dragging a moan from her throat. The texture was so intensely erotic against her highly sensitised skin, she swore she could practically orgasm from that alone.

If she could orgasm, of course.

Oh god. Why was she thinking about that? Now? When a thick pulse tingled between her legs and her entire body had turned into a giant erogenous zone?

What the hell was wrong with her?

As if sensing he was losing her, Lachlan broke away, his blue eyes shimmering with lust, his mouth wet from hers, his chest heaving. ‘You’re thinking again.’

Sad, but true. Why did she keep doing this? Why was her body so damn sexually … suicidal?