Somehow we made it there with little damage to the hallway. There might have been a slight incident involving the doorway—but when it came to the new bruise on my hip, it was nothing a little time wouldn’theal.
Once inside our room, I slipped my fingers under the hem of his long-sleeved T-shirt and ran them up the smooth skin of his abs. His muscles flexed then relaxed at mytouch.
That moan? One hundred percentme.
But touching him with my hands wasn’t enough. I craved to feel all of him against me. I shoved the fabric up historso.
“I’d give you a hard time about being impatient,” he said with a chuckle, “but you make a very valid point.” He reached back to grab the collar of his top and yanked the material over hishead.
In the time it had taken him to do that, I had removed my nursingtop.
I know…the bra wasn’t what you were expecting, was it? From the way Josh was staring at it, I would say he felt the same way. It wasn’t boring and practical looking like my regular nursing bras. It was made completely of black lace and left nothing to the imagination—not that Josh needed to use hisimagination.
He palmed my larger-than-normal breasts, feeling the weight of them in his hands, then brushed a thumb across one highly sensitive nipple. Even though I’d breastfed Lily not long ago, the tingling sensation in my breasts warned me it didn’t matter. I was about to have milk letdown, which happened whenever Lily wanted to eat. Great for feeding a hungry baby—not so great if you wanted to get down and dirty with yourlover.
“Unfortunately, the bra will have to remain,” I toldhim.
Hepouted.
“Trust me. Right now these breasts”—I pointed to them—“are fully loaded, and ready to fire at any unsuspectingboyfriend.”
Josh had already witnessed firsthand how far my boobs could shoot milk when Lily was nursing. If a noise distracted her and she turned her head to check it out—you had better duck forcover.
Naturally, he had beenimpressed.
He laughed. “Duly noted.” His hands shifted from my breasts and traveled to the button of myjeans.
Yes,myjeans. Not my maternity jeans, which I’d worn until a week ago. And not Josh’s jeans. Hey, don’t judge me. They were comfortable and looked better than my maternity ones—not to mention they reminded me ofJosh.
Anyway, back to my jeans: they finally fit. Cue thefanfare.
Now, let’s for a moment consider your mega-income-celebrity mummy. If I handed you her pre-pregnancy photo and one taken four weeks post-birth, could you tell which waswhich?
Not bloodylikely.
But hey, if I had a full-time nanny and a full-time personal trainer and spent several hours a daytraining…
Mypoint?
I placed my hand on Josh’s, the one getting ready to undo my jeans. “I’ll warn you now, I don’t look the same as I did before.” And I certainly looked nothing like a puck bunny, who clearly had never givenbirth.
“Holly, that doesn’t matter to me,” he said, his voice low and rough and turn-me-on husky. “No matter what you might believe, I still think you’re gorgeous and sexy. And the fact that you gave me a beautiful and extremely smart daughter makes you even more gorgeous andsexy.”
“Okay,” I said, my sex-starved tone hinting that I hungered to make love to him at least two or three times tonight. A tone that demanded less talk, moreaction.
Would I be sore come tomorrow? Probably—but it would be worthit.
Josh slowly unzipped my jeans and equally slowly peeled them down my legs. Like with my bra, my panties were black and lacy andnew.
“I like them,” he said, “but I think I’ll like them better off you.” He slipped them down my legs. I stepped out of them and he tossed them to the side. “That’s muchbetter.”
Still crouching, he traced his fingers up the inside of my legs and planted a gentle kiss on my stomach, the same way he used to when I’d been pregnant. Once he got to my aching core, he gently cuppedme.
“Are you still sore here?” heasked.
“If you had asked me that four weeks ago, I would have said yes. But I’m fully healed now. I’m good to go.”Very good togo.
“You wouldn’t lie to me about this, wouldyou?”
