Winter Hart
I took his hand and led him over to the bed when we were in his room. I pushed him to sit and climbed into his lap. Deja vu hit me, but too many clothes were between us. He ran his hand under my shirt, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.
With my arms wrapped around his neck and my fingers in his hair, I stared into his pleading amber eyes. My heart ached to believe him. To know for sure that he was it for me. I rested my forehead against his, and his grip tightened. My heart pounded in my chest.
“I want you,” he exhaled.
“Even if I wasn’t pregnant?” I bit my bottom lip. I don’t want to be an obligation. I want to be the reason he is holding me.
He nudged my nose with his, “We have been skating around our feelings, even before that night.” I smiled at the irony. “I love y
