Hotter Than Wildfire by Lisa Marie Rice Page A

she’d stopped breathing for a minute. A vein had been pounding in her neck when she opened her eyes, the nightmare so vivid her heart pumped blood to her extremities to face the danger, even though her muscles were too weak to use it. But now the pulses slowed.
    Her right hand unfurled, like a flower blossoming. Gently, Harry sandwiched her hand between his. Her hand was cold, soft, delicate. Her eyes dropped to her hand in his, then back up to his eyes.
    The lashes drooped.
    “Safe,” she murmured and fell back asleep.
     
     
      “ Is she safe? Really?”
    Nicole stepped out of the bathroom in one of Sam’s favorite nightgowns. Of course, all of them were his favorites. He loved them all, though he loved stripping her out of them even better.
    Billows of fragrant steam boiled out from the open bathroom door. Sam closed his eyes and inhaled. The steam wafted the smell of her fancy shampoo and conditioner and moisturizer and hand cream and foot cream and cuticle cream…He’d become an expert on how many creams and lotions a woman needed in the ten months of their marriage. Each smell was fabulous, but swirled together, and with Nicole’s unique fragrance underlying it…Jesus.
    “Hmm?” Sam enjoyed watching his wife walking around their bedroom. His bedroom had changed beyond recognition since their marriage. It was full of girly things now. The bed had flounces around the bottom, the sheets were floral prints, there were watercolors on the wall, scented candles everywhere and crystal bowls full of flower petals. Silk drapes. Feminine overkill.
    But Sam was a tough guy. He could take it.
    Shit, to be married to Nicole he’d walk over red-hot coals barefoot. Putting up with some froufrou nonsense was nothing.
    He walked to her, to his miracle of a wife, put his arms around her, pulled her to him. The baby was just starting to show and he could feel the little bump against his own belly. He loved that bump.
    Up until it started to show, the little girl Nicole was expecting was more an idea than a reality. They knew she was expecting and in the meantime everything was exactly the same.
    And then the baby bump and the morning sickness brought it home to him every day. They could feel her moving around in Nicole’s belly. He could feel his child in her.
    Sam loved his wife, he loved his brothers, he would die for her and for them without question—but they weren’t his blood. This child growing inside Nicole would be the only human being on the face of the earth who was his blood relative.
    It gave him goose bumps every time he thought about it.
    Sam bent down and kissed his wife, moving one hand up to cup the back of her head. He was lost, just like that, at the touch of his lips to hers. He took a deep, shaky breath, every hormone in his body pinging to painful life, and held her more closely, right hand moving over her back.
    The satiny material felt real good but her naked flesh, he knew from experience, would feel even better.
    He knew this nightgown. There was a zipper…oh, yeah. And when the two back panels separated, he slid his hand over her satiny skin, pulling her even more tightly against him.
    Making love to a pregnant Nicole was mind-blowingly erotic. He was heavy, so missionary would soon be out. Still, there were plenty of other positions, and Sam knew every one.
    Sam picked her up and lay her on the bed gently and stood there for just a moment, looking at her. He had an almost painful hard-on, but just looking at her, knowing she was his, was his wife, carried his baby…shit, that was the best.
    “Sam,” she said softly. “Is she?”
    Oh man. He could smell her excitement, a smell that was imprinted on the most primitive part of his brain. Granted, Nicole would probably say that all of his brain was primitive, but in the most basic, reptilian part of his brain, that smell, her smell, would remain with him till the end of time. Nicole’s arousal.
    How excited was she?
    “Sam?”
    Only one way