A Christmas Night to Remember(58)
She cupped his rugged face with her small hands, kissing him hard. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said gently. ‘I won’t do that again. I promise. I’m here now.’
He kissed her back, even harder, stroking her warm flesh as he moved her against him. ‘In mind as well as body?’ he asked quietly. ‘And don’t pretend to make me feel good. I need to know how you’re feeling if we’re going to beat this thing.’
In reply she curved her body around his, delighting in the way they fitted together. ‘I’m here,’ she repeated firmly. She slid her fingers over the damp skin on his back, powerful muscles responding under her touch before she stroked her way round to his flat belly, teasingly following the line of hair which arrowed downwards before flaring dramatically out again and providing a thick dark cradle for his masculinity. When her hand circled and caressed the erection her touch had brought forth, she smiled at him seductively. ‘Fancy making that four times you’ve forced your wicked way on me?’ she murmured throatily, kissing the corner of his mouth tenderly.
This time their loving was long and slow and infinitely satisfying, and when they had come back from the world of intimate light and sensation, Melody lay in her husband’s arms, her whole body so relaxed it felt boneless as Zeke pulled the duvet over them. The events of the past twenty-four hours and not least the weeks of misery and anxiousness before Christmas had caught up with her, but she didn’t want to sleep again. She just needed to be with Zeke, to feel him, look at him, touch him. She felt as though she had been on a long, dangerous journey and come home. Softly, she murmured, ‘You said you had some ideas about what I can do in the future earlier?’ She twisted to face him. ‘What are they?’
He cupped her buttocks and pulled her tightly against him, his mouth taking hers in a long kiss. When at last he released her lips he still held her close. ‘That I have,’ he agreed huskily. ‘How about I go and fetch us a drink and we’ll talk? There’s wine in the fridge.’
She grinned at him. ‘Isn’t it a bit early in the day for wine? It isn’t even lunchtime yet.’
‘Not at all. It’s Christmas Day. Ordinary rules don’t apply. Besides, it’ll give you an appetite for lunch—which, incidentally, I suggest we have here in bed. In fact I see no reason for us to get up today, do you?’
She gazed at him, loving him and thanking God that Christmas Eve had worked its magic and brought her to her senses. ‘None at all,’ she said softly.
The wine was icy cold and delicious when he brought the bottle and two glasses back to bed, along with the rest of the presents from under the tree in their little sitting room. She opened her presents in his arms, delighting in the dainty little gold wristwatch, gossamer-thin silk nightdress and negligee, her favourite perfume and other gifts, all perfect and chosen with love. But it was the eternity ring nestled between her engagement and wedding ring her gaze kept returning to. The ring was exquisite, but it was the statement behind it that made it precious beyond words. He had bought it when she had rejected him, spurned his love and refused to listen to him, because he loved her and was determined love was eternal. And it was. Oh, it was.
‘Before I make my suggestions about the future, can I just say they are meant to fit in with you having my babies?’ Zeke said softly as she snuggled down in his arms again.
Zeke’s babies. She could let herself believe it would happen now. She smiled at him, radiant in a way he hadn’t seen before and so beautiful she took his breath away. ‘That might happen sooner than you think,’ she said serenely. ‘We’ve made love four times in the middle of my cycle and I haven’t been taking the pill since I’ve been in hospital, so…’
‘You wouldn’t mind?’ he asked, a touch anxiously.
She touched his face lovingly. ‘Would you?’
‘I can’t wait to have you barefoot and pregnant,’ he said with deep satisfaction. ‘And it would fit in well with certain changes I’ve made in my own life in the last little while.’ He smiled at her frown of enquiry before kissing her.
He reached for their wine glasses, topping them up and handing her hers before he said, ‘A toast to the new owner of Media Enterprises—David Ellington.’
She stared at him in amazement and shock. ‘You’ve sold your business?’ David Ellington was a mogul billionaire.
‘Lock, stock and barrel,’ he said cheerfully, taking a gulp of wine. ‘I should have been with you the day of the accident instead of chasing my tail over some damn crisis or other. It was a wake-up call—a terrifying one. I vowed the night of the accident that if you pulled through I’d reassess what was important in my life. So I did. It didn’t take much thought.’