“You’re worried,” he said.
Of course she was worried! Dumas Industries hadn’t become the mega-company it was by being nice and playing by the rules. Spencer was trying to sabotage her contract with the Goddess and get it for himself. Since that would involve taking her land away from her somehow – and the only home she had ever known, she felt it was a pretty good cause for a bit of concern.
“Yes,” she admitted. Apparently Dumas had been a busy boy; Ian was uncovering more every day and none of it was good. Michael was doing his best to distract her. Thus far, his strategy consisted of keeping her occupied until she fell into an exhausted sleep. As plans go it was simple, but effective, but Dumas and his schemes were always there lurking in the background.
She allowed her hand to roam along his back, feeling all of the strength and corded muscle there, while the other tangled in his silky black hair. Maggie didn’t think she would ever get used to the feel of touching him, or the way it sent little electric impulses throughout her whole body.
“Don’t be,” he said soothingly. “Ian will work his magic and we’ll handle it from there. Dumas doesn’t stand a chance against us.” He worked his way down her neck, across her collarbone, along the swell of her breasts. He ran his tongue around her nipple and blew softly, making her shiver beneath him. His teeth rasped the hardened tip, then nipped her as he eased himself into her, the slick fluids from his previous release easing his passage.
Michael began a slow, agonizing pace, withdrawing as he suckled her breast, penetrating as he nipped it. The result was a full body of sensations so intense it began to push everything else from her mind. “You’re trying to distract me again,” she said breathlessly.
“Mm-hmm,” he murmured against her breast. “Is it working?”
“Definitely.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Michael made lazy circles over Maggie’s extending baby bump. Every day that his child grew inside her, he seemed even more fascinated by it.
“Mmmmm,” she moaned softly. “Don’t stop. That feels so good.” Any time Michael’s hands were on her it felt good, but she loved how the warmth of his hands seeped right down into her and their unborn. Suddenly she stilled, placing her hands over his.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Did you feel that?”
“The baby moved?”
Maggie laughed in pure joy. “Yes! I felt it! Here, Michael...” She repositioned his hands and held her breath. Michael detected the slight movement beneath his fingers.
“That was him? Are you sure?” His face held nothing but pure awe.
“Positive. There! He did it again. He knows your voice, Michael! Say something else.”
“What did Dr. Foster say today?” Michael asked carefully as he waited for the next one.
“Why?” she asked. Whenever Michael used that cautious voice she became concerned. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Michael assured her. “But that was a hell of a kick for this stage. Have the tests come back yet – specifically the one for gestational diabetes? What about the ultrasound results? They usually include measurements.”
“No,” she said honestly. After all, it wasn’t possible to get results from tests she’d never had. “But I think it’s safe to say he’s going to be big and strong, just like his daddy.”
Michael’s eyes glowed with pride, but there was no mistaking his impatience. “What? There’s no reason it should take that long to get results back, not when they have everything right there in front of them. You know what? I’m calling Bob Foster right now.”
“Michael, please don’t do that,” Maggie begged. “It’s late.”
“He’s an OBGYN. He’s used to getting calls at all hours. Besides, he owes me. Where the hell is my cell? I’ve got his number on speed dial...” Michael rolled out of bed, slinging on some loose pants with a drawstring and disappearing from the bedroom in search of his missing phone. Maggie sunk down into the pillows, waiting for the inevitable. Wouldn’t be long now...
“Maggie?” Michael said softly a few minutes later, leaning on the doorframe. “Is there something you want to tell me, love?” He looked so hot, standing there, nothing but the low-slung sweats that clung to him deliciously. The love-tussled black hair and glowing blue eyes still had her catching her breath.
“No, not really.” It was an honest answer. She really didn’t want to tell him she hadn’t kept a single follow-up visit with the obstetrician Michael had hand-selected. One had been more than enough.
“Maggie.”
“I don’t like him.”
Michael gave her a stern look, piercing her with those intense blue eyes until she squirmed. “He’s got bad breath and cold hands that he likes to put in places they have no business being.”