McKenna pulled back.
But Desmond still had her trapped between his body and the table. Her pulse thundered in her ears as they stared at each other.
âThat was...â
âAmazing?â he supplied, his gaze hot. âYeah. But Iâm sensing weâre going to stop now.â
âSee, we communicate just fine.â She gulped. âIâm just...not sure this is a good idea.â
They were not two people who had the luxury of an uncomplicated fling. They were married with a divorce agreement already hammered out. That was not a recipe for experimentation, and she wasnât much of an experimenter anyway.
Where could this possibly go?
âOh, itâs a good idea.â His piercing gaze tore her open inside as he promised her exactly how good it would be without saying a word. âBut we both have to think so.â
With that, he stepped back, releasing her.
She took a deep breath and nodded. He was being gentlemanly about it, putting all the balls in her court. âI agree. And I donât think that right now.â
Her mind didnât, at least. Even if her body did.
* * *
The Marriage Contract is part of Mills & Boon Desireâs No. 1 bestselling series, Billionaires and Babies: Powerful men...wrapped around their babiesâ little fingers.
One
Despite never having believed in miracles, Desmond Pierce witnessed one at 7:23 p.m. on an otherwise nondescript Tuesday as he glimpsed his son for the first time.
A nurse in navy blue scrubs carried the mewling infant into the small room off the main hospital corridor where Desmond had been instructed to wait. The moment his gaze lit on the baby, he felt a zap of recognition in his gut.
My son.
Awed into speechlessness, Des reached out to touch the future.
Warmth and something totally foreign clogged his throat. Tears. Joy. Vindication.
Amazing. Who knew money really could buy happiness?
The kidâs face screwed up in a wail of epic proportions as if the nurse had poked him with a pin. Des felt his sonâs distress with deeper empathy than heâd ever experienced beforeâand that was saying something. It winnowed through his pores, sensitizing his muscles almost to the point of pain as he held himself back from snatching the boy from the nurseâs arms.
Was this terrible combination of wonder, reverence and absolute terror what it was like for all parents? Or had he been gifted with a special bond because his son wouldnât have a mother?
âHow are you this evening, Mr. Pierce?â the nurse inquired pleasantly.
âRegretting the sizable donation I made to this establishment,â he growled and immediately bemoaned not taking a moment to search for a more acceptable way to communicate. This, after heâd vowed not to be his usual gruff self. âWhy is my son crying?â
Better. More in the vein of how heâd practiced in the mirror. But the hard cross of his arms over his chest didnât quell the feeling that something was wrong. The baby hadnât been real these last forty weeks, or rather Des hadnât let himself believe that this pregnancy would end differently than Laceyâs.
Now that heâd seen the baby, all the stars aligned. And there was no way in hell heâd let anything happen to his son.
âHeâs hungry,â the nurse returned with a cautious half smile. âWould you like to feed him?â
Yes. He would. But he had to nod as emotion gripped his vocal cords.
An explosion of teddy bears climbed the walls behind the rocking chair the nurse guided him to. A vinyl-sided cabinet with a sink occupied the back corner and the counter was strewed with plastic bottles.
Des had done a lot of research into bottle-feeding, as well as all other aspects of parenting: philosophies of child rearing, behavioral books by renowned specialists, websites with tips for new parents. Heâd committed a lot of it to memory easily, largely owing to his excitement and interest in the subject, but then, he held two doctorates from Harvard. There were not many academics that he hadnât mastered. He was pretty sure he could handle a small task like sticking the nipple into the babyâs mouth.