Linc held her breasts in his hands, his fingers caressing her ultrasensitive nipples, and his tongue in her mouth mimicked the thrust of his hips, the sure strokes as he lifted her closer to the sun.
“Come for me, honey, let me feel you,” Linc coaxed, his forehead against hers.
Tate was beyond speech, so she replied by grinding down on him as lightning danced along her skin.
Linc moved his head so that he could speak directly in her ear. “You feel so good. So sexy. Take me, Tate, take all of me. Yeah, like that.”
Her mind and body full of him, Tate reached for her release, and she shouted as another bolt of lightning skittered through her and splintered her body into a million pieces. Somewhere, from a place far away, she heard Linc’s demands in her ear, his words not making sense. But his body did, and she understood the silent demand that she reach for more. She wanted to tell him that she couldn’t, that it was all too much, but then he touched a place deep inside her and she exploded again, harder and faster than before.
A century might’ve passed, or maybe it was only a minute or two, before she came back to herself, her cheek against his chest, his arms holding her tight.
“We did it,” Linc murmured, his hand brushing her hair off her cheek.
“We most certainly did,” Tate agreed, her mouth curving into a satisfied smile.
“The sex was fantastic, I agree, but I was referring to the fact that we managed to make love without one of the kids waking up.”
Oh, right. She’d forgotten about the kids upstairs. But until one of them yelled, she wasn’t moving a muscle. “Yay.”
“Want to see if we can do it again while the going is good?” She heard Linc’s smile in his words, felt the curve of his lips against her bare shoulder.
Tate nodded. Nobody could ever accuse her of not being up for the challenge.
“Slow and sexy this time?” Tate asked.
Linc’s wonderful mouth curved upward. “Sexy every time, sweetheart.”
Tate, always slow to wake up, pulled a strand of hair out of her mouth and groaned into her pillow. Fighting the urge to slide back into sleep, she yawned, frowning when she realized the pillowcase was a deep chocolate color and not the snowy white fabric she normally woke up to.
Linc. Sex. All night long. They’d started on the couch and ended in his bedroom. Twice, three times, four if you counted the heavy petting they’d shared in the shower. They’d been insatiable, turning to each other time and again, consumed by the need to give and receive pleasure.
He was the best lover she’d ever had... Admittedly, she hadn’t had that many men in her bed, but she was convinced that if she had, he’d still be the best. Tender, demanding and confident and, surprisingly, uninhibited, Linc seemed to shed his calm, reserved, everything-can-be-worked-out attitude with his clothes and morphed into a dirty-talking, demanding, unrestrained lover.
Tate had no complaints. Nope, she couldn’t think of one. Well, maybe a little one: she was in his bed and he wasn’t touching her. That, she decided, could be easily remedied. Tate rolled over, and instead of encountering Linc’s hot, hard, naked warmth, her hand landed on a small body wearing flannel pajamas covered in helicopters. Tate immediately glanced down at her chest and sighed her relief when she realized that she was wearing one of Linc’s T-shirts.
Thoroughly confused, she lifted her head to look over Shaw’s sprawled-out body and saw Ellie lying on Linc’s T-shirt-covered chest, her face tucked into his neck and his hand covering her small back. His eyelashes were spikes against his cheeks, and heavy stubble covered his jawline.
Tate noticed the baby monitor on the bedside table next to him and tried to make sense of the time between falling asleep naked and now. She’d acquired a shirt, Linc had pulled on some clothes, and the huge bed they’d made love in had been invaded by two little people.
They looked like a family, Tate thought, panic creeping up her throat. This was what she’d had as a kid, two parents, lazy Saturday morning sleep-ins.
“Welcome to life with kids,” Linc drawled, his growly voice dancing over her skin.
Tate pushed her elbow into the bed and rested her head in her hand. She looked across Shaw to Linc, who had yet to open his eyes. “When did they wake up?”
Linc cracked open one eye and lifted his wrist to look at his high-tech watch. “Shaw wandered in at about five, Miss Ellie was bellowing at six.”
Tate winced. “I didn’t hear a thing. You should’ve roused me.”
Linc rolled his head and his smoky eyes met hers. Heat curled through her at the appreciation in his gaze. “I tried. You didn’t even stir when I poured you into my shirt.”
“That might be because we only got to sleep a few hours ago.” She gestured to Ellie. “But thanks. I owe you.”
“You do,” Linc replied, his smile lazy. “If we were alone, I’d show you how you could repay me.”
Tate blushed, thinking of how well he’d loved her. She opened her mouth to make a witty retort, but her brain had nothing. Zip. Not because Linc was six feet something of pure, primal male but because she’d rolled back in time. Remembering the little girl she’d been, climbing into her parents’ bed at the crack of dawn, waking up in her dad’s arms, her face tucked into his neck, hearing his whiskey-rough voice telling her to go back to sleep.
She’d had a few years of happiness and security, but that had been ripped away when Kari and Lauren dropped into their house and lives. Nothing lasted forever, and as sweet and wholesome as this little scenario was, her past reminded her that it wasn’t hers to keep. Sex was one thing, but playing happy family with Linc and these gorgeous children was not something she could indulge in. She might come to like it and, worse, come to yearn for it. She’d lost one family unit; she wasn’t going to set herself up to lose another.
Tate was about to sit up when Ellie’s eyes slowly opened and focused on her face. She yawned and lifted her little hand in Tate’s direction, her extraordinary blue eyes full of love. Smiling, she crawled off Linc’s chest, over the still-sleeping Shaw and into Tate’s arms. Ah, dammit, Tate thought as Ellie’s chubby arms wound around her neck and the little girl burrowed closer, her nose under Tate’s jaw, her hands tangled in her long hair.
This was trust at its purest form, Tate thought, holding Ellie tight and closing her eyes, feeling the wash of love breaking over her, holding all the pent-up power of the sea. Oh, God, she couldn’t fall in love with Ellie, couldn’t start thinking of being her family, her primary caregiver, of making a family with her.
How was she supposed to look after a little girl with the type of career she had? Babies and border posts were not a happy combination at the best of times, and taking Ellie with her would be utterly impractical.
Keeping Ellie with her would mean sacrificing her career—a career that earned her a lot of money and that she loved. With Ellie in her arms, Tate stood up and walked over to the window of Linc’s bedroom, pushing aside the heavy drapes to look down at the icy road below. She released a heavy sigh. If she even dared to imagine giving up her freedom and her independence to raise Ellie, how would she support them? She had a healthy bank account and she could probably buy an apartment—not in Manhattan obviously—and ensure that they had a roof over their heads. But she’d still have to feed them, clothe them, pay the utilities, and to do that she’d need a job. A job, in this context, meant staying in one place, and Tate shuddered. She hadn’t had a fixed abode in years, and she didn’t think she could do it.
A bigger worry was that Ellie was