Free Revealed: His Secret Child by Sandra Hyatt

He’s a great kid.”
    The compliment, the shared pride, warmed her. “Thank you, though I don’t know how much credit I can take. He came out good. Settled and happy from the beginning. I was lucky.”
    â€œI’d say that part came from you.” His hand shifted on her shoulder, warm and firm.
    â€œMaybe. But his determination to do things his own way, I think that came from you.”
    She caught the gleam of white teeth as his lips eased into a smile. Exactly the kind of shared moment she’d never had.
    â€œWill you get back to sleep okay? You weren’t always good at that.” The question was harmless but his voice low and warm wrapped itself around her in the same way his hand curved around her neck.
    Too clearly, she remembered the best way Max haddiscovered for helping her achieve the boneless completion that led to sleep. “I’ve gotten better with practice.” What she clearly hadn’t gotten better at was controlling her reaction to this man. Even now, when she should know better she wanted to reach out, just to touch her fingers to his chest, to see if he felt like he used to, a pleasure to her senses. Solid and warm…male.
    The air seemed to shimmer and hum between them. Drawn to him, she leaned closer. She shouldn’t want his touch, shouldn’t want his arms around her. But he was the father of her child, and she had shared more of herself with this man than any other person.
    In the dim light, his gaze dipped to her lips. She held her breath, her heartbeat heavy in her chest. Time stretched.
    He took a sudden step back and turned from her.

Six
    M ax woke, knowing something was different. He turned his head and saw that difference sleeping beside him. Gillian.
    He had a wife.
    In his bed.
    Breathing softly. Her lips full and rosy. Lips he’d kissed yesterday. Lips he’d kissed three years ago. Lips he’d kissed in his dreams.
    During the night, she’d moved closer to the center. And so, somehow, had he. She lay on her side, facing him, within easy touching distance. Her chestnut hair spilled over her pillow, one lock sweeping across her pale cheek. A storm surge of erotic memories and unwanted desire rushed through him.
    His weakness for her dismayed him. By rights he should still be furious, but he couldn’t quite hold on to the anger. Maybe because he also didn’t seem able to rein in his attraction for her. Worse, he knew she still felt it, too. Though she did her best to hide it. The awareness, the remembered desire, had passed between them in the quiet stillness last night.
    He didn’t want to want her. And he wasn’t going to be the first to admit or give in to that wanting. That was why he’d turned from her last night when instinct had screamed otherwise.
    But that was then. This was now. She was close and warm and soft. He curled his hands into fists before they reached to stroke that lock of hair from her cheek. “Morning.” He made the word gruff. Waking her so that he wouldn’t be the one lying here thinking about her touch, about the feel of her beneath him.
    Slowly, her eyes opened, then widened farther as the first shock of seeing him registered. Her lush lips parted. Again, unable to stop the recollections, he remembered what those lips could do, the pleasure they could bring.
    Time hung suspended.
    She sucked in a breath, snapped her jaw shut and scooted to the far side of the bed, rolling on to her back and sitting up a little against the pillows. Avoiding his gaze, she looked around the room. “So what happens now?” she asked, all brisk and businesslike.
    Despite his intentions the wrong answer slid into his mind. Along with the awareness that just because he wasn’t going to let her anywhere near his heart didn’t mean their bodies had to miss out.
    Neither of them might be ready to admit or explore the possibilities between them just yet. But they were married now