His face contorted with emotion as he let out a moan. "Yes," he rasped before sealing her mouth with his. Their tongues mated as he stroked her to an orgasm.
~ * ~
"This is going to be the best nine months of my life."
Willow grinned and rolled onto her side to smile at her lover. "I suppose I could go on birth control once the baby's born," she offered. "I've never had such a regular sex life that I had to before, but if you want..."
Raith turned to look at her for a moment, and she thought he was going to grumble something about how he didn't think they'd last that long together, but instead he gaped. "Really?"
She shrugged. "Why not?"
Raith suddenly hauled her into his arm and planted a wet, sloppy kiss on her mouth. "You're so freaking amazing."
She chuckled.
With a sigh, Willow snuggled against him and completely forgot she'd been attacked earlier. Closing her eyes, she smiled and started to drift off, thinking it really was going to be the best nine months of her life.
His caressing palm on her butt almost had her lulled into la-la land when he murmured, "You're mom's got a nice ass."
Willow's eyes popped open. She blinked repeatedly, then twisted so she could send him an incredulous look over her shoulder. "Excuse me?"
"What?" he defended. "You always like pillow talk after sex."
"And discussing my mother's attributes was the first thought that came to your mind?"
Sending her a rueful grin, Raith said, "I mistook her for you the first time I met her at the courthouse. Her back was to me and I said to myself, that's got to be DeVane. But I was wrong... well, half wrong. It was a DeVane, just not you." He shrugged and continued to plane his hand over her smooth skin.
"Oh, my God," Willow uttered in absolute horror. "Please tell me you didn't grope my mother."
"No," he said, insulted. "I merely called out, 'Hey, DeVane,' and someone who wasn't you turned around. It startled the crap out of me. She didn't look like some sixty-year-old woman from the back." As Willow laughed, he squeezed the curve of her hip encouragingly and added, "It must be nice to know you have genes that preserve so well."
She chuckled again. "I'll let my mother know you think she's well preserved."
"Don't you dare," he muttered irritably. "She's the only member of your family who actually likes me at the moment."
"Everyone else likes you just fine," she said, surprised he even cared. "They're just upset because they think you broke my heart."
As soon as the words tumbled from her mouth, she realized she should've kept her big trap shut.
Raith's body drew taut. "Did I?" he asked quietly.
She opened her mouth. Not wanting to tell him the truth and ruin the moment, she took his hand off her hip and set it over her chest, pressing his palm to her heartbeat.
"Feel broken to you?"
Warm fingers kneaded her skin and smoothed down to cup a breast. He kissed her hair and answered, "No."
She could still feel the tension in him, the worry that he'd actually hurt her. He had, but it seemed so insignificant now that he was back in her life.
Not wanting him to dwell on it, she said, "I still can't believe you checked out my mom."
"Well… She kept bending over when she was packing your bag tonight. How could I not?"
She grinned and closed her eyes, glad everything was back to normal. "God, Malloy. You're such a guy."
"Yeah, but that's what you love most about me." He rubbed his limp penis against her thigh suggestively.
She opened her mouth to spit back one of her usual snarky comebacks, but it struck her that he was right. She loved everything male about him, from his hot body and huge penis to every chauvinist, sexist thing to come out of his mouth.
"DeVane?" he said her name as if he expected her to retort something right back.
But she merely murmured, "Hmm?"
He stroked her hair. "I'm glad you didn't die tonight."
As his words washed over her, she reveled in the concern she heard in his voice. Then she turned and looked at him, and the somber glint in his gaze made her blink back tears.
"Jesus Christ, woman." He cupped the back of her head and pulled her face snug against his chest. As she wrapped her arms around him, more worries spilled from his mouth. "I swear I lost ten years of my life when I got the call and heard someone had tried to kill you. I kept thinking, what if he had succeeded, what if you were dead and the last thing I'd ever spoken to you was some stupid bullshit said in anger."
"I didn't die," she murmured, reaching up to stroke his face.
He kissed her fingers. "See that you keep it that way, will you?"
She grinned and tilted her chin back to smile at him. "Yes, sir."
"I don't know what I'd do without you, DeVane."
He pressed his mouth to hers, and Willow held on tight to this hard, strong man whose only weakness was her. As she kissed him with everything she had, she conveyed with her tongue in his mouth what her heart was still too afraid to speak in words.
Twenty Three
Willow woke alone. On the other side of the wall in the bathroom, she heard Raith's shower running. A smile spread across her face as she listened. She yawned and stretched, feeling pretty good for almost getting killed twelve hours ago. It was the bed, she decided. She liked his bed, even if it was smaller than hers. It was kind of fun, having to sleep closer to him. Besides, his sheets smelled like him. God, the whole room smelled like him.
Content, she closed her eyes and breathed in a deep breath, sighing as she exhaled.
But the blissful mood didn't last. Her stomach rolled as soon as she sat up. That had been happening more and more recently. Pregnancy was taking control. Trying to ignore the queasiness, she threw the sheets off her lap. She had no sooner swung her feet to the floor, however, than her stomach revolted.
Knowing she couldn't fight the nausea back, she bounded across the floor, out of the bedroom, and into his bathroom. As her knees hit the tile, she desperately wished Malloy had more than one toilet because as she commenced to vomit, he whipped the shower curtain aside to see what was going on.
Her head still hung limply over the lid as he turned off the water and stepped from the tub, naked and streaming wet. Kneeling behind her, he gathered her mass of hair into one hand and held it out of her face. Too ill to be mortified at his presence, she merely fell back against him when she was finished, exhausted and panting.
Raith took control of the situation, pulling her closer even as he reached around her with one hand to flush. He handed her some tissue so she could wipe her mouth. She tossed the used paper in the trashcan and let out a breath before relaxing... only to get soaked through.
"You're wet."
He didn't answer but reached behind him and grasped the towel hanging by his head to yank it down. Instead of drying himself, he patted her back where he'd drenched her. She closed her eyes and wiggled closer to rest her head on his shoulder, too tired and sick to care about anything.
"Thanks," she murmured.
"No problem." He tucked her hair out of her face. "Feel any better?"
"Not much," she groused, then smiled after inhaling a big whiff of his wet, clean skin.
"What's it feel like?" he asked after a moment.
Willow opened her eyes. "What? Haven't you ever thrown up before?"
"Not the morning sickness." He rolled his eyes before adding, "The baby. Can you even feel anything in there yet?"
"Actually, I think I can," Willow said, turning to look at him. She was surprised by the excitement she found in his eyes.
"Really?" he said, lowering his gaze to her stomach. "What's it feel like?"
"Like... well, kind of like a bubble?"
He frowned. "A bubble?"
Willow grinned and pressed the palm of her hand over her still-flat belly. "I can only feel it when I reach for something or stretch my stomach muscles. There's this tiny little knot, or bubble-like thing in there. It's... it's actually really amazing."
Raith reached out, hesitant at first. Thrilled he was showing any interest, Willow took his wrist and guided him the rest of the way to her stomach. The warmth of his fingers immediately soaked through the long shirt she was wearing and into her skin.
"Has it kicked yet?"
Willow grinned. "It probably won't even have legs for another few weeks. So, no, I haven't felt any kicking. And thank God. Camille used to swear Will was doing chin-ups from her ribs."
Raith lifted his face. She'd never seen this sensitive side of him before. It confused her, made her want... she didn't know what she wanted, but it was definitely more than she thought he could give.
"It doesn't seem fair," he murmured, once again smoothing out her messy bed head.
Willow closed her eyes and went back to resting her cheek on his shoulder. "What doesn't?"
"You get all the morning sickness, the kicks in the ribs and the bloated stomach and swollen ankles, and I get nine months of sex without condoms."
"Oh, I can make you suffer with me, if you'd like," Willow assured him. "I've already had a couple hormonal moments as it is. And trust me, they weren't lovely."
"Bring 'em on," he said softly as his fingers combed through her tangles. Still nestled against him, Willow smiled. She wiggled another inch closer until something suddenly stopped her, nudging her ribs.
Her eyes flew open and she frowned. "Are you turned on?" she
asked, lifting her face so she could look down. When she found him aroused, she gasped. "Oh my God, you are!"
"What?" he demanded. "You're in... that."
She glanced at his shirt she was wearing.
"And your legs are all bare and sexy," he added.
But Willow just looked up at him and shook her head. "Malloy, I look like hell."
Raith snorted. "Well, if this is as bad as you get, then you've got nothing to worry about."
Touched by his kindness, Willow's lips parted. He glanced away and briskly pushed to his feet only to hold a hand down to her.
"I've got to get to work," he said, ignoring his own arousal. "Still feel like you're going to puke?"
Willow shook her head.
"Good. I'm going to throw some clothes on and run to the store to get you some bagels."
He walked out of the bathroom with Willow gawking after him. He'd spent enough mornings with her to know she only ate bagels for breakfast. But to remember and volunteer to go out and buy her some, without her even asking, was just plain nice. It shocked the hell out of her.
~ * ~
When Brenda arrived to take her daughter off Raith's hands, Willow was sitting in the kitchen, eating her bagel and reading the morning paper while Raith finished getting ready for work.
"It's open," she called when she heard the knock. The handle jiggled, but no one entered, assuring her the door was not open after all. Suddenly remembering she wasn't home and she would probably have her door locked there too if she was, Willow popped to her feet and hurried to the exit, only to check the window to see who it was first.
When she saw her mother's face, she let her in, feeling awful she had to do a security check on her own mom.
"Where's the cop?" Brenda asked, glancing around as soon as she entered.
"Still putting on his uniform," Willow answered, returning to her seat and picking up the paper again. She studied the columns of houses for sale, wondering if she'd ever be able to sleep in her own home again by herself.
"You know," her mother said, plucking up one of Willow's bagels and snipping off a bite to eat. "I knew you two would end up together as soon as I met him at the courthouse, and Walt told me who he was."
"And why's that?" Willow asked, not really paying attention to her mother as she continued to peruse the classifieds. There was a lovely threebedroom place on Winston Boulevard. Maybe she'd drive by it sometime. She needed to set up a nursery soon, anyway. Might as well go all out and get an entirely new house.
"Well, honey," he mother said, dragging another piece of bagel through a clump of cream cheese before popping it into her mouth. "You said you were going to marry him when you were seven."
That finally captured Willow attention. She lifted her face. "Excuse me?"
Brenda smiled. "Don't you remember? You met him at his father's funeral. And you hugged him when he cried. Then, when we were leaving, you proclaimed you were going to marry that boy someday."
Willow blinked as a long ago memory hit her. She saw a beautiful teenage boy with inky black hair and sad eyes that refused to cry for his father.
"That was him?" When her mother nodded, she shook her head. "No, wait. It couldn't have been. That boy's name was Peter."
Brenda bit her lip and frowned. "Are you sure? Walt told me he was the son of Pete Malloy, the officer who died in action during a simple traffic stop."
"Yes, I'm positive that boy's name was Peter," Willow insisted. "I made you look it up in the newspaper in his father's obituary, remember. His name was definitely Peter. Named after his father"