The McRae Series 01 - Twelve Days Sam and Rachel

hadn't touched her in the longest time and that maybe something was wrong. That maybe she should do something about that.
    "Is it so wrong for me to kiss you?" she whispered. "Because I still want to, Sam."
    He glared at her. The ache in his chest just got bigger. It was growing like a balloon that might pop any moment.
    "Is that so hard to believe?" she asked. "That I might miss you?"
    "Yes," he said raggedly, reaching hard for every breath. She was going to kill him, right here and now.
    Instead, she came to him, tentatively put her hands on his arms and stroked up and down. He thought her hands were trembling and knew he was, just from having her hands on him and feeling as if she wanted him.
    She had the tiniest, most delicate hands. They'd almost not found a wedding band small enough to fit without it having to be sent off to be sized, and they hadn't had time for that. They'd run away to get married, because her family was still so upset with them and the baby was coming. Rachel didn't think they could wait for everyone to calm down, and she didn't want a lot of upset, unhappy people at their wedding. And Sam... well, he'd just wanted it done. He'd wanted his ring on her finger, her life seemingly irrevocably tied to his.
    Right now, his ring was still on her finger, and her hands were on his body, and he had no idea what it meant. Because the ties had certainly unraveled over the years. They were frayed and worn and ready to snap in two at any moment.
    Still, he wanted her. He was trying very hard to ignore the fact that they were in their bedroom and she'd come straight from the bath. He loved the taste of her skin, the smell of her, straight from the bath. Especially when he caught her just as she climbed out, her skin still warm and glowing and a bit wet. He loved backing her against the vanity, then lifting her onto it and sliding between her thighs and taking her, right there. So fast it made his head spin and hers.
    She eased herself into his arms now, and his head went spinning just the same. His arms came around her, crushing her to him. He felt the contact down to his toes, and the next thing he knew, he was kissing her like the dying, starving man that he was. He pressed his mouth to hers and she opened to him. He let himself inside of her in that one small way. She tasted faintly of coffee and sugar, and herself, so familiar he shuddered and ached and pulled her harder against him.
    "Rachel," he groaned, his hand at the small of her back, arching her to him, to fit into the cradle of his thighs and nestle against his hardening body.
    She wound her arms around his neck, and he felt her hands in his hair, holding him to her. She was so soft, so touchable. It had been so long since she'd come to him so eagerly. He'd almost convinced himself she didn't want him at all anymore.
    He kissed her again and again and again, was just backing her toward the bed when the baby started to cry. He didn't even realize what it was at first, and when she went to draw away from him, he simply couldn't let her go. His thoughts were so jumbled, all that registered was that this little bit of heaven was ending and that they might never get it back.
    It seemed he wasn't as ready to give her up as he thought.
    The baby cried again, the sound echoing around the room.
    Rachel mouthed, "I'm sorry," as she slipped out of his arms and down the hallway.
    Sam stood there, breathing hard, his head still filled with the scent of her, and he was getting angry. Because he'd made up his mind, made his peace with this. They were simply disaster together, him and Rachel. For half his life, he'd wanted her and tried to make her happy, and never been able to do it. Trying anymore seemed as futile as banging his head against a brick wall and nearly as painful, and yet he still wanted her.
    Rachel was back a moment later, the baby he simply couldn't look at in her arms. She sat on the bed, her legs crossed, a pillow in her lap, the baby lying across it. He could hear her sucking contentedly on her bottle, and it was so odd, hearing a baby in this house, seeing her.
    It felt different from all the times her sisters' and brother's kids had visited, because it was just him and Rachel and the other two children. It felt like their little family, in moments when Sam's control slipped and he let himself think dangerous thoughts like that. And it hurt. Even now, it still hurt.
    He'd never held their baby. The doctor had tried to talk him into it,