Not stopping to second-guess the impulse, she flung herself at him. He pivoted, and arms like iron bands closed around her.

He knew her body so well already. He knew how to shape himself around her, how to tilt her head back, how to plunder the depths of her mouth until they were both shaking. He kissed her as if he almost hated her.

“I could stop you,” he said against her mouth.

“You could try.” She strained to hold him tighter. She knew his body too, and God, it felt so good to feel his larger, muscular frame taut against hers. “But I don’t see how confining me is going to get you any closer to a first date.”

“Goddamn you.” He leaned his forehead against hers, eyes closed.

“Well, goddamn you,” she told him. “Because if you think the next eighteen weeks of worrying about you are going to be easy, you can think again.”

They stood together, breathing quietly, in sync. She could tell when, gradually, his anger eased. She put a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat underneath his broad, hard sternum. He was a difficult man, but she knew a few things about him now, and he had a strong, good heart.

Underneath it, his Power shone dark and smooth like the depths of a bottomless lake. After starting to wrestle with her own unruly Power, she had begun to understand a little of what he must have gone through to achieve that even, polished balance.

Then he said more gently, “Thank you for the eighteen weeks.”

“I’ve got my first appointment with my new doctor next week.” She cleared her throat. “We’ll work out a schedule of visits. I’ll let you know when the first ultrasound is.”

Because that would begin the eighteen-week countdown.

Chapter Eighteen

It was his turn to nod. “I’m still furious. Don’t expect me to be rational if you need to talk further.” His voice turned husky. “But I really want you to stay.”

God, she was so tempted. Just throw everything to the winds and wreck herself on him.

She shook her head. “I just… I can’t.”

Oh, who the hell was she fooling. She had already wrecked herself on him. She might make it sound like she had a good game going, but inside she was a twenty-car pileup.

Would leaving right now save her the tiniest bit of anguish if he was killed in Atlanta before they could see each other again? Or would she be haunted by the time they could have had if she had only opened herself up to it?

She only realized she was opening and closing her hand over his chest when he pressed his hand over hers. “Molly.”

Need melted the stiffness in her limbs so that she sank to her knees in front of him. Wrapping her arms around his thighs, she held him there and he let her.