The Pregnancy Plan / Hope's Child: The Pregnancy Plan / Hope's Child

He must have purchased tickets earlier, because he pulled two out of his pocket and handed them to the attendant, and they joined the queue. There were only a few people ahead of them—most of the younger crowd preferred rides that offered more thrill—and it only took a few minutes before they were ushered into their car.

As she slid across the seat to make room for Cam, she thought it seemed smaller than she remembered. Or maybe it was that Cam seemed bigger. Or maybe it was just that her entire body was sizzling with awareness. Whatever the reason, Ashley found herself thinking that she should have nixed his suggestion. But the attendant had already secured the door and the wheel had shifted to load the next car.

They were only about halfway to the top, slowly making their way round as the cars continued to load, but Ashley felt her tummy drop as she looked down at the crowds below. “I never used to be afraid of heights.”

“Are you now?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted, but thought it probably wasn’t the height so much as the possibility of falling and found herself wondering about maintenance schedules and metal fatigue and other things she’d never considered before. “Do you think this is the same Ferris wheel we used to ride as kids?”

“It might be,” he teased. “Why—are you worried that the old wheel should be retired?”

“Maybe.”

He chuckled and slid his arm across the back of the seat. “Do you remember how we used to ride it over and over again?”

She nodded.

“The first time I ever kissed you was at the very top.”

She remembered that, too, and how she’d thought the drop in her belly was the car moving, until she realized it hadn’t moved at all. That was the day she’d fallen in love with him.

“I think the local high school boys still lure their girlfriends onto the ride to steal kisses,” she told him.

“I’m sure it’s not a strategy exclusive to high school kids,” he said, curling his arm around her shoulders.

She eyed him warily. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“Too late,” he said, just before his lips touched hers.

Chapter Eight

She couldn’t pull back—there was nowhere to go. She could have pushed him away—but she didn’t want to.

His fingers sifted through her hair, cupping the back of her head, changing the angle of the kiss.

Her eyes drifted shut, her lips parted.

His tongue touched hers, lightly, teasingly.

Her stomach dropped, and this time she knew it had nothing to do with the ride and everything to do with the man.

When she was fifteen, she’d thought Cam Turcotte was a great kisser. Of course, her experience at the time had been extremely limited and Cam’s technique had definitely been superior to that of any of the other three boys she’d kissed.

They’d both moved on since then, and though Ashley secretly hoped to find something to criticize so she could stop wanting him so damn much, she couldn’t deny that his mastery was confirmed. Somehow he just knew how to do everything right. When to advance, when to tease, when to push, when to withdraw.

His lips were soft but firm, his taste both familiar and different, and altogether too tempting. It would be so easy to sink back into his arms, to pretend that the past twelve years had never happened. But no—she wouldn’t let herself fall into that trap again. She wouldn’t let herself forget anything of their past or delude herself into thinking they could have a future. She was just going to enjoy the moment for what it was.

When he finally drew back, they were both out of breath.

“This is crazy,” she told him.

“I know,” he agreed, and covered her mouth again.

She met him halfway this time, as eager and desperate as he. Maybe it was crazy, but it was safe. As long as she stayed on the Ferris wheel, there was no danger of this leading anywhere she wasn’t ready to go.

Okay, so maybe she was more ready than she wanted to admit, but she still had no intention of succumbing to the desire that raged through her system. Then his hands slid beneath the hem of her top, his wide palms skimmed up her sides, over her ribs. His thumbs brushed over the aching peaks of her breasts through the satin fabric of her bra. She moaned, and he nibbled on her bottom lip while his thumbs moved back and forth over her nipples, the rhythmic motion shooting tingles through her whole body.