The Nurse's Newborn Gift by Wendy S. Marcus Page B

cautioned.
    â€œWhat?” she snapped.
    Good lord. The woman was stubborn to the end. “We’re going to Lamaze class,” he told her calmly. Even if he had to drag her. “Just give it a try. That’s all I ask. If you hate it and find it not at all helpful, we’ll leave.” Not before he did his absolute best to convince her to stay. Hopefully once he got her inside she’d calm down.
    â€œYou’re not going to leave me alone about this, are you?”
    He shook his head. No. He wasn’t.
    â€œFine.” She threw open the door. “Let’s go waste the next three hours of our lives. Time we will never get back, by the way.” She slammed the door shut behind her.
    Spencer didn’t care. She’d gotten out of the car, and that’s all that mattered. Reaching into the backseat, he grabbed his pad and pen and the two pillows Krissy had brought, then he climbed out, too.
    One look at what he held in his hands and Krissy slammed her hands on her hips. “Really? A pad and pen? You plan to take notes?”
    Just to get a rise out of her he said, “I plan to study them, too.”
    â€œPoindexter.” She turned to walk up the sidewalk. “Some things never change.”
    He smiled as he followed, hadn’t been called that name in years and he liked hearing it, especially in Krissy’s annoyed voice. Just like old times. “Call me what you will, but when you’re ready to give birth, I’ll be ready to coach you through it.”
    â€œI plan to be sleeping through it.” She glanced back. “But thanks.”
    Two hours later, in a large, dimly lit room, with Krissy laying on her side on a mat with a pillow under her head and one between her legs, Spencer, and the couples around them, got an earful of how Krissy likely sounded and acted during sex.
    Vocal—gratifyingly so, a total ego boost. He dug his thumbs into her low back.
    â€œThat feels sooooo good,” she moaned.
    Demanding—better to know than to have to guess and hope you get it right.
    â€œLower. Right there. Harder.” She let out a deep satisfied breath. “Don’t stop.”
    An active participant—the very best kind of bed partner.
    She rolled her hips and arched her back. “Up a little. No, down.”
    He slid his hands up, then down, following her directions.
    After her “Aaahhh,” accompanied by a pleasure-filled exhalation, Spencer actually found himself getting a little aroused by it all.
    The teacher, a tall, slender, middle-aged woman wearing a lab coat over street clothes, said, “Okay, time to change positions.”
    â€œNooooo,” Krissy whined loudly. “I like this position.”
    The teacher smiled at Spencer. “Looks like someone has the magic touch.”
    Why thank you, thank you very much .
    Krissy turned onto her back. “Don’t look so proud of yourself.” She whacked him in the face with the pillow that’d been between her knees. “It’s only because I haven’t...been touched...in a long time.”
    The teacher called out, “Next position I want my partners to take a seat on the floor, backs straight, legs opened, knees bent.”
    Shoot, just when things were starting to get interesting.
    The teacher continued, “Now I want my mamas to sit between their partner’s legs, back to their chests, and rest your head on their shoulder.”
    Krissy maneuvered into position.
    â€œPartners,” the teacher said. “Slide your arms under and around,” she demonstrated on another couple, “then clasp your fingers together on the top of her belly.”
    Spencer did as instructed.
    Krissy felt so good and smelled so good. Her soft, fragrant hair tickled his cheek. Her body heated his wherever they touched, which felt like everywhere. How many times had his teenage self dreamed of holding her this close?
    She wiggled her bottom then