Page 38 of The Decoy

He doesn’t speak when he reaches me. He reaches out and frames my face, his thumbs brushing my cheeks, then leans in and kisses me.

It’s a quick, sweet kiss, but it completely steals the air from my lungs. When he pulls back, his eyes search mine with an intensity that makes my knees go weak.

“Where?” he asks quietly, his voice tight with urgency. “Where did you feel him?”

I laugh again, wiping a stray tear with the back of my hand. “Come here and sit down.”

I lead him over to the leather sofa along the glass wall of my office. Brody sits, and before I can settle beside him, his hands reach out, catch me by the waist, and he pulls me directly into his lap.

He adjusts my weight effortlessly, positioning me so I’m sitting sideways across his thighs.

“Show me where,” he murmurs, his hands moving directly to my midsection without hesitation.

He smooths one hand along the curve, then takes my hand in his other, guiding my fingers over his and trapping them beneath his broad palm, so we’re linked over my bump.

“Here?” he asks, his face just inches from mine, his breath fanning across my cheek.

“Right here,” I say, moving our hands toward the left. “It felt like a flutter, like butterflies. Like that swoosh you feel in your stomach on a roller coaster.”

Brody goes still, his hand resting gently on my stomach. His eyes drop down to where our hands are joined.

“Come on, little man,” Brody whispers. “Give us a kick.”

We wait a breathless two full minutes. The only sound on the floor is the heat blowing through the vents.

I look at Brody’s profile, admiring how handsome he really is, but also the protectiveness radiating off him. I’ve never had a man, outside my family, treat me like this. It’s different, but I gotta say it feels really nice.

I want him to feel the baby move so badly it hurts. I want to share this moment with him, and give him something good to think about after having a crappy week.

“Maybe he’s asleep now or something,” I say, leaning my head against the side of Brody’s neck, and I can smell the now-familiar scent of cedar and soap that he uses. “I read that they sleep most of the time, especially in the second trimester⁠—”

Before I can finish, a distinct nudge presses against my stomach directly under our joined hands.

It feels a little sharper than the first time I felt it.

Brody sucks in a breath. His chest tight behind me. His fingers press a little more firmly over my waist, but then he stills again.

“Was that…?” he stammers, his head turning to look at me, his eyes wide with awe. “Did you?”

“That’s it!” I laugh out loud. “That’s him kicking!”

A huge smile breaks across his face, so big and bright, and so completely unguarded. He lets out a booming laugh and pulls me in tight against his chest, burying his face into my neck, kissing my cheek, my jaw, my temple.

“Holy shit! He kicked!” Brody laughs, his voice thick with emotion as he holds me securely against him. “He’s got some muscle already.”

“He does,” I laugh softly, turning my face and kissing him.

Suddenly, without a warning knock, the door to my office swings open.

“Ellis, I left those tax filings on your desk, and I need you to review⁠—”

My father’s crisp, authoritative voice cuts off abruptly from the doorway.

I freeze at the sound. Brody pulls away from our kiss, but keeps his arms wrapped around me, over my stomach.

I look over and see my dad, dressed in his three-piece suit, looking overdressed in the nearly empty office. Right behind him, my brother holds a stack of folders under his arm.

My dad looks at me, wrapped in Brody, sitting on his lap, tears running down my face, both of our hands over my belly.