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‘That’s right.’ She kept her tone light but he paced over to her and crouched down in front of her, the look in his eyes doing peculiar things to her insides.
For a wild moment the desire to lean on those broad shoulders was almost overwhelming, but then she remembered her father. He was always there, sitting squarely in her subconscious, reminding her that Jed hadn’t planned to have this child. That he hadn’t chosen the responsibility of parenthood. That he didn’t need her to lean on him.
‘You were the one who asked me to tell you about my past. I wasn’t angling for sympathy. I’m fine.’
He gave her a sexy, lopsided smile. ‘Well, I’m glad one of us is. I’m dying of an advanced case of sexual frustration.’
‘Don’t!’ With a slight sob she uncurled her legs and pushed him away, scooping up the plates and cheese and heading for the sanctuary of the kitchen. It didn’t work. He was right behind her.
Brooke piled the plates into the sink until Jed calmly pointed out the dishwasher. She gritted her teeth, totally flustered. Of course, he would have a dishwasher. She bit her lip and loaded it, hoping she was putting things in the right place, painfully aware of him lounging in the doorway, scrutinising her every movement. The rain pounded a hypnotic rhythm on the roof, making the cosy interior of his house seem even more intimate, and suddenly she felt hideously shy of him.
‘Brooke?’ His voice was low and seductive and she turned to find herself only inches away from his powerful frame. For a moment she was paralysed, unable to do anything except lose herself in the depth of those blue eyes, and then she gave a murmur of protest and pushed past him.
‘No, Jed. Don’t look at me like that.’
She backed away and his eyes softened with humour.
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know,’ she was breathless and confused by her feelings. Why did being close to this man always do this to her? ‘Like you want to kiss me.’
‘I want to do a lot more than that, as you well know.’ Jed’s voice was so close it affected her breathing. ‘Brooke, look at me. Dammit, why are we torturing ourselves?’
He caught her firmly and turned her into his arms, his mouth finding hers in one determined, possessive movement. And she was lost.
This was no sensitive, exploratory kiss. No tentative seeking of pleasure. Instead his mouth plundered hers relentlessly, stirring her into a response of equal desperation. They were both starved of the other’s touch, desperate to feed their burning need, and Brooke curled her hands into the hard muscle of his shoulders, drawing herself closer to his powerful body.
With a rough sound he captured her face in his hands, holding her still as his kiss deepened, the excitement threatening to overwhelm both of them. Brooke fumbled with his shirt, wondering which one of them was shaking more as she jerked it free of his trousers, leaving his warm, male flesh tantalising accessible. Her small hands slipped inside and she felt his reaction as she slid her soft palm gently over the heated flesh of his back. At last. To touch him again like this after so long felt so good. Too good.
Still their mouths clung, refusing to break the contact even as his hands tore at her clothing. When his hand cupped the fullness of her breast through her silky bra she gasped against his mouth and pressed closer, desperate to feel more of him, still more.
‘Have you any idea how much I want you?’ His hoarse words were barely comprehensible as he lifted her in one easy movement and set her down on the table, his mouth still ravishing hers as he wrapped her legs around his hard thighs, neither one of them able to halt the reaction that had exploded between them.
Her hands lifted to his face and she explored the roughness of his jaw and the contrasting softness of his dark hair. With a muttered oath he pulled her hard against him, their bodies straining towards each other until the desperation was almost a physical pain.
Brooke couldn’t focus on anything except her overwhelming
need for this man. The wild, uncontrollable expression of passion that exploded whenever they touched. In a breathless confusion of excitement she felt him, hard and thoroughly male, through the soft material of his trousers and she knew that she wanted him with every fibre of her being.
‘Brooke…’ Her name was a groan on his lips as he stoked the heat between them, fuelling their desperation until they were both fevered and panting. ‘The bed, sweetheart.’ He muttered the words against her skin as he pressed open-mouthed kisses down the creamy skin of her throat. ‘This time we’re going to make it to bed.’
Bed? Suddenly the clouds in her head cleared and she pushed against his broad shoulders, her breath coming in rapid pants. Bed? Dear God, what was she doing? She’d never meant this to happen.
‘No, Jed.’ She tried to wriggle herself free but she was trapped by his powerful body, her own slim legs wrapped around his hard thighs. ‘We can’t do this.’
‘We can.’ His voice was a low growl and his dark head bent towards hers, but she shied away, knowing that if she let him kiss her again she’d be lost. It was always that way with Jed. He could make her his with one touch of his mouth.
‘No, Jed.’ She pushed him frantically, her dark hair falling in a tangle around her shoulders. ‘This is torture. It’s worse than torture.’
His breathing was laboured and his eyes were still burning with what had flared between them. ‘It doesn’t have to be torture, Brooke.’
She shook her head, fighting her own impulses with a desperate effort and lashings of will power. ‘No. We can’t do this. Not like this. Not again.’
He held her for a long moment, his body still pressed intimately against hers, and then he released her suddenly, his breathing harsh and uneven. ‘You’re right, of course, this isn’t the right time. But we need to talk about it. We can’t carry on like this. I want you and I want Toby.’
She swallowed and slipped down from the table, adjusting her clothing with shaking hands. He wanted Toby, and Toby wanted him—there was no doubt about that. It would be so simple to just let herself be persuaded. But was that the right decision? Toby needed a father and he adored Jed, but what about the risk involved?
What if Jed became bored with being ‘Daddy’? What happened when Toby was demanding and whiny after a long day? What happened when he was muddy and cross and uncooperative, which all children were sometimes? What then? Would Jed regret his decision? And if he did, what would happen? Would he leave them or would he stay and become more and more bitter, like her father? Her father. She closed her eyes and swallowed. Dear God, she didn’t know what to do. She knew what she wanted—she wanted Jed. But it wasn’t that simple, was it?
