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“Not too tired,” she whispered, her eyes glazing over with staunch acceptance. She’d rather have him than not—even if it drove another stake into her lovesick heart.
He leaned forward to place a kiss on her bared shoulder. His tongue flicked under the strap, then dragged up her neck, giving her all of his attention like no other woman in his past or present who’d commanded it.
Warmth flooded her tummy, the flutter between her legs having everything to do with a million jettisoning hormones. She buried her lovelorn emotions into a deep, dark corner of her being and focused on the present. Focused on giving in to her physical needs—and riding Zach like the cowboy she once thought he was.
Her nightie was gone in a whisper as he lifted it over her head and tossed it to the floor. He smoothed his hand along her swollen belly, moving to her breasts next.
Lying back, she closed her eyes as his amazing mouth skated over one nipple then the other. The sensations assaulting her brought an end to the warring emotions in her chest and the thoughts littering her brain. And when his hands moved between her thighs and stroked, every ounce of her attention went there. Nothing felt as natural, as all-consuming, as making love with Zachary Ferguson.
His lips were at home on her body—anywhere on her body. Every inch of her belonged to him.
She reached for his T-shirt, tugging at it weakly. “Off.”
“Yes, ma’am.” There was the drawl she loved so much. He whipped off his shirt to reveal his chest and once again, breathing became difficult. Was it any wonder she let herself indulge in what she thought would only be one night with him? Was it any wonder she indulged now?
She took a page from Zach’s book and released her worries of responsibility and the future, letting go like dandelion fluff on a thick summer’s breeze. She focused on his physicality instead.
His broad shoulders, round like he spent the day hauling hay bales instead of sliding a mouse across his desk. His biceps, straining as he shoved his jeans to his knees. Thick thighs, covered in coarse, dark-blond hair and leading down to sturdy feet. All of him was gorgeous. And for the moment, hers.
“You keep looking at me like that, Penelope Brand, and I’m not going to last a minute.” His green eyes sparked in challenge. His dimple dented his cheek as he shucked his boxers.
She embraced the idea of behaving like an out-of-control teenager. Pen had always been drawn to stability...until she’d moved to Dallas. Until she’d laid eyes on Zach. He made her embrace the moment. Made her live in right now.
His hot skin came in contact with hers and she could’ve sworn she felt sparks dance on her skin. He stripped her panties down her legs and once she was naked, pressed every part of himself against her.
She moaned. He was perfect.
He was hers. In a superficial, temporary sense, but nonetheless hers.
* * *
“Remember to pretend to be surprised,” Penelope told Zach as they stepped up to the entryway of the hotel. At the top floor stood the Regal Room, their destination. A popular choice for parties of the upscale variety. She’d never been, but knew about it, and had recommended it for some of her more elite clients in Dallas.
“Should I add clutching my heart for effect?” Zach leaned over to ask, his voice low. Then pressed the button for the elevator.
“That might be poor form since Rider will be there.”
“Oh, right.” But his smirk hinted that he’d already figured that out.
This was the way things had been in the two weeks since their argument that ended in bed. They’d ended up in bed several times since and each interaction was like the last. Penelope fell deeper in love with him, and Zach maintained his position as kind, caring father of her child.
It should be enough. She wanted to be the woman for whom it would be enough. Where his loyalty and limited offerings would be substantial for as long as they lasted.
But they weren’t.
It was the wrong time to broach the topic, but she’d been unable to summon the bravery to do it before. Now or never, as the saying went. So while the elevator zipped them to their destination, she blurted, “I’m going to announce that the wedding is on hold when I announce that we’re having a daughter.”
His steely glare matched the hardness of his jaw. “Penelope.”
“I’m not asking permission.” She lifted her chin. It was past time she pulled the plug on the relationship that was rapidly eating away at her heart.
“This isn’t—” he started, but the elevator doors swished open at that moment.
They stepped out of the elevator and were greeted by a sea of smiling faces, very few of which she recognized.
Collectively, a shout rose in the room. “Congratulations!”
The “surprise” baby shower wasn’t pink and blue or even green and yellow. The palette was a sophisticated blend of white and gold, right down to the confetti now littering the floor. Balloons tied with gold-and-black ribbon were suspended from the main table, which boasted flutes of champagne and an array of tapas displayed on elegant platters.
