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Her stomach rumbles loudly. “There’s your answer.”
That’s too long for a woman with a baby growing inside her. I jump to my feet. “Let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll cook you an omelet. I make a pretty mean one.”
She looks at me with laughter in her eyes. “You cook?” When I nod, she continues, “You don’t look like you even know how to boil water.”
“You’d be surprised by my skills in the kitchen.” Not true. The only things I can cook are omelets and potatoes.
“I’ll be right behind,” she says.
I head to the kitchen and rummage around the drawers and fridge until I find everything I need. I’m glad to see that she’s well-stocked with groceries. That means she’s a regular cook. Her body needs a lot of nutrition, especially during the first trimester.
I laugh softly as I cook the omelet.
“What’s funny?” Ivy asks, walking into the tiny kitchen.
“I was just thinking how shocked my brothers would be if they saw me now. I’ve never cooked for a woman.”
“What, not even a date?” Ivy says, sitting down at the old-fashioned kitchen table.
“Nope, not even a date. I take my dates for meals at restaurants.” I don’t tell Ivy that after sex, they don’t stick around. I show them the door as soon as we’re done with what took us home in the first place. I’m not a guy who is comfortable with intimacy.
The omelet is ready, and I dish it out onto a plate and place it in front of Ivy. While she eats, I make us both a cup of coffee.
I find my gaze wandering to her mouth, and I desperately want to suck on her lips again. It’s wrong and stupid to think of Ivy like that, but it’s too late now. I’ve tasted her lips, and I want more.
After she’s finished eating, she suggests that we drink our coffee in the living room. We both end up on the couch, and she curls her legs under her body and gets comfortable.
“Thank you for coming to check on me. Peter is away on assignment, so it would have been pretty lonely to wake up and find myself alone,” she says.
“You’re welcome. I was worried sick, to be honest.”
She throws me an amused glance. “I’m carrying the next generation of the Andersons, right?”
I shake my head. “I was worried about you, Ivy. Not the baby.”
That wipes the look of amusement from her eyes. It’s replaced by a naked look of vulnerability.
“Hey, it’s fine,” I say and inch up toward her. I take the cup from her and place it on the table.
9
Ivy
I just need to know if he’s truly as good a kisser as I thought that first time or if it was my erotic dreams that had exaggerated his kisses? That’s what I tell myself seconds before our lips meet in a sizzling kiss that awakens all my nerve cells.
Alec groans into my mouth, and then without breaking the kiss, he lies down on the couch and pulls me to lie on top of him. I gasp when his hard cock presses into my thigh. A warning goes off in my head. We shouldn’t be doing this. It’s wrong. Alec is my sperm donor. Nothing more. Having sex with him is wrong. My body and my mind wrestle, but it’s clear that my body is winning. He tastes so masculine and so good. He splays his big hands over my ass and softly caresses it.
My panties are completely wet, as are my shorts for sure. Alec’s hands reach my front to cup my sensitive, almost painful nipples. I moan loudly when he teases one nipple over the material of my top. The side of my brain that is still rational screams out a last warning.
Just one more time. I deserve to feel good for one day. I’ve been through so much. It can’t be wrong that I’m feeling so good, so alive. My hands move over Alec’s muscled chest. He feels so compact and rippled.
His fingers rake through my hair, and then suddenly, all movement stops, and I feel his eyes on me. I reluctantly open my eyes and shudder when I lock gazes with him.
“I want to make love to you, Ivy,” he says, his eyes gleaming with passion.
I open my mouth to talk. To tell him that we shouldn’t. But the opposite comes out.
“Yes.”
