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“Ahm, Ian, we already talked about this. We’re not doing it. The plan is you’ll–”
“Your chances of conceiving are higher if we do it the way nature intended.” Her fingers fly over her mouth, her cheeks flush and her eyes sparkle. “Seriously. I’m not joking. I’ll show you the studies.” It’s not a huge difference in odds, but it’s there. She breaks out laughing, losing her battle to rein it in. Her laughter is contagious, and I grin but still push forth with my argument. “If you have an orgasm.”
She bowls over laughing, lying on the booth, and I can no longer even see her. Yep, that went well.
When she finally controls her laughter, with one arm over her ribcage as she gasps for air, I’m already digging into the meal, although her humor sapped my appetite. Our conversation meanders back onto a normal path, even with her constantly breaking into fits of laughter and regularly wiping below her eyes.
The second we exit the restaurant and step out onto the city sidewalk, I take her hand possessively and pull her against me. She can laugh all she wants, but I remember New Year’s Eve. I’m a good friend, but I’m no saint.
Startled, those blue eyes search for an answer. Why can’t she see it?
Blood rushes thick and heavy in my veins. Want. Need. With us, it wouldn’t be just sex. She has to sense it. And all the things she fears are a world away. Here, in Houston, we can have this.
Her cheeks flush and those full lips part. My pulse thrums. Her palm caresses my chest. The light touch resonates through my body.
My fingers graze her arm. Along the side of her breast. She shudders. Her breaths come out short and choppy. Her pupils darken, overshadowing the crystal blue.
I dip my head lower, tasting her, nipping at that lower lip. She tastes sweet as honey with hints of spice.
My hand curves up behind her neck, angling her head to allow a deeper kiss while holding her in place. Her hands wander, over my back, in my hair. My skin tingles with awareness and a desire for more. I back her up against the building, pressing into her. My lips recapture hers, demanding more. Her thigh lifts, allowing me closer, and I rock against her with a savage intensity.Fuck, I want her. She releases a long, sexy moan that has me throbbing with need. Her chest heaves as she sucks in air.
A horn beeps in the distance, reminding me of our present situation, on the street with her pressed against a brick wall. The pad of my thumb gently soothes her soft, swollen lips. I press my forehead against hers and ask, “Still funny?”
ChapterSixteen
Sandra
Last July
Heat radiates off my skin all the way back to his apartment, and it has nothing to do with Houston humidity or the sultry summer night. Lust surges in my core as physical need overrides all logical thought. Through his lobby, riding in the elevator, his hand brushes mine, or grazes my wrist, or warms my lower back, nurturing the conduit of energy coursing between our bodies. Always touching me, ensuring the heated urgency never cools.
At his apartment door, he fumbles with the key, and my brain kicks back into gear. Ian isn’t the young, gawky teen from down the road. Decades have passed, and he’s gorgeous. Sexy and desirable.
Ian Duke could have anyone he wants, and he probably does. If his friend Harrison is any indication of his activities when I’m not here, they prowl the bars at night. We don’t chat about our dating lives. Oliver and I do, but I know little about Ian’s sexual history. Our sex life has always been more or less a mutually agreed to taboo topic.
The lock clicks.Am I really doing this?
His molten gaze has me squirming, in good and bad ways. He said he fantasized about me, back when I was in college. A twentysomething younger version of me. My body has changed in twenty years, even without the markings of childbirth that are so common in others my age. My breasts are mostly the same shape and size, my skin elasticity not as tight. There’s no way I can live up to whatever his teen imagination concocted.
He extends his arm against the door, holding it wide for me to enter. The bluish haze of city lights brightens the end of the long hall, beckoning. I inhale deeply, centering my wayward chakras, and enter.
He toes off his shoes at the door, and I slip off my heels. Midway down the entry, he pushes me up against the wall. His fingers tug at my hair, and his cheek roughly grazes mine just before he plunders my lips. Desire unfurls as he presses his pelvis against me, rubbing my throbbing center, stoking all that simmering desire into a roaring flame. The soft material of my dress provides little obstruction, and I mewl as the movement of his hips strokes me.
My body thrums with anticipation. His smooth fingers roam over my body, along my hips, my back, and my ass. He’s everywhere, and I follow his lead, exploring his body over his clothes. The long, muscular lines of his back, the curve of his shoulders, the tips of his hair.
He breaks the kiss and runs the tip of his nose against mine, and the rough pad of his thumb tenderly strokes my chin.
“Bedroom?” As if he needs to ask.
I’m clinging to the man like he’s a trellis and I’m a vine, and he’s asking. I don’t want him to ask. I don’t want to think. But I should be thinking. This isn’t just a hook-up. We’re doing this with the goal of getting pregnant.
“Sunny.” He breathes out my name, and the heat in those warm, golden-brown eyes melts the percolating second guesses.
“Yes.” Nerves stir, and I force a timid smile. “Let’s do it the natural way. Take me to your bedroom.”
“You won’t regret this.” He caresses my cheek, and my heart palpitates from the intensity in his gaze, in his presence. “I’m going to make you feel so good.”
It’s a sinful, delicious promise, and I’m pretty sure I whimper.
