CHAPTER NINE
AFTER DINNER, ROMI texted Jeremy Archer and asked if she could schedule a phone call with him the next day.
He must have forwarded the text to his administrative assistant because that’s who sent a time for the phone call to Romi.
Romi couldn’t help comparing the response to how her dad would have reacted to a text from Maddie. First, Maddie wouldn’t have had to schedule the phone call, not even back in the day when he was working at Grayson Enterprises full-time.
Second, if Romi’s dad had been that busy, he would have texted to say so and schedule the time.
Even with the drinking, she much preferred Harry Grayson as a parent over Jeremy Archer.
Warm hands slid around to settle on her stomach and Max’s hard body pressed against her back. “What are you thinking?”
She told him.
“You really mean that, don’t you?” Max asked, sounding surprised.
She turned in his arms. “Parenting is about more than providing money for the best schools and someone to cook nutritious meals.”
“I agree.”
“Good.”
“My mother set a very good example.”
“Well, you may not believe it, but my dad did, too.”
“I would not discount your childhood memories because your father has slid so deeply into the bottle in recent years.”
“Thank you.” She smiled. “So, we agree…children deserve their parents to be fully engaged in parenting.”
“Yes.”
“My dad did a great job raising me without my mom.”
“And my mother did a stellar job without my sperm donor,” he replied drily.
“But if we make babies together, they get both of us.”
“Absolutely.”
“Even if we don’t stay together.” She would say it so he didn’t have to.
His muscles contracted around her, pulling her close against him. “Especially then.”
He didn’t seem to notice how tight he was holding her. An unconscious reaction to her words? Maybe.
Maybe Max didn’t like thinking about ending the marriage she hadn’t agreed to yet any more than she did.
She looked up at him through her lashes and leered playfully. “Wanna do some more compatibility testing?”
His eyes going molten, Max didn’t even crack a smile. His answer was to simply bend down and lift her into his arms, heading toward the bedroom without delay. She hooked one arm around his broad shoulders and leaned forward to place soft little kisses against the side of his neck.
She inhaled deeply of his masculine scent. He’d shaved again before dinner and the faint traces of his aftershave added a woodsy fragrance.
Nuzzling into the scent, she flicked her tongue out to taste his skin. Salty and clean, it was all Max. The one man she wanted above all others.
Now, look who was being naff. But really? This man was it for her and she knew it.
The changing light indicated they’d come into the bedroom. Romi squirmed out of his arms before they could land on the bed together.
“What?” he demanded.
She pointed to the oversized brown leather armchair with matching ottoman in the corner. “Sit down over there.”
He questioned her with his eyes, but he didn’t argue. The chair was easily large enough to hold them both and yet he didn’t look dwarfed in it at all.
His presence was so real, so overwhelming.
Corporate Tsar? Definitely. Maxwell Black would dominate the most ornate throne, not the other way around.
And she liked that with shameless enthusiasm.
She started to nudge the ottoman out of the way with her knee and suddenly it was sliding to the side, Max’s foot shoving against it.
“Thank you,” she told him.
He merely shrugged.
She tugged at the hem of his undershirt. “Here, let’s take this off.”
He’d put on a pair of sleep pants and black-ribbed man’s tank top after their shower.
She loved the way the shirt clung to his muscles and exposed the hair she enjoyed so much, but she wanted him naked and this was the first, very necessary, step.
Max peeled it off and tossed the undershirt to the side. He gripped the waistband of his flannel sweats. “These, too, hmm?”
She nodded, happy he was on board with her plan. He might even know what her endgame was.
When he was naked, sitting on the chair, she dropped to her knees in front of him. Nostrils flaring, his jaw locked, bringing to mind that Cossack she’d likened him to earlier.
“You like me in this position,” she tried teasing, but her own voice was husky with desire and anticipation.
Molten pewter locked onto her with laser intensity. “I like you any way I can get you.”
“I believe you.” And didn’t that just make her want to do this more? Pressing against his knees, she asked, “Widen your legs for me?”