“Are you saying you don’t know?” he demanded, pouring more wine into his glass.
“I think the bed needs to be exercised,” she said, sipping from her own glass.
“Any chance you’ll exercise the bed with me?”
She leaned across the table and pressed her mouth to his. “I thought you’d never ask.”
As dawn broke through the curtains the next morning, Brock struggled to bring himself to a wakeful state. He fluttered his eyes open and tried to focus. Groaning, he started to get up.
He felt Elle slide her hand over his waist to his abdomen.
“It’s too early,” she whispered.
“Can’t argue with that,” he said and turned toward her, pulling her warm, sexy body against his. “I can’t decide if it’s totally bad or totally good that you came to see me at the office.”
She ran her fingers through his hair. “You better say it’s totally good,” she said.
He chuckled and slid his hands down her waist to her bottom to pull her against him. “Totally good,” he said and groaned as he felt himself grow hard. He swore under his breath.
She rubbed her sweet lips against his mouth and wriggled her honey-soft nether regions against him where he was hard and already wanting. “Oh, Elle, I can’t get enough of you.”
He pulled her against him and slid against her wetness, seeking, wanting, needing. He found her swollen opening and thrust inside her.
She gasped and the sound aroused him even more.
“Brock,” she whispered. “I need you.”
“You’ve got me,” he promised, thrusting inside her. “In every way.”
She enclosed him with her wet velvet, gasping and begging. The sound of her breath and voice made him crazy. He craved her with every inch of his being. The sensation of her silken warmth drove him over the edge. With just another thrust, he felt his climax roar through him, sending him into a spasm of pleasure.
“Elle,” he whispered, sinking down on her.
“Oh, yes,” she said, clinging to him. She rubbed her lips over his ear. “This almost makes me want to move into this apartment.”
A chuckle rumbled up from his gut. “I’d never get any work done.”
“You did before,” she said.
“That was tough. You were a major distraction. I couldn’t wait for the end of the day when you and I would escape,” he said. “Now that you’re pregnant and you’re my wife, it’s just as strong as ever.”
“Really?” she asked, her gaze puzzled as she stared up at him. “You don’t seem to have a problem coming home late.”
“The company’s in a transition period. That will change,” he said. He was trying to put the pressure on Golden Gate, but he couldn’t tell Elle about it. He wanted to, but she was too close to the situation emotionally. He knew she felt some tug of gratitude toward her grandfather. The knowledge dug at him, but soon enough, he would remove that obstacle between them.
She gave a sigh. “Until then, I guess I’ll have to rescue you every once in a while.”
“Rescue me?” he echoed, wondering what she meant.
“From work,” she said. “I’ll bring you a meal and use it to lure you up to your office apartment. And then who knows what else will happen?” she said, grinning up at him.
That day, as Elle began work on a picture display for Brock in the sunroom, the doorbell rang and Anna appeared. “Mrs. Maddox is here.”
Elle lifted her eyebrows. “Which one?” she asked, hoping it was Renee.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Mrs. Carol Maddox,” the housekeeper said.
“Oh, there you are,” Carol said, coming from the hallway. She smiled at the housekeeper. “No need for formal announcements. We’re family here. You’ve made a lot of changes in a short amount of time. The house has a more sparse feel to it,” Carol said. “How does Brock like it?”
“Very much. I’m trying to create a combination of new and traditional. Bree has helped me,” Elle said.
“I didn’t know she was an interior designer,” Carol said.
“She has an amazing eye,” Elle replied.
Carol stepped closer and studied the photo display. “What’s this?”
“A surprise for Brock. I know his memories of his father are important to him, so I wanted to display them in a meaningful way.”
“Oh, look, there are even a few of me in there,” she said with a bite in her tone. “At the hospital and at Brock’s graduation. Don’t mind me. I’m just the mother,” she said and gave a brittle laugh.
“The focus of the subject is Brock’s father. I see it as a memorial of the best of him,” she said.