“Ahhh …” Her head slumped sideways to rest against the couch. “Uhmmm, okay …”
The sweet hum of approval in her throat would have encouraged any man, and he looked forward to hearing her make that same sound when he touched her in many, many more places. “I take that as consent to continue.”
“A definite yes.” She reached behind her and cleared away half of the pink throw pillows so she could settle into the crook of the sofa.
Her shoulder shifted, sending her full breasts in a tantalizing shimmy of movement while she made herself more comfortable. His mouth went dry, and he reached for his water. He’d been with too many women to count, and none had this powerful effect on him.
After he replaced his half-empty water glass on the coffee table, he pressed his thumbs back into the graceful arch of her right foot and decided to see if he could tease a smile back to her face. “Since you’re in a yes mood, how about you marry me?”
She didn’t so much as flinch, much less open her eyes. “Don’t push your luck.”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
Sure enough, the corners of her mouth twitched with a grin as she relaxed deeper into the cushions, hugging one of those froufrou pink pillows.
The business world hadn’t labeled him persistent without cause. He would win her over. He was patient as well as persistent, a combination for success.
Never had the stakes been so high, and not just on the business front. He refused to let his child be born without his name. From a young age, he’d known too well how vulnerable a young kid could be without a father.
He’d been told how Emilio’s biological father had abandoned his responsibilities. When Emilio’s mother had died, Emilio would have become a ward of the state if Jordan’s parents hadn’t adopted their nanny’s orphaned son.
Jordan refused to be like the man who’d left an innocent kid alone and helpless. Sure Brooke had plenty of family, but never would he let his child wonder why his own father hadn’t cared enough to be there.
His hands gripped tighter around Brooke’s feet as if he could somehow will her to stay with him. “You’re just as sexy in sandals as you are in heels.”
She opened one eye to peek at him. “Are you jumping on my mother’s bandwagon and telling me I have fat feet?”
He would rather guide conversations away from that drunken bat. “You have beautiful feet, with pretty red toenails. I just want to know why you won’t pamper yourself. Take it easy during your pregnancy.”
“I’m letting you pamper me right now. Don’t ruin it by grouching at me.” The hint of a pout on her lips gave him an almost irresistible urge to mold her mouth against his for a taste.
“Fair enough.” He let his hands glide up to her ankles, his touch growing lighter.
When she didn’t object, he inched his way higher to her calves, more of a stroke now than a massage against her bare flesh. Her honey-toned skin still carried a light tan left over from the summer.
Her chest rose and fell evenly. Had she fallen asleep? He skimmed his fingers to the back of her knees, a place he remembered well as being an erogenous zone. Her breathing hitched, then increased.
Oh, yeah. Her eyes might be closed but she was totally awake and not stopping him.
He could continue farther up her dress, likely without protest from her. But he’d better not take the risk now. He’d won time with her. He needed to use it wisely.
Jordan inched his hands from beneath the hem of her dress.
Her lashes fluttered open, and her arms lifted.
Hell, yeah. He couldn’t stop the smile from sneaking over his face, and she grinned back. So he waited for her to make the next move.
Her arms hooked around his neck as her mouth parted to greet his with a sigh of acceptance. He wanted to touch all of her, but restraint seemed to be working more in his favor. He planted his hands on either side of her on the couch, careful to keep his full weight off her. As much as he ached for closer contact, he needed to be careful of the growing swell of her stomach. Why couldn’t she see that he simply wanted to take care of her and the baby?
He let the kiss play out, glad to connect with her on a level where they communicated so well. Angling to rest his weight on one elbow, he allowed his other hand free rein to roam along her side, upward to cup the fullness that had been tempting him all evening long. The near-immediate beading of her nipple through the fabric followed by that sweet hum of pleasure he’d been hoping to hear encouraged him.
Her slight wriggle against his thigh urged him to keep right on pursuing this path. But the more logical strategist in him knew better.