The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Yes, you have.”
And when he ducked his head to catch her mouth with his, there was no denying he was right.
* * *
For long moments he kissed her, slowly, deeply, thoroughly—the languid sweep of his tongue between her lips serving both to seal the deal as well as remind her they could take as much time as they liked.
And then from the hall beyond came the rattle of keys and Darcy jerked back, only to have Jeff catch her before she could put more than a few inches between them.
“Not done with you yet,” he murmured at her ear as Gail’s sing-songy chatter—a little more clipped than usual, spilled around the corner.
“Running late...Pilates...lots of errands...back later.”
Jeff’s brow arched and they both looked toward the doorway leading to the back door in time to see Gail buzz past with a hasty wave and barely a backward glance.
Darcy glanced up at Jeff. “She knows.”
Jeff wagged his head. “Probably. On the upside, she won’t be surprised when we tell her you’re moving out.”
TWENTY
The universe was conspiring against him. There wasn’t any other explanation for why three times Jeff had gotten Darcy into his bed, and three times he’d woken up alone.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he rolled onto his back and stretched across an expanse of sheets better suited to two than one.
He’d get up earlier tomorrow because he was determined to have Darcy in his bed, every way possible. He hadn’t thought it could get any better than having her coming apart for him in this space that was his alone. But after the passion had been sated and they lay together with Darcy tucked into the shelter of his body—for once not going anywhere...the rhythm of her breath slowing until she was asleep in his arms, his hand resting over the small swell of her belly—yeah, that was a satisfaction, a rightness beyond expectation.
It made him want more.
Starting with the sleep-softened morning version of her lazing between his sheets. Warming beneath his unhurried touch. Giving up those little pleasured sounds he couldn’t get enough of.
Pushing out of bed, Jeff groaned thinking how gorgeous she’d be in the morning with nothing but sunshine blanketing her lush body, making all that silky hair shine like spilled gold across his pillow.
Maybe he’d coax her back into bed, he thought, about to swing the bathroom door open—when Darcy beat him to it emerging from the other side, hair pulled back into a snarled knot, the skin beneath her eyes looking like an old bruise and her complexion in general making the slate-gray of his sheets look downright rosy.
“Darcy, are you okay?” he asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, ready to swing her into his arms and jog over to the E.R. She looked like death warmed over and suddenly a part of him was sincerely wishing Grant was the man she’d spent the night with so he could help her. But even as the thought skirted through his mind, a highly possessive part of him roared. Definitely no Grant.
“I will be,” she half moaned then, looking down at her watch, added, “in about five minutes. It never lasts past eight-thirty these days.”