by Joanne Rock
They’d finished the frittata he’d whipped up in a flash after arriving, and she’d been more than a little impressed at his efficiency in the kitchen. She’d tried to help—before and after the meal—but he’d had his own cooking rhythm and insisted he wanted her to relax. Even now, he made short work of loading the dishwasher since he’d cleaned up after himself as he cooked.
Her gaze followed him as he moved around the kitchen with a red dish towel slung over the shoulder of his white dress shirt. The strong, shadowed jaw and hint of olive skin at the base of his throat where his collar remained unbuttoned called to her fingers to stroke him there.
“Marcel and I spent a lot of time with our grandparents while we were growing up. My grandfather made his own fortune, and the equity firm I now oversee is his life’s work.” He started the dishwasher and then shut off the recessed lights in the kitchen, leaving on two pendants over the breakfast bar. “But my grandmother never lost her connection to simpler things, and she insisted Marcel and I learn how to prepare all her favorite dishes. Mostly traditional Lebanese dishes, but the frittata was something she liked to make for breakfast.”
He joined her in the living room, taking a seat on the couch beside her. Feeling his heat so close vividly reminded her of what had happened between them the last time they’d shared this couch. She felt herself blush and ducked her head toward her ginger tea to hide her face. Knowing she should leave once she finished her drink.
But it had been too long since they’d touched each other. Longer still since they’d indulged an even deeper urge. Right now, she felt very aware of every week without him. Pulling her thoughts from the physical, she refocused on Roman’s words to ground herself while she recovered her defenses. She knew his parents were celebrated academics who traveled extensively, but she hadn’t realized that they’d left Roman and Marcel with their grandparents.
“I don’t think your brother has many positive memories of your grandparents,” she observed carefully, remembering a cutting comment Marcel had made about his judgmental grandfather in particular.
“With good reason.” Roman’s dark eyes veered to hers, his tone dust-dry. “Our parents were supportive when Marcel came out as gay at sixteen, but our paternal grandparents were...not. Their behavior drove a wedge into the family that never healed.”
That was the impression she’d gotten. Only it was much worse than Roman made it sound. It wasn’t her business. And yet, she felt a surge of loyalty for Marcel. She respected his talent and applauded his tireless humanitarian efforts for marginalized people. How dare his own family withdraw love and support from him during such a vulnerable moment in his life?
“Yet you remained close to them in spite of that?” Tensing, she set the mug of ginger tea aside. “Became your grandfather’s protégé?”
“I wouldn’t categorize the relationship as close, but I also didn’t slash them out of my life. They’ll never learn tolerance, let alone acceptance, if they’re surrounded solely by people who think like they do.”
She recognized some validity in his point, but she still didn’t like thinking of Roman benefiting from the same family that had shunned Marcel.
Roman shifted on the couch beside her so that he could see her more fully. “Plus, as tempting as it might be to cut all ties with people who hurt my brother, that would have meant seeing our birthright sold off to strangers. Not just mine, but his, too. I wouldn’t have minded for my own sake, but I’d be damned if I’d see Marcel wounded emotionally and then robbed financially, too.” His scowl deepened for a moment before he let out a breath. “He deserved better than that. The stability of the equity firm gave us the capital we needed to build Zayn Designs. You see his talent. He deserves all the help I can give him.”
Hearing the obvious pride in his voice soothed some of her ruffled defensiveness. “He’s brilliant. Sometimes I have to pinch myself that I get to work so closely with someone who is destined to become a giant in the fashion industry.”
“He will be. But first and foremost, he’s my brother, and I need to tell him about the baby. Especially after the way we left together this afternoon.” Roman’s arm stretched along the back of the sofa so that he could twine his fingers in the ends of her hair. A gentle but potent gesture for the awareness it stirred. “I’m not going to deny that I like the idea of people knowing that you’re carrying my child.”
She met his dark gaze as she heard the hint of possessiveness in his voice. It shouldn’t make her senses sizzle like that if they weren’t going to have a relationship beyond shared parenting. But that didn’t stop the desire from knotting in her belly, or keep her scalp from tingling as he smoothed a lock of hair between his fingers.
“I’m aware that we’re reaching the point where I said we could start making plans.” She sounded breathless and uncertain, but it was only because his touch made her ache for something she shouldn’t want. Forcing herself to take a long breath in an attempt to relax herself, she continued with new steadiness. “The more I read about miscarriages at twelve weeks, the more reassured I am that we’ve already heard the heartbeat. It’s a good sign I never had the first time I was pregnant. Should we tell your brother about the baby together?”
“I think his first reaction will be anger with me, so it might be best for me to speak to him alone until he moves past that.” He searched her face, as if making sure she was okay with what he was suggesting. “I’ll leave it to you to arrange for a less demanding work schedule.”
She wanted to argue with him, to insist she could maintain her workload in order to squeeze all the joy out of what would most likely be her final days in a field she loved. But she knew he only wanted to do what was best for the baby, and so did she. Which meant safeguarding her energy and her health. No doubt she’d been putting in long hours for months, and she needed to be better about respecting her body’s limitations.
“All right. That sounds fair,” she agreed after a moment, sitting forward on the couch to pick up the mug of tea again.
Her hair fell from his grasp as she leaned forward, breaking their connection.
“Thank you. This is good progress.” His strong jaw flexed and relaxed over and over again in the pause afterward, until he finally went on. “Have you given any more thought to moving in with me once I secure an apartment in New York?”
She swallowed hard against the indecision that welled inside her. “Roman—”
He plowed right over the rest of her words, laying out his case. “I’ve already looked at some spaces, and have a few four-bedrooms in mind that might work well. There’s one available in this building, but I wasn’t sure how you felt about being that close to my parents once they return to town.”
“Four bedrooms?” She couldn’t even imagine what something like that cost in Manhattan. The building they were in was one of the most expensive in the city.
“We’d need a third for a nursery, and I thought a fourth would be wise so that we’d have an option for live-in help.”
She was already shaking her head at the thought of residing in such close proximity to Roman. Just seeing him this evening felt fraught with tension as she battled her own urges. What would it be like to see him daily, in a private, intimate setting like a home where he might walk around the house without a shirt on?
Roman frowned, stroking along her arm. “Don’t dismiss the idea until we see what it’s like to have a newborn. You might be glad for a part-time nanny—”
“No.” She shook her head more, pulling herself to her feet with the need to excise the jittery, anxious energy running through her. “I’m not arguing about the idea of live-in help. I’m saying no to living together. It won’t work, Roman.”
She took a lap around the windows of the curved great room, staying close to the perimeter where she could look out at the view of the city instead of the compelling man on the sofa. Her heels tapped softly over the hard
wood.
She felt Roman’s gaze follow her.
“It won’t work to be in the same physical space as our child, so that there are at least two of us to answer the baby’s needs, if not three? It’s an exhausting business for the first year, Sable. This way we wouldn’t be shuttling the baby around the city. Think how much safer and healthier it is for the child to be in one place.” He hadn’t moved from his spot on the sofa, giving her space to process what he was saying.
“You make it sound so reasonable. So easy.” She reached the dining table in her pacing route and paused to look at him, his strong profile backlit by the skyline view behind him. “But since I could never afford my share of that lifestyle, I wouldn’t feel at home—”
“You’re bringing a child into the world. I think that more than evens out what we’re offering.” The deep sound of sincerity in his voice exerted a magnetic pull on her, drawing her inexorably toward this man.
“A child you never asked for or expected,” she reminded him, folding her arms to try and shield herself from that pull.
“Neither did you, but here we are, and we both want the same thing. To be a part of this baby’s life. To know the joys of being a parent.” He rose to his feet, and her heart thudded harder with each footstep he took toward her. He stopped mere inches from her, his fingers reaching up to stroke over her cheek. “I told you about losing my wife. I thought the chance to be a father died with her since I’ll never marry again.”
Sable’s breath caught sharply at the stark admission of his love for another woman. But she stifled the gasp, biting her lip to hold it back while his thumb caressed the soft place under her chin. When he spoke again, his voice was as persuasive as that touch.
“You’re giving me something far more precious than any piece of real estate.”
Despite all her efforts to reinforce her defenses around this man, Sable felt them melt into a puddle. Or maybe she was the one doing the melting. Everything inside her went soft and warm under the combined spell of his words and his light stroke over her skin.
“I never thought about it that way.” Was it crazy of her to consider it when the need for him overwhelmed everything else? “Can I let you know at the ultrasound appointment? When I’m not so—”
She should make the decision when she was clearheaded. When she wasn’t anticipating the feel of Roman’s mouth on hers. The ultrasound was just three days away. Time enough for her to commit to where to go next.
His silken caress paused as he tilted her chin up to look at her. “When you’re not so what?”
They were standing close enough now that each time she dragged in a breath, her breasts grazed his chest. The feel of him, hot and solid against her, tantalized her.
“When I’m not under the influence of your touch? Of your hands that I want all over me?” She blurted the truth in a rush.
She’d thought he might kiss her then, crush his lips to hers and end this conversation that had her hormones and emotions swinging wildly. But he only tipped his forehead to hers, wrapping his hand around the back of her neck to encourage her gaze.
His eyes were so dark she could hardly see the brown ring around the rims.
“Okay. But keep in mind that we’ve already tried staying apart, Sable. We’ve done that, and it’s only brought us right here, breathing each other in, dying to tear each other’s clothes off so I can get inside you.”
* * *
Roman watched Sable, half expecting her to contradict him.
He’d told her what he wanted, after recognizing all her cues that suggested she hungered for the same thing.
But pointing out that they both wanted this was a double-edged sword. For reasons he didn’t fully comprehend, she had been avoiding the physical attraction. Even when the need was a red flush in her cheeks, a pulse throbbing double time at the base of her throat, and the rocking of her hips toward his, she was hesitant.
So he held himself very still, watching while her hazel eyes smoked with awareness. Her gaze traveled over him as if she was already imagining him without the barrier of clothing. Heat streaked up his spine.
“Last time we were here,” he reminded her, still hoping to draw words from her that would give them both what they craved, “you wondered if intimacy would make it difficult to be objective about what happens next. Do you remember?”
“I do. I still don’t have an answer to that.” There was a husky quality to her voice that turned him inside out, even as he feared she would retreat from him again.
“All the more reason I need to know what you want to happen tonight.” He was already strung tight, and the conversation made it worse. “Should I touch you, so we both feel better? Or take you home now in the hope of...” he ground his teeth in frustration, before forcing himself to finish the thought “...objectivity?”
Her lashes lowered, shutting him out while she seemed to weigh his words. He steeled himself for her answer. For another night without her in his bed.
When she peered up at him again, a determined glint in her eyes told him she’d made her decision.
“I want to stay.” She licked her lips, then hauled in a deep breath before admitting in a lower voice, “I need you.”
The words leveled him.
No, she leveled him.
Right then, he vowed to do everything in his power to make sure she didn’t regret sharing that moment of vulnerability. Because damn, hearing the raw truth fed something inside him that he hadn’t even realized was starved to hear it.
He wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her close so her soft curves molded to him. Something about her smelled lemony and sweet. Her hair, maybe. Or her skin. He wanted that fragrance all over him.
“I need you, too,” he assured her, stroking up her back to find the zipper of her pink crepe dress. “I’ve dreamed about touching you every night since that first time.” Lowering the zipper, he parted the fabric slowly while he looked into her eyes. “Every. Single. Night.”
A shiver trembled through her as the material began to slip off her shoulders.
“My skin—all of me—is so sensitive now.” Her lashes fluttered against her cheek. “Just having the dress brush against my body teases me.”
Head thrown back, lips parted, she looked like a fantasy with her dress ready to slide off her exquisite curves, glossy dark hair spilling down her back. But with the city lights flooding through the floor-to-ceiling windows, he felt exposed. He wasn’t willing to share the sight of this incredible woman with anyone who happened to glance into the apartment’s living room.
“I’m going to take care of that. Come with me.” Not giving her a chance to answer, he lifted her higher against him, so her feet dangled a few inches from the floor.
He kissed her as he carried her through the apartment to the guest bedroom he’d claimed as his own. The blinds were already lowered, the only light coming from a high-tech chandelier that he dialed to the lowest setting as he set Sable on her feet, never breaking the kiss.
Her fingers worked the buttons of his shirt while he walked her backward toward the low platform bed that dominated the space. He tugged her already loosened dress down and off her body, catching the slippery pink crepe in one hand as she stepped out of it. He draped it over a tan leather chaise that served as the room’s only other furniture, then peeled his shirt off the rest of the way. He could see that her gaze was avid even in the half-light, following his every movement.
It felt like forever since he’d touched her, and he couldn’t wait another second. Flicking open the clasp of the pink satin bra that hugged her breasts, he took the soft weights in his hands, bringing each to his mouth in turn to kiss, lick and suck. Her back arched, fingers combing restlessly through his hair, holding him where she needed him as her hungry moans fueled a fire already scorching him.
“Please, please, please,” she chanted, hi
ps rocking so they pressed tighter to his.
Damn near blinding him with lust.
He hooked a finger in her pink satin panties, dragging them down and off her hips until she was fully naked. It was a sexy vision he knew he would replay often in his mind. But right now, he needed to make her feel good, to take the edge off all the hunger that had mounted over these last weeks.
Lowering himself to sit on the edge of the mattress, he drew Sable down on top of him so she straddled his hips. With a gasp, she rocked against him while he withdrew his wallet from his pants to retrieve the condom he kept there. She stilled his hand before he could open it, however.
“I’m clean,” she whispered against his ear. “And already pregnant.”
The thought of touching her that way—with zero barrier between them—took hold fast, creating a sharp hunger for something he would have never allowed himself to consider in other circumstances.
“I’m clean, too. You’re the only woman I’ve been with since I was last tested.” And then, of course, they’d used a condom.
Even though it hadn’t protected her from getting pregnant.
“It’s up to you.” She let go of his hand, allowing him to decide whether or not to skip the protection. “But I wanted you to know I’m okay with not using anything.”
Dropping the condom on the bed, he moved his hand to his fly. She joined her efforts to his, and they freed him a moment later, her fingers circling him. Stroking him.
Just that light touch had him seeing stars every time he blinked. Or maybe it was knowing that he was going to be inside her with nothing to dull the sensation of all that feminine heat.
Gripping her thighs, he lifted her so she was poised over him. Then he lowered her slowly, easing his way inside her until they both groaned at the contact.
She clamped her legs tight around his waist, holding him there while she pressed herself close against him. He licked a path up her neck, the lemon scent of her skin intensifying with the heat of his kiss. She shuddered, the roll of her hips reminding him of her new, heightened sensitivity. Testing that sensitivity, he molded a breast in his hand, running his thumb back and forth over the taut peak. When her breath caught, he transferred his lips to her nipple, drawing it into his mouth. He used his thumb to trace her feminine folds, circling the tight bud between her legs.