My insides flutter. “It’s okay. You can say it again.”
“You look stunning,” he says as we reach the entryway, and I swear he’s going to tug me in close for a kiss right here on the street as the sun slips closer to the horizon, pulling the day into night.
The doorman greets us with a crisp hello.
Miles clears his throat and says thank you, and I tell the man where we’re headed. He checks a list and sends me to the elevator.
Inside the lift, Miles slinks his hand around my waist.
I tingle.
His fingers trace lines along my dress.
I crackle.
His hand dips lower on my back, skirting close to my butt.
I want to throw in the towel and take off the dress.
I try to reroute all my thoughts to real estate. To this new building, and my new elevator, and the new place I’ll soon live in. After all, is there any bigger turn-on in this city than square footage? I think not. “My new home is six hundred fifty square feet,” I say, and it comes out breathy, as if I’ve been seduced by an apartment.
Well, yeah.
A two-bedroom on the Upper East Side equals instant arousal.
“That’s great,” he says.
“Lots of space,” I add, staring straight ahead because if I look at him, I might slam my fist on the red emergency button and learn if elevator sex is all that.
My hand itches to hit that button.
Behave, I warn it.
Somehow we make it to Genevieve’s floor, and we’re swept into a flurry of coiffed hair and canapés.
“So glad to see you. And Daisy and Betsy can’t wait to say hello too,” Genevieve says, then makes eye contact with Miles. “Oh, hello,” she says, blinking.
I make the introduction officially. “This is Miles Hart.”
He takes her hand and kisses the top of it. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
He nods to me. “I’m with Roxy.”
It’s patently obvious he’s with me, but still, I love that he’s declared it.
Genevieve offers us champagne then realizes immediately I can’t have any. “Let me get you some lemonade or sparkling water.”
“Lemonade would be great.”
She asks a waiter to bring us the drinks as she chats with Miles about his music. “My daughter shrieked when she heard the Heartbreakers were getting back together.”
His smile is wide and genuine. “We love nothing better than a good shriek.”
“And I have a confession to make. I find myself singing along to your music when I hear it at the gym.”
“I don’t even have to absolve you of that, since that’s definitely not a sin.”
She laughs lightly then tells me the cleaning crew should be finished with my new place tomorrow morning. “Do you want to come by and see how everything looks in the afternoon before you sign?”
“I’d love to,” I say, practically bouncing. “I can finally start figuring out my decorating plans.”
“Will they be pink or blue, or do we not know yet?” Genevieve asks.
“Pink,” I tell her, and she squeaks in excitement.
She introduces me to others on the co-op board, as well as residents of the building, and Miles and I make small talk with them. He’s so smooth and easy as he chats, and I’m grateful to have him by my side.
“Thank you again for coming with me tonight,” I say when we snag a break in the chitchat.
“I’m glad you asked—”
I squeak as someone rides the roller-coaster in my belly.
“What is it?” he asks curiously.
With a sly smile, I take his hand and set it on my stomach. “The lemonade. All that sugar made Luminara dance.”
He spreads his fingers over my bump, waiting for her to ride the car up and down the tracks. She kicks again, and his blue eyes sparkle, and he murmurs, “Holy shit. That’s incredible.”
“She’s having a party.”
As she dances a jig in my belly, he keeps his hand firmly in place, a patient yet eager look in his eyes.
For a split second, I let scenarios unfold as I imagine words I might say to him.
She’s saying hello.
She likes you.
I like you.
I’m falling in love with you.
My heart slams into my rib cage, banging its fists on my chest, as this new world order begs for my attention. All these months, all this time, Miles hasn’t been my plus-one. He’s been the man by my side, and I’ve been falling in love with him. My throat hurts, and I want so badly to say the words, but I can’t and I won’t because that’s not who we are.
He’s made it clear he’s not interested in love. He’s been burned badly, with the third-degree scars to prove it. If I were him, I’d stay far away from anything resembling that fire—like a pregnant woman. The last woman like me in his life abandoned him and his son.
As I stare into his eyes, our words from a few months ago in the limo resonate.
“I bet you don’t ever want to get involved with anyone again.”
“That’s safe to say, and I haven’t been involved since he was born.”
I will clasp those words tightly, clutch them close tonight. Whatever happens, I need to remember it’s a moment. It’s not a promise.
But it’s a moment where his hands are on my belly, and I’m going to savor every second of it.
“I like feeling her move,” he whispers, and it’s possible I’ve become the living, breathing definition of the word “swoon.”
“It’s magic,” I say, breathlessly.
He dusts the softest kiss to my cheek. “It is.” Goose bumps rise on my flesh. He angles closer to my ear. “And I really need to get you out of this dress tonight, Roxy. Please say yes.”
I sizzle from head to toe. Every molecule in me is turned inside out and all the way on. I shiver as his lips brush ever so gently against my ear. “It’s been yes for a long time, Miles.”
25
Miles
The doors to the elevator in my building slide shut, and I grab my woman.
Clasping her face, I slant my mouth to hers, tasting lemonade, lip gloss, and hunger.
Her tongue slides between my lips, and my brain turns into a pinball machine, whirring and buzzing, noises and sirens and lights flashing. Soon, I’m going to hit the high score on this game. I can feel it in the way my mouth crushes hers, in the way she claims me right back, as if months of pent-up desire have been pulled and stretched into this moment and neither one of us can stop.
I cage her against the wall as the elevator rises in a soft chug, chug, chug.
I kiss her hot and hard and hungry like we did at the reunion, yet it’s a completely different kiss.
Because it’s a powder keg. It’s fueled by the dynamite of the last few months. It’s forged by how much more I’ve wanted to kiss her every single day. That first kiss was a shock-me one. This is a take-me kiss, and I can feel her saying that—take me—in every slide and press of her lips. It’s purposeful and deliberate and so fucking clear this kiss is not ending. It’s a kiss that will go all the way tonight.
We reach my floor and stumble out in a tangle of twined limbs and tousled hair. I slide my key into the lock, and once we’re inside my place, I undo the clip in her hair, letting all those red strands waterfall around my fingers. I swipe my hands through the silky curtain, pulling her hair up, holding it in my grasp. I stare into her eyes, and hers blaze with rampant desire. “I have wanted to fuck you since I met you,” I tell her, and it’s like I just lowered a 250-pound weight. I don’t need to hold that truth inside me any longer. I want her to know this desire has been building for a long time.
She smiles wickedly at me. “You do have a one-track mind.”
“I have many tracks when it comes to you.”
She whispers, “I know.”
“But this track definitely has you naked, legs parted, and calling my name.”
She moans as she drags her fingers along the buttons of my shirt, her touch making my skin sizzle. “I bet your name would feel so good on my lips in that scenario.”
This woman. I’m vibrating with desire for her, for her mouth, her words, her beautiful body.
“And I bet you would taste so good on my mouth,” I say as I let go of her hair so I can run a hand along the fabric of her dress over her thigh.
She gasps then grabs my collar, yanking me closer. But her expression shifts as her eyes drift toward her belly. “Are you sure?” she asks nervously.
“Sweetheart,” I tell her, cupping her cheek, “I’m so fucking sure. Let me show you how sure I am.”
I slide my hands over her breasts, my dick trying valiantly to hammer its way out of my pants, the determined fucker. Groaning hungrily, I cup those glorious beauties then slide my hands down to her stomach because she needs the reassurance and she deserves it.
With my hands splayed over her bump, I look into her eyes. “You have never been hotter. And that’s saying something because you’ve been a complete and absolute goddess since the night I met you.”
Her lips part, and I swear I can feel heat radiating from her. I want to spend the entire night turning her on. Making her feel amazing. Making her come.
Her hand slides between my legs, and she palms my hard-on. I hiss, and it sounds feral. Wanton. I feel that way with her hand on my aching erection.
“It’s hard for me to believe you really want me like this,” she whispers, vulnerability wrapping itself around her words.
I push against her palm. “Does this help you get religion about it?”
She laughs, and I fucking love that she’s laughing with my dick in her hands and that I’m laughing too.
“I believe, I believe,” she says like a churchgoer, squeezing me then letting out a sexy murmur. “And the fact that you do feel that way has me going crazy inside.”
I grab her ass, tug her closer to me. “Let’s go crazy together.”
She nods savagely. Fiercely. I spin her around, her back to my front. I walk her into my bedroom, kissing her neck as I go, feeling her shiver in my arms. “You’re a live wire.”
“Hormones,” she answers, breathlessly.
I go fishing for compliments. “It’s not me?”
She laughs as we reach the doorway, and she spins around and grabs the collar of my shirt. “You plus hormones means it’ll be very easy for me to go off like a rocket.” Her eyes twinkle with mischief.
A groan rumbles up my chest. “Then if it’s so easy, let’s make it a dozen orgasms.”
We reach my bed, neatly made and about to become a playground for all the things I can finally—fucking finally—do to her body.
Her hands slink around my neck, and my bones hum with desire. Every move she makes is seduction, whether she realizes it or not. It’s just who she is to me. My hands find the zipper on the back of her dress, and I slide it down, letting the fabric fall from her shoulders, kissing her skin as I go, heat rising as I savor the softness of her flesh.
I slide down the straps of her dress, so the top falls below her breasts. I unhook her strapless bra easily, and I groan a ridiculously loud noise of approval.
“Sweetheart, you’re so beautiful.” I’m ready to get down on my knees and thank the good Lord. Her tits are glorious, magnificent teardrops with rosy nipples, and they’re so full. My hands dart out of their own volition. The need to touch them is too great. The second I make contact, her eyes flutter closed, her lips fall open, and she whispers my name again, all breathy and hot.
“Told you I was a boobs man.” I kiss her jaw. “Maybe this makes me a pig, but I was checking out your chest even before you were pregnant.”
“Then I guess I’ll let you keep playing with them,” she says, and she’s grinning, and that smile—hell, it makes me happy she gets it. That she understands I’ve always been attracted to her, and the changes in her body don’t repel me—they compel me to get even closer.
Maybe because I feel connected to her, with all that we’ve shared in the last few months. And I want to get closer in every way. I don’t know if she’ll let me have more, though, so I do my damnedest to focus on what’s in front of me.
Her beautiful body, lush and full and mine.
Mine.
I feel like she belongs to me. I want her to belong to only me.
For a second, I wonder how long I’ll be able to touch her like this, how long this will last. If this is a one-night thing or if it could be more. I want so much more, even though I know it’d turn my life upside down and inside out. But then I tell myself to enjoy this night for what it is, and I slide the zipper down the rest of the way, letting the dress fall over her belly to her waist. Her eyes have a nervous sheen I haven’t seen before. Like she needs to know I like how she looks with all her curves.
I kiss her lips because I love how she looks.
The dress falls off, hitting the floor, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone more beautiful. My eyes travel up and down her body, memorizing her curves, her lushness, her hips. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
She swallows and clasps her hands to my face. “You have to stop saying that.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re not giving me a chance to tell you how attracted I am to you.”
Grinning wickedly, I slide my hand between her legs, my fingers gliding over the soaked panel of her panties. “How about you show me by coming on my face?”
26
Roxy
Six months ago, if someone had asked me if I’d be lying naked on Miles Hart’s bed, my big belly making it almost impossible for me to see his face between my legs, I’d have laughed.
I’m not laughing now. I’m moaning and panting and sighing.
I don’t think I’ve stopped making noise. Not since he peeled off my wet panties, not since he placed his palms on my thighs, and not since he spread my legs.
Leaning on my elbows, I try my best to watch, because this is straight from my wet dreams. This is one of my leading late-night fantasies.
Miles’s dark-blond hair between my thighs, his mouth on me, his tongue licking the most delirious lines up and down my aching center—it’s like a fevered dream, and I’m hot everywhere. I’m sparking all over my skin.
He slides his tongue across my heat, and I cry out, arching into his face.
“God, yes, please,” I mutter.
He murmurs something incoherent as he flicks his tongue faster, more intently, and I feel like a rocket in a cartoon. The tail’s been lit, and it’s flickering fast, urgently, speeding till it shoots off into the sky.
That rocket is me. I reach for him, for his hair, his hands, something, anything as pleasure rattles through me. His hands clasp mine, and I grip his fingers as he devours me, hitting me just right, so right that I fly into the stratosphere.
“Oh God,” I groan, as pleasure pulses wildly in my center, and I come hard in seconds.
He slows his pace, kissing gently, tenderly, then crawls up me, stopping to press a kiss to my belly. “One down. Eleven to go. Will this next one be easy too?”
I’m still seeing orgasm stars as he thrusts two fingers inside me, fucking me as he strokes me with his thumb. He moves around me, so we’re face-to-face, and his long, talented fingers are so deep inside me I’m clenching around them.
“You’re still dressed,” I pant and reach for his buttons, but I fumble as I try to undo them because it feels so good.
So unbelievably good.
To have this man stroking me to the edge is a decadent thrill. I manage one button on his shirt, then another, before a moan overtakes my mouth then spreads through my whole body. I grab his arm, grip hard, and cry out his name as I come again, my brain blurring into a neon haze of lust and desire and the most intense pleasure I’ve ever felt.
I’m warm and relaxed all over, but I’m also not sated. I want more. So much more.
When I come down f
rom the high, I sit up to undress him and find he’s already done the job, and my mouth waters at the view.
Holy hell.
Miles is gorgeous naked.
We’re talking a statue of David level of male beauty. He’s carved and cut, with a beautiful cock that curves just right and is the kind of size I want to fist, and lick, and ride.
I stretch out my hand. “Let me touch you.”
He’s inches away, and he obliges, standing in front of me, proud and erect.
The skin is velvet-smooth, and he’s like steel underneath. The way he groans when I touch him sends a wild thrill through me. He’s been pleasuring me so far, but now, as I grip his glorious cock in my hands, I can experience completely what I’ve done to him.
What we do to each other.
The room is thick with want. The desire between us crackles. All this energy, all this lust—it sizzles and snaps, and as I slide my thumb over the head of his cock, spreading a drop of liquid, he curses.
“Fuck, Roxy. I need to get inside you. Need to make love to you. Need to bury myself in you.”
The range of his words makes my heart flip and my insides heat. Fuck me, make love to me, have me. Do all of that, I want to say. You’re the only one who can.
“How do you want to do it?” I ask, because other words are too hard to say.
He steps away from me, strides across his room, giving me an amazing view of a succulent ass I want to bite and nibble on, and he opens the door to his closet.
“What are you doing?”
But when the door is all the way open the answer is clear. There’s a full-length mirror on the inside.
He returns and flips me onto my hands and knees. “This position will be best right now, don’t you think?”
“Everything sounds good right now,” I say, staring at us, at me on all fours, curvy and full, and him kneeling behind me, lean and sinewy.
He spreads my cheeks, and I shiver. “I want to watch us, Roxy.”
“Oh God,” I groan, and he’s not even inside me, but holy fuck, look at him.
His face is so full of lust. His eyes are fiery blue pools of desire. He stares down at me, positioned like an animal, like I’m both the object of his greatest desire and the woman he covets.
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