The Baby Race

by Tara Wylde

  “If privacy and quiet is so important to you, how will you cope with having a child in your life? I’m not an expert on child rearing, but even I know that they don’t respect boundaries and that the only time they’re quiet is when they’re getting into trouble.”

  Jeremy sips his wine. His gaze captures mine. “I know that the whole point of this dinner was to discuss our … potential arrangement, but could we table it for a little while? Maybe use this time to get to know one another.”

  I can see his point. This meal is way too good to spoil with a discussion that will most likely end in bitterness and tears. I’ve thought of little else all day and I still don’t know what to do.

  “Okay,” I agree.

  Jeremy cuts his potato in half and covers it with a generous layer of sour cream. “What made you decide to become a florist?”

  “I’ve always liked flowers. When I was sixteen, my 4-H club leader got me a job working part time at a flower shop. After leaving high school, I studied horticulture and design at community college. I managed to get a good job with a landscaper. Once I saved up enough money, I bought my shop.”

  Jeremy cuts into his steak. “It looks like you’ve been successful.”

  I take another sip of wine, letting the liquid sit on my tongue for a moment, savoring the exotic flavor before letting it slide down my throat.

  “I’ve stayed on top of my bills and enjoyed a small profit.”

  Sasha finishes the dry kibble Jeremy gave her and makes her way to the table. She winds her soft body around my legs and purrs loudly. “Why do you volunteer at an animal shelter?”

  “I wanted to be a veterinarian.”

  I gape at him. “Seriously?”

  He nods. “Yep. When I graduated top of my high school class, my parents concocted this grand scheme. They figured I’d become a doctor, taking care of humans, and Evan would run Caldwell industries.”

  “But you didn’t go to medical school?”

  “I took pre-med and liked the classes, but couldn’t get excited about the idea of treating humans. But animals, I’ve always liked them. I had this big plan to start a low-income practice and treat all these animals for rock-bottom prices.”

  “How’d your parents handle the career change?”

  Jeremy grimaces. “Not well. My mom, she was disappointed, but my dad was livid. He spent weeks storming around the place, ranting and raving, threatening to disown me. He even looked into ways to block my schooling, but since I’d already come into my grandfather’s trust money, there wasn’t much he could do.”

  I try to picture him working on an injured dog or cat, soothing the animal while explaining the situation to the owners. The image is surprisingly easy to conjure. “Why did you change your mind?”

  All warmth fades from Jeremy’s expression. “My dad had a stroke, and wasn’t well enough to handle Caldwell Industries. That wasn’t a problem since Evan was already there, working as the company’s vice president. He simply moved into my dad’s office. Then, a year later, he had his accident. I’d just started my first internship, but I put that on hold and went into Caldwell. My plan was to take steps to have someone else run it and then finish up my internship and become a vet. But things didn’t work out like I’d hoped.”

  My mind flashes to my current situation, to the tough choices we have to make. “Sometimes fate has a way of stepping in and screwing up the best laid plans.”

  “That’s the truth.” Jeremy stands and picks up his own plate. He nods toward mine. “Finished?”

  I look down, startled to find only the potato skin remaining on the plate. I was so engrossed in his story, I didn’t notice I’d demolished my dinner. “Looks that way.”

  He picks up my plate and starts walking toward the sink.

  “Hang on.” I jump to my feet and follow him. “You did all the cooking, it’s only fair that I should wash dishes.”

  Jeremy shoots a look over his shoulder. Amusement dances in his eyes. “You’re a guest, so that means you don’t have to do anything but sit back, relax, and keep me company.”

  My brow furrows. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

  “It doesn’t take much effort to load a dishwasher.” As if to prove his point, Jeremy pops the appliance door open and loads our plates inside. “But, if it makes you feel better, if you decide to take me up on my offer and become my wife, I promise to let you wash the dishes each and every night.”

  His wife.

  Maybe it’s the wine, or maybe it’s the idea that he loves animals and once dreamed of taking care of them, or maybe it’s just the fact that it’s been so long since a man, a kind man, has paid any attention to me, but the idea of marrying this man, of having his baby so that he can retain control of Caldwell Industries, suddenly doesn’t seem so insane.

  In fact, it’s starting to sound like a pretty good idea.

  “Jeremy…” My voice is so soft I’m afraid that maybe he doesn’t hear me, but his head snaps around.

  “Yeah?”

  I lick my lower lip. His eyes narrow and track the movement. “Would you do me a favor?”

  “Maybe. Depends on what the favor is.”

  “Will you kiss me?”

  He doesn’t need to be told twice.

  He dips his head, taking my lips in a gentle kiss that sends tiny shivers of anticipation shooting all the way to my toes. Without breaking the kiss, he wraps his arms around my waist, lifting me up and placing me on the countertop. He adjusts my position until I’m flat on my back. He rains light kisses along the side of my jaw as he settles beside me, tugging my body tightly against his.

  With a low growl, he releases my lips. He stares into my eyes, asking silent questions that I don’t completely understand. I don’t need to understand. The only thing that matters is that I crave his touch, his taste, even more than I do the very air I breathe.

  I lift my hand, surprised to find it trembling, and cup his cheek.

  “I’d like to do that again,” he murmurs, his lips hovering a hair’s breadth from my own. Desire thickens his voice. “But if I do, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

  “I don’t want you to,” I whisper, my own voice heavy with the same desire.

  10

  Caitlin

  His hands clutch my hips, his own moving between my thighs as he bends closer, his torso flattening against mine, pressing me more firmly against the counter. My fingers tangle in his hair as his mouth plunders mine.

  It feels so right. Natural in a way I’ve never experienced before. Instead of the awkwardness, the nervousness that’s always made it impossible for me to move past this point with any of the men who’ve kissed me in the past, I finally feel free to release the death grip I’ve always maintained on my self-control and lose myself in the sensations he’s stoking with his expert touch and intoxicating mouth.

  The sounds of pleasure coming from somewhere deep in his throat set fire to my blood as much as his taste. They chase away my doubts and the shyness I’ve always experienced in the past.

  I explore his mouth, savoring the slight bite of the wine that clings to the warm flesh.

  Jeremy straightens, moving off of me, not giving me a chance to adjust to the sudden loss of his warmth before his arms curl around me, pulling me off the counter. Carrying me as easily as he would Sasha, he moves with long, purposeful strides through his large apartment to his bedroom, where he sets me free.

  He reaches up, cupping his big hand around my cheek. I lean into his touch, both needing it and craving more.

  He stares at me, his expression half-smiling and half-quizzical. Something about it makes me wonder if he knows, if he somehow senses my inexperience even though I hadn’t – would never – tell him.

  “Are you sure?” he whispers. “Is this what you want?”

  Yes. No. I’m really not sure. Were it not for the wine singing through my veins, I probably would take this opportunity to bolt, just like I have every other time I’ve come this far.
>
  But I’m tired of wondering. I’m tired of waiting. I’m tired of running. And the funny thing is, even though I’ve only known Jeremy for a little while, even though he’s about as far removed from the guys I’ve always dated as anything imaginable, I trust him more than I have ever trusted anyone. Just this one time, I want to lose myself in the heat of the moment, and Jeremy seems like the perfect person to lose myself with.

  I trace his lips with the pad of my thumb, marveling at how soft they are. “I want you,” I whisper, delighting in how his eyes darken at my words. “I want this. I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything else in my life.”

  His fingers dig into my arms as he bows his head. The kiss is different than the ones before it. Deeper, pushing me closer to something hotter and more tantalizing than I’ve ever experienced before. My hands glide up his chest, exploring his well-developed muscles through his shirt before I loop my arms around his neck.

  “What do you like?” he murmurs against my mouth, his breath fanning across my cheeks and ruffling my hair.

  Uh oh, that’s not a good question. Since I won’t know what I like until I’ve experienced it, I opt for the safe answer. One that won’t make him stop touching me, kissing me.

  I sweep my fingers back and forth against the soft skin on the back of his neck, delighting in how the simply action makes him shiver. “I like all the same things you do.”

  Chuckling, he kisses my hair. “That simplifies things.”

  His hands aren’t quite steady as he reaches for the bottom of my long-sleeved T-shirt, slowly drawing it upwards, revealing my flat stomach and the ridges created by my ribs one slow inch at a time, until he finally tugs the garment over my head and tosses it across the room.

  He steps back a little, taking advantage of the light spilling into the bedroom to conduct a visual exploration.

  The weight of his gaze makes me shiver. Had I had even an inkling that his offer of dinner would have ended this way, I’d have taken a little more time getting dressed, opted for the pretty peach Victoria’s Secret number I treated myself to last year instead of my faithful battered sports bra.

  “Gorgeous,” Jeremy whispers, bowing his head and trailing a line of butterfly kisses along my collar bone, not stopping until his lips encounter my bra strap. “Simply stunning.”

  I’m certain he’s lying—.this is a man with the money, looks, and personality to date any woman in the world – but I can’t bring myself to care. His words might not be true, but that doesn’t stop them from sending a searing bolt of confidence through me. They’re exactly what I need to hear right now.

  Fingers trembling, I catch hold of the bottom of his sweatshirt and push it upwards until it slides over his head. I let it fall to the floor and swallow. His torso is more finely honed, more chiseled than any of the celebrities I’ve drooled over. He has the body of a Greek god and for tonight, it’s all mine.

  Unable to resist, I drop a kiss to the middle of his sternum, relishing the faint taste of salt. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  My hands have a mind of their own. Before I even fully grasp what they’re doing, they’ve reached for his waistband and worked the button of his jeans free. Above my hands, his stomach muscles quiver. I wonder whether it’s the result of barely contained lust or anticipation. I don’t really care. The only thing I care about is that his body is having such a strong reaction to me. I never dreamt I could have such an impact on any man – let alone this one.

  His hands come up, fisting in my hair, holding me still for a hard, quick kiss. “You’re fucking driving me crazy,” he breathes into my mouth. “Do you know that?”

  “I’m starting to figure that out.” I grin against his lips. “And I like it.”

  Moving with more confidence, more purpose, I lower his zipper and push his jeans down over his hips, letting them pool around his ankles. His cock strains against the front of his bright white briefs. The sight causes me to falter.

  I’ve come this far, there’s no way I’m running now – but I don’t have the faintest idea what I should do next. And what if he finds out that I have zero experience past this point? Would it turn him on or – or – maybe appall him, and make him throw me out of his apartment? A brief hint of panic rises, and it takes a second before I’m able to bite it back down.

  The mental image of being tossed out in my current state gives me the boost I need, and I reach for his briefs. Before my fingertips brush against the white cotton, his hands slide down my arms until his fingers bracket around my wrists, holding them in place.

  Heart pounding, I lift my head, my gaze capturing his. His eyes burn with passion. His breathing is ragged. Sweat beads on his pectoral muscles. “Jeremy?” My voice shakes. “Did I do something wrong?”

  He shakes his head and draws in one deep breath, followed by another. “No, I just need a second.” He releases my hands and reaches for my waistband. “I seem to be running behind.”

  Startled by the feel of his hands, I draw in a deep breath and suck in my stomach. I wait for the bright flash of panic, but for the first time it doesn’t come. For the first time in my life, I’m willing to relax. To trust.

  My pants slide down my legs, followed almost instantaneously by my panties. Jeremy’s big body presses against mine, urging me backwards toward the bed while his hands slowly roll my bra upward, freeing my aching breasts.

  And his lips. God. They never rest. The man’s mouth is all over me, and each place his lips and tongue touch burns, the blood pounding painfully just below the skin.

  I strain against him, even as he urges me backwards onto the mattress, begging for more of his attention.

  “Easy, Caitlin,” he murmurs. The mattress crumples beneath our combined weights. The silk bedspread is cool, soothing, against my overheated skin.

  He spreads his body across mine and all my muscles turn to water. I never would have thought the simple feel of flesh against flesh could feel so good, so natural. Wanting more and not knowing quite how to get it, I run my hands up and down his back, scraping my nails lightly against his skin as I squirm beneath him.

  Laughing against my mouth, he works a hand between us, cupping my most intimate spot, the touch causing the flame that started burning within me when he kissed me in the kitchen to erupt into an inferno.

  “Jeremy,” I gasp his name against his lips as my nails bite into his rock-hard muscles and my body arches and bucks beneath his.

  Needing air, I break the kiss, inhaling deeply before I begin peppering his jaw with kisses, occasionally nipping, only to soothe the tormented skin with the tip of my tongue.

  “Caitlin,” he groans before lowering his head to my breasts. His fingers rub the side swell, massaging deeply as his tongue flicks across my nipple, lavishing attention on it until it’s diamond hard before moving to its twin and repeating the process. Through it all, his hand never moves. Not to explore and not to ease up on the incredible pressure.

  The more attention he lays upon my chest, the more aware I become of his hands between my thighs. I squirm against it, loving the pressure even as I wish he’d back off.

  The hand he was using to hold my breasts in place for his mouth moves, sliding up and over my chest, gliding along the line of my throat, and catching me about the chin. He taps his index finger against my cheekbone until I finally meet his eyes.

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  11

  Jeremy

  Asking her if she wants me to stop is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’m more turned on now than I’ve ever been before in my life. If she tells me to stop, I’ll move heaven and hell to do so, but there’s no doubt in my mind that doing so would leave me a broken man.

  I don’t know what it is about Caitlin, but I’ve never wanted … no needed, a woman as badly as I need her.

  I run my hands up and down her sides, delighting in the way this simple touch makes her shiver and sigh. Intrigued by her little sounds of pleasure, I fit my mouth to h
ers, loving how the tip of her tongue brushes against mine as they dance together. With each stroke of her tongue, a fresh wave of blood rushes to my cock, making it jump and twitch as it swells to a seemingly impossible size. I can’t remember a single time when I’ve ever been so hard, so turned on in my entire life.

  She squirms beneath me, moisture saturating the hand I’ve planted against her core, reminding me of all the things I’ve yet to do to her. Of the peaks of pleasure I’m going to carry her to – and then toss her off of, into a burning core of desire.

  “Caitlin,” I repeat. “Open your eyes.” I want to look deep into her beautiful green eyes, to see everything she feels as I claim her as my own. I need to know that she’s right here with me, that this is affecting her just as deeply as it is me.

  She’s slow to respond to my request, but finally her lashes flutter. That’s all I need.

  “Do you want me to stop?” Uttering those words is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Every iota of my body wants to sink into her, to make her mine, body and soul. But I need her to understand that we’re pushing against the point of no return.

  She doesn’t respond, just stares up at me with desire glazed eyes. I shift closer, until my breath washes over her hair. I caress her cheek before capturing her chin between my fingers.

  “If we go any further,” I warn, desire thickening my voice, “there’s no turning back. I won’t stop. I won’t be able to.”

  Caitlin’s nails dig into my back as she licks her lips and squirms beneath me. Blood roars in my ears and my elbows shake with the effort needed to restrain myself from taking her before she says the words I desperately need to hear.

  “No.”

  “No what?” I groan. “Caitlin, I need to hear you say the words. No, you don’t want to keep going, or no, you don’t want me to stop.”

  She curls her torso into mine. I curl my upper body, lifting herself far enough to press my lips against his. “Please. Whatever you do. Don’t stop.”