“Like you?”
A corner of his mouth quirks upward. “Hey, if the shoe fits…”
I can’t help smiling. “What if I find someone even better?”
“Better than me?” He looks genuinely confused. “Nah.”
I have to laugh. This man is absolutely impossible.
“And just to make sure we’re clear, I was not talking about you when I said, ‘Too damn embarrassing.’ It was something else my brothers brought up.” He puts his hands on my shoulders. “I’m never embarrassed by being with you, Amy.”
I search his face. See earnestness. Warmth unfurls in my heart. “Okay.”
“If you really want, I’ll take you to Dad’s party. Just don’t be too shocked, okay? His events can be…unorthodox.”
I smile, hugely relieved and happy to have that cleared up. “If a party isn’t the best way to meet your family, we can do it some other time. Maybe a small dinner or something?”
“There isn’t any good time.” He frowns. “He’s…uh…busy, among other things. So let’s just do the party. It’ll probably be better that way.”
“Okay.”
“So are we a
ll good? Nothing else you want to talk about? No other misunderstandings?”
“Nope.” I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. He feels so, so good against me, all hard and lean strength. I missed him—being with him, tasting him, hearing his voice, smelling his intoxicating scent. I used to think pheromones were fake, some BS created to sell perfume or explain why people do stupid things when it comes to the opposite sex.
But I’m not so sure anymore. The heat Emmett induces, the way he invades my mind and shatters my focus at odd intervals—it can’t be explained any other way.
Still, none of that would be enough to convince me to think really long term. It’s knowing that he cares—that he’s excited about our baby, our future. The effort he put into creating this nursery, the way he’s taking ownership of a shared life.
A man who was planning on a short-term fling wouldn’t bother putting together a crib himself, much less hiring an entire painting crew and giving them detailed instructions. He could’ve simply painted the walls a standard off-white, put in a prefab crib, filled it with carelessly chosen toys and called it finished. If he even bothered to do that much.
I feel my body shifting and moving with his in a slow dance across the nursery and into the hall. Our mouths are fused, my fingers digging into his hair. The kiss grows carnal, his lips and tongue plundering me.
He pushes a door behind him open with the back of his heel. We circle into his bedroom, my head spinning lazily to match our tempo. Need flutters inside like sweet butterflies.
My world tilts as he lays me gently on the bed. The cool sheets feel fabulous against my heated skin. Cradling his face, I pull him down for more kisses. He obliges as he fumbles with the buttons on my blouse and spreads the clothes, then undoes the front clasp of my bra. He tugs at the zipper on the back of my skirt. I lift my hips to help, then relax when he pulls my skirt and underwear down in one long, sensuous glide.
Then he strips naked and makes my body sing. His mouth closing over the tip of my breast wrings out a soft sigh. Strong suction elicits a groan. His hands are everywhere, leaving trails that tingle. He is taking his time, adding one layer of hot liquid pleasure after another until I feel like I’m drowning in languid bliss.
I dig my fingers into his shoulders, slick with sweat. The rough sound of his breathing is the best aphrodisiac to my ear. His erection presses against me, and I squirm, wanting him to fill me, until we’re joined, as close as we can be to each other.
When he reaches for a condom, I take his wrist. “You don’t have to,” I whisper. My heart flutters at the significance—the commitment and trust I’m placing in him. “I’m already pregnant. And I want to feel you—just you—inside me tonight.”
His eyes darken with burning need. I spread my thighs in silent invitation, then rock my slick folds against his erection.
He groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “You’re killing me.”
The laugh tearing from my throat is low and seductive. I didn’t know I could sound like that, but Emmett makes me feel like a goddess of sex and desire. “Shut up and deal.”
He does, gliding all the way in with one smooth stroke. I gasp at the pleasure of having him inside. We’ve had sex many times before, but this feels different. More connected. More intimate. Our fingers thread, link. We hold on to each other as we move, both of us contributing to a hot, sweet rhythm until a climax shatters over us.
And when our breathing settles, I know I’m open to giving us a chance as a family.
Chapter Forty-One
Amy