Pregnant By The Maverick Millionaire. Joss WoodЧитать онлайн книгу.
tipped his head and dropped his voice so only she could hear his words. “It hasn’t gone away, has it?”
Brodie wished she could deny it, dismiss his comment, but she couldn’t lie to him. Or herself. She forced herself to look him in the eye. “No.”
His fingers pushed into her back at her reluctant admission. “So, just to be clear, we’re saying this crazy attraction is still happening?”
“Yep.” One-syllable answers were all she could manage.
“So are we going to do anything about it this time?”
Wren’s efficient voice interrupted their low, intense conversation. “Kade, you’re at the main table up front. Brodie, I’ll show you to your seat.”
Brodie gave Kade a little shrug and followed Wren into the private dining room of Taste. When she tossed a look over her shoulder, she flushed when she noticed Kade was still watching her.
And he didn’t stop looking at her for the next ninety minutes.
* * *
He wanted her. The heated looks they’d exchanged over the three tables that separated them left her in no doubt of that. Jeez, it was a minor miracle the room hadn’t spontaneously combusted from the sparks they were throwing at each other.
He wanted her as much as he had six months ago, possibly more. It was insane; it was exciting.
What was she going to do about it?
She knew what he wanted, to take up where they’d left off in his loft. In the ladies’ room Brodie pulled a face at her reflection in the mirror above the bathroom sink and ran her wet fingers over the back of her neck, hoping to cool herself down but knowing it was a futile gesture. She was hot from the inside out and it was all Kade Webb’s fault.
Every look he’d sent her, every small smile, had told her he wanted her in the most basic, biblical way possible.
She was pretty sure she’d returned his message. With interest.
Brodie sighed. Having a fling with Kade wouldn’t hurt anyone. Unlike an affair with a married man it wasn’t icky, immoral or dishonest. It wouldn’t be embarrassing or hurtful. It wouldn’t—unless she did something really stupid, like fall for the guy—be painful.
She hadn’t had an affair, or sex, for a long, long time; she hadn’t been naked with a man since Jared the IT guy and he was around three, or was it four, years ago? She was nearly thirty and she was tired of dating herself.
Could she do it? Could she have a one-night stand with Kade? Was she okay with being another puck he shot into his sexual net? Brodie grimaced at her bad analogy. But could she be another of Webb’s Women?
If she was looking for a relationship, and she wasn’t because she was relationship-phobic, Kade would be the last person she’d be interested in. Brodie gripped the vanity and stared at the basin, thinking hard.
He was famous and she’d matched enough semifamous guys to know how much time and effort it took to date a celebrity. She couldn’t think of anything worse than having your life dissected on social media platforms or in the society columns, but some women got off on it.
She hadn’t considered any of this that long-ago morning when she’d agreed to coffee. Everything had moved so quickly and she’d only been thinking in terms of a couple of hours spent with him. But she had noticed that over the last six months the spotlight on Kade had become even bigger and brighter. His life was routinely dissected; his dates scrutinized. The press was relentless and easily turned a movie into a marriage proposal, a dinner into destiny.
Brodie shuddered. Yuck.
That being said, she still wanted him.
If she could go through with it this time—and that was a big if—she couldn’t ignore the fact that a quick fling with Vancouver’s most eligible, slippery bachelor could have consequences. If they did do the deed and it became public knowledge, as these things tended to do with the Mavericks, it would affect her business. She had a database of clients who trusted her, who confided in her. Quite a few of them thought she was engaged, and a liaison with Kade would not inspire her clients to trust her judgment.
Men, she’d realized, were frequently a lot more romantic—or traditional—than most woman gave them credit for. They could have affairs, play the field and have one-night stands, but they wouldn’t appreciate their matchmaker doing the same.
No, it was smarter and so much more sensible to ignore Kade’s suggestion that they continue what they’d started. Sleeping with him probably wouldn’t be as good as she imagined; she’d probably romanticized exactly how good Webb’s kissing was to excuse her crazy, uninhibited behaviour when she was alone with him. No, best to keep her distance...
Good decision, Brodie thought, eyeing her reflection in the mirror. Sensible decision.
Adult decision.
Safe decision.
So why did it feel so damn wrong?
The ladies’ room was on a short flight of stairs above the men’s restroom and when she stepped into the passage, she looked down and saw the blond head and muscular shoulders that could only belong to Kade.
She flicked off a piece of fluff from her shocking pink blouson dress, belted at the waist and ending midthigh. Nude heels, scalpel-thin, made her legs look like they went on for miles. Back in her apartment it had seemed very suitable for a business lunch, but when Kade looked up and his eyes darkened from a deep brown to a shade just off black, she knew he wanted to rip off her clothing with his teeth. Keeping her hand on the banister, biting the inside of her lip, her heart galloping, she walked down the three steps to the marble floor, a scant couple of inches from his broad chest.
He didn’t give her any warning or ask for her permission, his mouth simply slammed into hers. Brodie had to grab his biceps to keep from falling off her shoes. Those amazing hands covered a great deal of her back and she was sure her dress would sport scorch marks from the heat. She was intensely aware of him and could feel the ridges of his fingers, the strength in his wrists.
Brodie wound her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth against his. He tasted like coffee and Kade and breath mints and his lips seemed to feel like old friends. Warm, firm, dry. Confident. That word again. His hands bumped up her spine, kneading as he worked his way to her shoulders, moving around to catch her face. His thumbs skated over her cheekbones as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into her mouth.
Loneliness—the slight dissatisfaction that hovered like a fine mist around her, the ever-present sorrow—dissipated as he took command of the kiss, pushing her back against the wall and pushing his knee between her thighs. This was kissing—raw, raunchy, flat-out sexy. Brodie felt heat and warmth and moisture gather and felt an unfamiliar pull of fulfillment, a desire to lose herself in the heat and strength and sexiness of this man.
Kade’s hand skimmed the side of her chest, down her waist and around to her butt, his fingers strong and sure, experienced. He cupped a cheek, pulled her up and into him, and she sighed as his erection pushed into her stomach. He yanked his mouth off hers and she tumbled into his sinfully dark eyes. “Same old, same old.”
Brodie placed her hands on his pecs and tried to regulate her breathing. Where was an oxygen tank when she needed one? She felt Kade’s fingers on her cheekbone, tracing her jaw. “Brodie? You okay?”
Fine. Just trying to get my brain to restart. Brodie placed her forehead on his sternum and pulled in some much needed air.
“Dammit, Kade,” she eventually muttered.
“Yep, we’re a fire hazard,” Kade agreed, resting his chin on the top of her head. “What are we going to do about it?”
“Nothing?” Brodie suggested.