He had to kiss her. Just once.
One turned into two, doubled to four, and after that, Bryan lost count.
Holy hell, this was hotter than the other one. What had their very first one been like? The second? Third?
And what about when he’d come inside her…
Jesus, his cock got hard so quick it sucked the breath right out of him. Or maybe that was Jenna. But how in the hell could he not remember what she’d tasted like the night they’d met? Even in his drunken haze he must have noticed, must have realized how incredibly hot and sweet and sexy and good and delectable and luscious and… he was running out of words—which went with running out of breath which she stole with all the fire inside that lithe, sexy body she’d sauntered across the stage tonight with such confidence.
He hadn’t expected it. With what she now did for a living, he’d thought she’d be shy. Demure. School-girl persona that some men fantasized over. But not Jenna. She’d out-vamped Marilyn for sexy and it’d been all he’d been able to do not to scoop her off that stage and carry her up here, the show and patrons be dammed.
If only he could remember how good it’d been between them. Because it had been good, of that Bryan had no doubt. But he wanted to find out how good.
He backed her up to the bed.
She went willingly, clinging to the edges of his shirt so tightly he had a feeling she was going to pop some buttons.
He knew some buttons he’d like to push on her.
Those damn tassels had mocked him that entire time she’d stood there almost naked, and he’d known every man was devouring those breasts with his eyes, while he’d had the chance to do so with his mouth and his tongue and his hands and why the hell couldn’t he remember?
He lowered her onto the bed.
“Bryan?” She pulled her lips from his, her blue eyes wide with—dare he hope—desire?
“I want you, Jenna.” He did. There was no hiding it and, hell, they’d done this once already. It wasn’t as if it was new.
But it’d be like the first time again for him and Bryan liked that idea. He had a feeling every time with Jenna would be a new experience.
“Bryan, I…”
He held his breath. Held hers, too, inside him, tasting it, wanting more.
Her eyes searched his, looking for… something. He had a lot of something inside him and prayed to God he could give her what she wanted .What she needed.
Then she uncurled her fingers against his chest and pressed her palms to it.
Bryan blew out their mixed breaths, sucked in another one, and kissed her again.
God, she tasted good. Amazing. Fresh and sweet with a little bit of spice as if she’d eaten an apple pie before coming here tonight—or had one of their appletinis. He’d have to get her one of those the next time they were downstairs.
God willing that wouldn’t be for hours yet.
He stroked her tongue again, thrusting against it, his cock doing the same thing against her mound. The one that’d been barely covered in that golden thong with the sequins… it’d sparkled in the stage lights, practically winking at him.
And then there’d been her ass, dear God that ass, shaking with just the right amount of jiggle for a woman, all firm and plump and right there, the perfect size and shape and contour and smoothness for his hands—
He slid a hand down to her hip, wanting to cup her. Did she still have the thong on?
Bryan groaned into her mouth and squeezed. He wanted to find out. Then he wanted to peel it off her. With his teeth.
“Bryan.”
It took him a few seconds to realize that she’d wrenched her lips from his, she’d said his name so softly. Or maybe that was due to the blood pounding in his ears.
“Jenna?” His voice was raw. Hoarse. Raspy. Like every nerve ending in his body. He wanted her. Badly.
“I…” She licked her lips.
He would have been fine if she hadn’t licked her lips. He would have stopped. Really. He would have. But those lips and that tongue and that look in her eyes…
She didn’t really want him to stop, did she?
He kissed her, not crushing her to him like he wanted to, but giving her an out.
One she didn’t take.
Instead, she sighed into his mouth and then, by God, all bets were off.
He rolled over, pulling her on top of him, and sunk a hand into that riotous bunch of curls that just demanded attention, screaming sexy-tousled-love-making-hair every single time he looked at her.
The other hand finally got to grab hold of her ass, kneading it, filling his palm with its softness, and his dick turned to stone. He had to have her. Here. Now. And then again.
Condom. He needed to get a condom. The thought mocked him given that they already had a child between them, plus the fact that he didn’t want to move to get one.
He ran his lips along her jaw, down to her throat where the pulse pounded every bit as fast and strong as his own. She wanted him, too.
He peeled back the open vee of her shirt and licked her throat. She’d used the apple cinnamon scrub; that’s what he’d been tasting. Best investment he and Gage had ever made was buying those edible flavored soaps.
Jenna was the first to go for apple cinnamon and he was now retiring that flavor from any other woman.
He didn’t want any other woman using his soaps anymore.
That was enough to get him to stop.
“Bryan?” Now there was a question in her voice, and by God, there was a question in his head.
He didn’t want any other woman? Was he out of his freakin’ mind? Just because he and Jenna had made a baby didn’t mean they’d made a commitment. This wasn’t a happily ever after. They weren’t even a family. One of them—both of them—could go on to marry someone else.
Someone else…
Jenna could marry someone else and that man would raise his son?
Bryan looked at her.
“Jenna, marry me.”
Chapter Nineteen
The words just popped out. He hadn’t thought about them before he said them, but yeah, sure. Why not? It made sense. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other and they had Trevor. This way they wouldn’t have to share him with anyone and they could be a family.
“What?” She let go of his shirt and pushed herself up on his chest. “What did you say?”
He licked his lips, his cock jerking when her gaze shot to his mouth. “I said, ‘marry me.’”
Now she scrambled off him. “You can’t be serious.”
He rolled to his side and leaned onto his elbow. He ran his hand down her arm. “I’ve never been more serious.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense. We barely know each other.”
Oh they knew each other barely.
“But we have Trevor.”
Now she scrambled off the bed. “But that doesn’t mean we have to get married. What if we don’t have anything in common except Trevor?”
He raised his eyebrows—and his cock went to full-on salute, too. “We have more than just Trevor in common, Jenna.”
She knew what he was talking about and her gaze shifted right to his groin.
He saw the flare of interest in her eyes.
“That’s just sex, Bryan, and if you’ll recall, it’s how we got into this mess in the first place.”
He sighed. She wasn’t coming back to bed. Not with that tone in her voice.
He sat up. “First of all, I don’t consider Trevor to be a mess. Yes, it’s not optimal to create a baby with someone you don’t know—and can’t get in touch with—but we do have him so that’s a moot point. We’ll be in each other’s lives for at least the next fourteen years, if not more. And then there are the grandchildren.”
Oh, God, he hadn’t thought about grandchildren. He’d be a grandfather some day.
“Grandchildren?” She felt for the dresser and leaned against it.
Looked like she hadn’t thought about them, either.
/> “Well, yeah. We did, after all, just give our parents a grandchild.” His mom. He had to tell his mom about Trevor. She’d be ecstatic.
“Are your parents still around?” Jenna asked.
“My mom is. My dad died when I was younger. What about you?”
“My dad died when I was in high school. My mom and I… we don’t exactly see eye-to-eye.”
“I’ve heard it’s that way with girls and their moms. Good thing Trev’s a boy, huh?”
She crossed her arms and made some non-committal response.
Bryan exhaled. “Look, I know it’s unorthodox. This whole thing is, but I meant it. I think you should marry me. It’s what’s best for Trevor.”
But was it best for her?
Jenna uncrossed her arms and stood up. She tucked hair behind both of her ears. Again.
It didn’t stay. Again.
“Bryan, this is crazy.” She started pacing. “We don’t even know each other. I didn’t even know your last name until yesterday. Now you want to marry me?” She shook her head. Here he was, saying all the right things, all the things she’d wanted Carl to say, yet she was waffling.
Because she’d have to lie to him every day for the rest of her life.
She didn’t know if she could do that. Once Trevor turned eighteen it wouldn’t matter if Bryan knew the truth—if they weren’t married. But if they were, it’d kill him. It would destroy their marriage. He’d wonder what else she’d lied about.
Bryan grabbed her hand. “We have a lot more in common than a lot of people.”
Heat sizzled all the way up her arm. “Chemistry doesn’t make a good marriage, Bryan.”
“It doesn’t make for a bad one. But I was talking about wanting what’s best for Trevor. I mean, you obviously do because you didn’t deny that I was his father and make me jump through paternity-testing hoops. You want what’s best for him; I do, too, and he’d love to see us together. We’re both single, right?”
“You are?”
He shook his head. “Well, yeah. I wouldn’t have come on to you if I weren’t.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
He exhaled. “I guess I deserve that, given what I accused you of.”
“I wasn’t doing it in retaliation.”
“I know.”
“How?” She flung her arms to her sides. This was ridiculous. He couldn’t just propose to her and expect her to jump up and down in gratitude. “How do you know? You really don’t know anything about me.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. It was a really sexy move on him. “I know you’re a caring mom. A loving one. A hard worker. You’ve inspired the love and loyalty of your students. Trevor’s a happy, healthy, fun, outgoing kid. The head of the police department likes you. You have a stable job, a nice home, and you were generous enough to give me a part in my son’s life. And that’s all without the window-dressing and insane chemistry between us. A lot of people have a lot less when they get married.”
“But they at least know each other.”
“Fine. Then let’s get to know each other.”
“Huh?” She shoved off the dresser and started pacing, both to give her something to do and work off some of the adrenaline that had come from her little dance number earlier.
And that kiss—
“Let’s get to know each other, Jenna. Hang out. Play with our son.”
“I thought we were already doing that.”
“We were—with Trevor—but I mean us. As a couple. Date.”
“You want to date me?”
“It’s backwards, I know, but, yeah, I would like to date you.”
Damn if that didn’t cause a little flutter in her tummy. Of course, that tummy didn’t know what it was like to get stretch marks from carrying his son so it didn’t really have a say in the matter. “I don’t want to get married just for the sake of my son, Bryan. Marriage should be between two people who love each other, because once Trevor’s out of the house, it’ll just be the two of us.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Huh?”
“What if we have more kids?”
“More?” She was halfway into her second turn on her pacing when that comment plunked her butt down onto his bed. Make more children with Bryan? Well, his more, her first.
And how the hell would she keep that from him? She’s supposed to have gone through childbirth before. Going to Mindy’s Lamaze class was nothing like giving birth. She’d breathed through the contractions for her sister as a spectator, not the main participant, and Mindy hadn’t been anywhere coherent enough to go into detail about the experience. It’d hurt and that was all Jenna had needed to know at the time.
“You do want more kids, don’t you? Trevor can’t be an only child.”
She rubbed her head. It hurt. For a whole bunch of reasons, not the least of which was an image of another black-curly-haired baby cuddled in her arms.
“I... I guess.” She did want more kids. But she hadn’t exactly planned on Bryan as their father and she wasn’t ready to go there. To go near any of this. Because with the secret she was carrying, this had the very big, very real possibility of blowing up in her face.
But how was she going to convince him this was a bad idea without telling him the truth?
“Bryan, I’m sorry, but I can’t marry you.”
Chapter Twenty
First time he’d ever been shot down and it’d been when it’d mattered the most.
Bryan tossed back the covers on the bed in the apartment. He’d stayed here last night after watching her storm off down the steps to the back of the club. He’d wanted to go with her, but she’d insisted that she didn’t need him because she’d been raising Trevor on her own for almost four years and had done a damn fine job of it without his help, thankyouverymuch, and he could take his marriage idea and go find some other woman who needed a man to make her life complete.
There’d been a lot unsaid in that diatribe that he’d wanted to explore, but figured, given the level of upset his suggestion had garnered, it’d be best to wait until she’d cooled down and had a night to sleep on it.
So he’d slept here. At least, that’d been the theory.
He’d flipped from channel to channel in an effort to distract himself, but it hadn’t worked. So he’d finally given up, gone downstairs and closed up, then had come back to lay in the dark, trying not to think about what he’d just done.
What he’d been proposing to do.
He’d never even come near the idea of marriage. Had never thought he would.
’Course, he’d also never thought he’d be a dad, so that showed what he knew.
He scrubbed his face. He needed a shower. He hadn’t wanted to get in it last night after she’d been in there because he was sure her scent still lingered. At the very least, that damn apple cinnamon soap would be there.
He was going to throw it out.
He got out of bed. Hmmm, he’d worn his boxers. A conscious decision he’d forgotten about since he usually slept in the nude, but since he hadn’t wanted to give in to the temptation to take care of business with the image of Jenna in her tassels and thong and nothing else, he’d provided a barrier to deter himself. It just didn’t seem right to jack off to the memory of his son’s mother’s hot body.
He ought to be making love to his son’s mother’s hot body.
His dick sprang to life.
Bryan shook his head and headed into the bathroom. It was a losing battle; he just couldn’t get Jenna out of his head.
And when he caught a whiff of that damn soap, he realized he couldn’t get her out of his skin either. She’d wrapped herself around him like a big ol’ bear hug when she’d given him access to his son.
He hoped to hell he hadn’t just scared her off.
He turned on the showerhead and stepped under it. Good. The cold water not only woke him up, but it got his dick to calm down, too.
He reached for the soap, fully intending to pitch it into the trashcan
, but cinnamon wasn’t something anyone could ignore.
It smelled like Jenna.
Or rather, she smelled like it.
Oh hell, he didn’t know which smelled like which and did it really matter? He was transported right back to last night and that kiss and his royally botched proposal.
She was right, of course. They didn’t know each other; getting married probably wasn’t the smartest idea. At least, not yet. But why couldn’t they date? Why couldn’t they get to know each other? They had as good a chance as anyone in a new dating situation that they’d like each other.
Bryan rubbed the back of his neck where a headache was starting, and turned the water a little hotter. Standing here thinking about it wouldn’t get them to know each other. Only one thing would: actually hanging out together. And he had promised Trevor some football.
Bryan ran the soap over his body. It was silky. Smooth. Just like her. He sniffed it, remembering the same cinnamon-y fragrance when he’d nuzzled her neck. How he’d nibbled on it.
He rolled his eyes and set it down, reaching now for his shampoo. Something strong and masculine. He’d hang on to the soap in the hopeful event that he could convince her to get to know him and maybe, someday, she’d shower here again.
Bryan snorted. Yeah, it was a long shot. But, still, he’d never given up during a game in his life, not even that last one with his torn mess of a leg. Coach had been the one to tell the paramedics to strap him to the board and get him to the hospital, so he sure as hell wasn’t going to give up now even if she’d already shot him down.
His only saving grace was that no one but he and Jenna knew.
“He asked you to marry him?”
Cathy had kept repeating it the whole ride home last night and it was the first thing she said when she’d showed up at Jenna’s house this morning.
“My answer hasn’t changed since last night.”
“Your answer to me or your answer to him? ’Cause, seriously, Jen, you really might want to rethink this. I mean, the man’s a freakin’ god in the looks department, wants to be part of his kid’s life—do you know how rare that is among baby daddies?—and he’s pretty well off. You could do a lot worse.”
Beefcake & Mistakes Page 12
