A Pregnancy, a Party & a Proposal. Teresa Carpenter
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action put him off balance. He went down on one knee to keep from tumbling on top of her. He’d happily follow up on his offer to join her on the couch as soon as he knew her mind was as engaged as her body.
Meantime, he sank into the kiss.
Instantly the chemistry ignited between them. Angling his head, he slid his tongue past her lips to taste the honey of her mouth. Her sleepy response seduced him into a slow, deep exploration. The meandering journey pulled them down a path not yet taken. The softness of the moment was different but every bit as hot as their bolder encounters.
She sighed and shifted fully onto her back. The drag of her fingers through his hair was a dreamy caress, a subtle demand for more, for longer, for slow and sensual. He willingly set the pace, lingering over each touch, each taste, each smell, satiating all his senses. Her breath sighed over his cheek and he took satisfaction in each little moue and gasp.
Never had he burned for a woman like he did for her. And she was right there with him, her responsiveness inspiring him to new depths.
The gradual, sultry building of passion urged him to tenderness, to lengthy kisses and gentle insistence. He worked his hand under her sweater and glided up her silky skin, seeking the bounty of her breast.
She suddenly went very still and her hand came down on his, effectively pushing the stop button on his attempt to move their embrace to the next step.
“Not a good idea,” she mumbled in a sleep-husky voice.
He groaned and tested her resolve, sweeping his thumb across the warm flesh of her stomach. She gasped and tightened her hold, but the knit of her sweater separating her grasp from his was a thin barrier to his persistence.
“Shh, Dynamite,” he whispered against her lips, “you’re dreaming.”
“Liar.” Her lips lifted in a smile under his and then she turned her head aside. “My body is too alive for me to be asleep.” She pulled his hand free of her clothes. “We agreed no touching.”
“You started it, wrapping yourself all around me.” He kissed a path up her jawline to whisper in her ear. “Let me finish it. We can start the no touching when we get to New York.”
She moaned deep in her throat—a sound he took to mean she was tempted, if the look in her golden eyes meant anything.
“Uh-uh.” She planted both hands on his chest and pushed. “I did not start it. You kissed me first. When I had no resistance. Unfair, Ray.”
He let her up, slid onto the couch next to her when she pushed into a sitting position. “Spoilsport.”
An arch glare came his way. “Really?”
The show of ire along with her mussed hair and just-kissed lips was too sexy for words. Made him want to take up where they had left off. Forget about apologizing. Besides, he still maintained she’d started it. His had been a mere peck on the lips; she had taken it to the next level.
Not waiting for a response, she rolled her eyes, then glanced back at him. “Why did you wake me?”
He checked his watch—much safer than contemplating her. “In ten minutes we begin our descent. I thought you’d like to freshen up before we buckle up.”
“Oh. I would, thanks.” She made her escape.
While she did her thing he went through his email and texts. The car service he used in New York advised that a driver was waiting. His meeting with the mayor was confirmed. And Mamó couldn’t wait to see him.
With a sigh he slipped the phone into his pocket. This trip was long overdue. Sure, he saw his family regularly, stopping off in New York or flying them to him two or three times a year. But he rarely went back to the old neighborhood. Certainly not for any length of time. Too many memories he’d rather not deal with.
Lauren came back, looking as calm and fresh as when she’d first boarded the plane. Something he envied, considering he still ached from their recent bout of passion. He earned another glare when he settled in the seat next to hers, and those luscious lips opened ready to protest, but the pilot came on, demanding they buckle up.
The landing went well and soon Ray saw Lauren seated into a sleek black town car. She promptly slid to the far side of the bench seat, leaving at least a foot between them, and pulled out her tablet, effectively shutting him out. Within a few minutes they were swallowed by the late-afternoon traffic headed through the borough of Queens to Queens Village.
His grandmother lived in a two-family, two-story pitched-roof house on a postage-stamp-sized lot. He’d tried to upgrade her to a bigger house on a larger lot in a better area, but she refused to move. She’d lived in her house since she’d moved in as a bride and intended to stay until the day she died. Rather than argue, he’d paid off the mortgage, bought out the neighbors so his aunt could move in, and made sure the house remained sound and safe.
“We’re here,” he said as the pale gray building with its white filigree fence came into view.
Lauren leaned close to look out the window. “Quaint house.”
He explained his attempt to relocate her. “I told you she was stubborn.”
Cars overflowed the driveway and street, forcing the driver to double park. Ray stepped out and turned to help Lauren. Leaving the driver to bring their bags, Ray threaded their fingers together, more for his benefit than hers, and climbed the brick stairs to the front door. It flew open before his knuckles connected with the wood.
“Ray!” Aunt Ellie pushed open the screen and pulled him into a big hug. “It’s so good to see you. Come inside.” She stepped back, dragging him with her, and by extension Lauren. “Everyone—Ray is here.”
Pandemonium broke out. Women of all ages launched themselves at him. He barely recognized most of them but he hugged them anyway, one-armed. Because he was not letting go of Lauren. Behind him he heard her fielding greetings.
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