Body Moves. Jodi Lynn Copeland
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he for damned sure couldn’t do it now, because he was human. Any single guy with a healthy libido would take one look at her lush pink lips pushed into the evocative mew and have the vision of filling up the circle of her lips with his dick.
His shaft roused against the navy knit shorts he’d bought, along with a white and navy polo shirt, in between visits to Danica’s office. “Your baby, huh?”
She continued toward the golf cart. “The one and only.”
He forced his attention from the plumpness of her ass in a midthigh black skirt and continued to the cart. He climbed into the driver’s side, subtly adjusting his growing erection before looking over at her. “Do you want children?”
She gasped and her gaze shot to his groin, like she thought he was making an offer to be the father.
Mom would be elated.
Jordan recoiled with the thought. He would give his parents grandkids someday, but the mother of those kids wouldn’t be Danica. Not that any better candidate came to mind. It wasn’t because he hadn’t taken the time away from work to get to know his recent lovers either. He knew them well enough to know they hadn’t appealed to him beyond a few casual fucks. A woman who kept his interest would come along when the time was right.
Danica frowned. “Why would you ask that?”
He started up the golf cart and focused out the front windshield at the many-windowed side of the building. “The resort seems like a huge responsibility. I wasn’t sure if you would have time for both.”
“I like kids.” She sounded insulted. “If and when I have them, it will be with a man who wants to share the responsibility of taking care of both the resort and the children.”
“If and when that happens, I’m sure you’ll handle the balance perfectly.” Jordan had said the words to appease her. But the more he learned about her and the efficiency with which she ran the resort, the more he believed they were a precise judge of her character.
He backed out of the parking space. “Where to?”
She pointed to the rear of the lot where a narrow paved path cut through the grass. He veered the cart in that direction, following the path slowly up a winding hill.
“There’s no speed limit,” Danica pointed out after a couple minutes.
Yeah, and he wasn’t training for NASCAR the way she seemed to be. “I’m enjoying the scenery.” He made a show of checking out the abundance of trees and multicolored tropical flowers. The hill crested after a quarter mile, and the lichen-covered rise of a small mountain became visible on his left. It was the rolling greens of a golf course on his right that drew his true attention, though.
His father was mistaken about the investment firm sucking the life out of him. It had, however, eaten up more of Jordan’s time the past couple years than he liked to acknowledge. The last time he’d golfed was…Hell, he couldn’t remember. With the snow soon ready to fall back in New York, he wouldn’t be getting a game in this year either. Unless he took advantage of the year-round sun and warm sea breezes of the Caribbean. Playing a friendly round of golf with Danica could only aid him in his quest to get to know her better.
He stopped the cart at the head of the first hole. She looked over, and he nodded toward the tee box. “Resort owned?”
“Actually, it’s not a real course.” She smiled in a way that involved her whole face, her eyes going mostly gray and her mouth opening far enough to give him a glimpse of her tongue. “My father laid out a par-three, nine-hole course for practicing his game. He thought it would be a good place to build on investor relations, too.”
With the flash of Danica’s tongue, Jordan struggled to keep his head on the conversation and not on the unforgettable way her mouth felt moving against his. How her exuberant lips and tongue would feel even better sliding down his body to torment his cock in all the best ways. “It didn’t work?”
“He died during the construction of the resort.”
Christ, what an asshole. Sitting here with his dick hard and thoughts of her making it even harder while he unknowingly made her relive her father’s death. “I’m sorry. You’re what—mid to late twenties? He had to have been quite young.”
Danica laughed. “Nice attempt at charm, but I’m almost thirty-two, and my dad died of natural causes. I was a late-in-life decision for my parents. Dad was in his early fifties and Mom forty-four when I was born.”
He hadn’t been trying to charm her. The reemergence of her husky laugh changed that, made him have the dangerous thought to take her out to the closest sand trap and risk getting sand in every one of their crevices.
Jordan remained seated. “Running this place is a tribute to your father?”
“Private Indulgence was my idea. Dad was the one with the money and experience to see my dream become a reality.”
“Did the resort not take off as well as planned, or why do you need additional funds?”
She eyed him suspiciously. “What makes you think I do?”
“Your agreement to give me your time in exchange for my money.”
“The resort is doing well.” Danica looked toward the tee box. “I’m just flawed.”
“Not from what I’ve seen.” He’d only seen the majority of her front side in the buff, but it happened to be the side that contained some of her most important parts.
He’d pegged her breasts as being implant-enhanced. If they were implants, the surgeon had done an impeccable job. They looked, felt, and tasted 100 percent authentic.
Letting go another alluring laugh, she looked back at him. “I meant personalitywise. I have no idea what order is, and I’m impatient as hell. Lena helps out on the organizational end of things, but nothing can be done for my impatience. I want to see the resort expanded to include nonelective surgeries, bringing people health along with happiness, and I want it to happen now.”
It was the information Jordan had been hoping for. She wanted to act rashly, and rash actions often led to failure. Proving she had a history of impulsive behavior where the resort was concerned would be the perfect excuse for his father not to sink his money into the place.
Now to clear his mind of the fact he hadn’t actually felt or tasted her breasts last night…“Are there clubs stored somewhere around here?”
She frowned. “You want to golf? But what about the tour?”
The tour could wait an hour or two. Bonding was essential. Not the kind of bonding that joined his throbbing cock with her tight pussy either. Unless, of course, she wanted to sleep with him again—that was bound to be the best-feeling bad idea he ever had. “Like I said yesterday, work hasn’t allowed for golfing, or for that matter play of any kind, in ages. You hinted at the same. Only in your case, you’ll still technically be on the clock, since I’m paying for your time.”
“Gee, thanks for making me feel like a prostitute.”
“Could I pay you to have sex with me, Danica?” Jordan shouldn’t have asked the question and risked their fragile connection. She’d resurfaced his cynicism with her admission to being impatient, and the words had come tumbling out.
Danica didn’t bat an eyelash, just slid her hand into his lap and said in an undeniably naughty voice, “Depends how much you’re offering and your kink level.”
4
Maybe it had to do with his change in attire to casual shorts and a polo shirt and the carefree style the warm, salty breeze lent his dark blond hair, but from the moment Jordan looked at her private golf course as if he couldn’t wait to get on it, Danica had experienced an odd sense she’d met him before. It relaxed her enough to share details of her life she wouldn’t have previously told him. For the first time, she’d been comfortable with him.