The Millionaire's Proposal (17 page)

Within a few minutes, she was reclining against the hull again as they headed back to her place. Not wanting to dwell on what had just transpired between them, she reached her arm over the side of the boat, trailed her fingers in the cool water, and enjoyed the symmetry of Ford’s strokes, and the oars sluicing through the lake.

The easy ride back to Ford’s house on the horses was pleasant and companionable, and when they reached the corral, he dismounted first, then came around for her. He grasped her around her thickening waist with strong hands, she rested her palms on his shoulders, and what should have been a quick help down from Sophie changed the moment Ford lifted her. Her body slid down the length of his, and he did nothing to stop the tantalizing friction. Awareness crackled between them, and his eyes darkened to velvet.

Her fingers curled around the nape of his neck, threading through the warm strands of his hair. “I had a wonderful time today,” she said, trying to still her racing pulse, trying harder to stop the heat spreading like wildfire in her veins.

He kept her hips pressed against his with the slow slide of his hands around her waist. “Yeah, me too.”

They tilted their heads at the same exact moment, she lifting up on tip-toe and him dipping low. Their breaths mingled, coalesced . . . became one. Soft, breathless moans of pleasure rumbled between them. The kiss they shared was a joint effort, meeting halfway, both of them instigating a deeper union with the touch of their tongues.

The rolling sensation in the pit of Grace’s belly startled her, and she jerked back, eyes wide. “Ohh,” she said, splaying a hand low on her abdomen, where she’d felt the movement.

“What’s wrong?” Worry roughened Ford’s tone.

“I think it’s the baby moving.” She looked up at Ford in wonder. “It felt it earlier today, but wasn’t sure. This time, I’m certain that’s what the fluttering sensation was.”

Without asking, he pressed his large palm to her stomach, his expression anxious and excited, but the moment had passed, and the baby wasn’t cooperating on demand. He looked so disappointed, she couldn’t help but smile and reassure him.

“It’ll happen again,” she said, too aware of his fingers gently probing her tummy.

He looked discontent, as if he’d been deprived of some great mystery. “Grace . . .” He cut himself off indecisively, and thrust his fingers through his hair.

She couldn’t imagine what had him so frazzled. “Ford, what is it?”

He frowned at her, then finally said, “I want you to share my bed.”

Startled by his direct demand, she took a step back, bumping into Sophie, who shifted away with a soft snort of indignation. As much as she wanted to experience the pleasure and closeness of making love with Ford again, Grace knew she couldn’t give him her body, without giving him her heart, too. And she wouldn’t do that until she had his in return.

Refusing him was more difficult than she imagined. “Ford, I know our relationship is changing, and we’ve grown closer the past few months, but I think it’s best if we remain in separate beds for now.”
Until you tell me you love me
.

He shook his head. “I’m not trying to proposition you,” he said, a wry grin canting his mouth. “I want you to share my bed so I can share in the experience of you being pregnant with my baby. I find everything about you being pregnant fascinating, and it’s hardly fair that you get to experience everything, and I can only imagine what it’s like.”

Humor bubbled within her. “I’m afraid ‘imagining’ is all you’ll be able to do.”

“I want to be a part of this pregnancy,” he clarified. “I want to feel those first movements, I want to see the daily changes in your body, and I want to talk to my daughter as she grows.”

“Daughter?” she repeated softly, completely beguiled by his request.

He gave a nonchalant shrug and dragged his thumb along her cheek. “I can’t help it if I’d like a little girl, just as beautiful as her mother.”

A huge lump formed in her throat, and her heart swelled with a multitude of emotion.

He wound a finger around a silky strand of blonde hair, captivating her in more ways than one. “Will you move into my bedroom?”

His sweet request was more than she could resist. He wasn’t demanding this time, but asking. And more than anything, she wanted to share this experience with someone else, too—and who better than her husband?

“I’ll be there tonight,” she promised.

Grace felt as a shy and modest as a bride on her wedding night, which was ridiculous, she chastised her reflection in Ford’s master bathroom mirror. She and Ford weren’t going to make love—he only wanted to be close to the child she carried, something she could hardly fault.

Suppressing the jumble of nerves swarming in her belly, she tied the ribbon that held the bodice of her gown together just above her breasts. The pale pink nightgown she’d bought a few days ago flowed in a billow of cotton to her knees, where it ended with a ruffled hem. The design wasn’t very flattering to her figure, leaving plenty of room for her soon-to-be burgeoning tummy. She’d selected the gown for comfort, and because the buttons down the front would allow her to use the nightie to breast feed the baby after it was born.

She dragged a brush through her unbound hair, wishing she had something prettier and sexier to wear, then immediately shook that notion from her head. The purpose of her moving into Ford’s bedroom wasn’t to seduce her husband, but to give him time to bond with his baby. She could do that just as easily, and possibly more effectively, if she was wearing something unappealing.

She heard his footsteps in the adjoining master bedroom, and her heart beat faster. She spent another ten minutes making sure she’d smoothed every tangle from her hair, brushed her teeth until they were so cleaned they squeaked, and fussed with her unattractive gown. With no more excuses left to postpone what she’d agreed to, she drew a steady breath and stepped inside Ford’s bedroom.

He was half undressed, wearing only a warm, sensual smile and a pair of jeans, the first button of which was unsnapped. His shirt was gone, and so were his boots and socks. Looking away from the arousing sight of his bare chest, she headed toward the four poster bed and pulled down the spread and covers.

“Did you get everything moved over okay?” he asked from behind her.

“Yes.” She plumped the pillows unnecessarily, keeping her gaze on the task. “Your walk-in closet is huge.”

“When I designed the house, I did so in hopes that I’d be sharing that closet with someone.” The sound of a zipper lowering rasped in the room, then the rustle of material sliding off as he shucked his jeans.

Grace snuck a peek across the expanse of the king-sized bed, relieved to find Ford wearing a pair of white briefs. Though the snug underwear left little to her imagination, it was a barrier she appreciated to keep temptation at bay.

Sliding into her side of the bed, she arranged the covers up under her arms. “I took the two empty drawers in the armoire for my lingerie,” she said, trying to keep the conversation casual during what felt like such an intimate moment.

“That’s fine.” He joined her in the big bed, leaving the lamp on to illuminate the room. Propping himself up on his elbow, he let the sheet and blanket drape around his hips. “If you need more room, let me know.”

She smiled. “Okay.”

He smiled back, a lazy lifting of his lips, and crooked his finger at her. “Come closer, Grace,” he said, amusement in his tone. “You’re so close to the edge I’m afraid you’re gonna fall off the mattress.”

“I’m fine, really,” she insisted lightly.

“I don’t bite,” he promised, laughter glimmering in his eyes. “But I do want to touch you, like we agreed. And I can’t do that if there’s a yard of space between us.”

She could hardly argue with his logic, but couldn’t stem her own timidity. “This is awkward,” she said, scooting closer.

He inched over, too, meeting her halfway, until she lay right next to him and she could feel the heat of his body pressed against her side. In the process, he’d managed to slide the covers down to their knees.

“It shouldn’t be.” He looked down at her, his expression gentle. “You’re my wife, and not only that, I’ve seen you naked before.”

She gulped. He planned to see her
naked
? She was prepared for those hands of his to touch her, but she’d thought she’d have the protection of her gown, a layer of defense between her body and his exploring fingers and heated gaze.

He reached out and touched the ribbon that tied the bow at the bodice of her gown. She grasped his wrist before he could tug on the thin strip of satin, and he immediately stilled.

Their gazes met, his filled with patience and admirable self-control. “I want to see the changes in your body. Will you let me?”

Insecurities swamped her. She wasn’t very big yet, but even she’d noticed new lush curves to her once slender body. Though she scrutinized her blossoming figure from a maternal view point, and reveled in the miraculous changes, she wasn’t sure how Ford would view the transformation from slim and svelte to plump and rounded.

He seemed to understand. “If I do anything you don’t like, just tell me to stop and I will.”

Ultimately, she knew he’d keep his word. She just wasn’t sure she trusted herself when Ford’s mere gaze had the ability to unravel her. How would she survive his caresses?

Forcing herself to relax, she released his wrist. He gave a gentle tug, and the ribbon unfurled, revealing a teasing glimpse of the swells of her breasts. As if he had all the time in the world, his long fingers worked at the buttons, slowly undoing them until he reached the last one, right over her rib cage.

She was still decently covered, but the anticipation of knowing what he intended caused her chest to rise and fall with rapid breaths. And still, he took his time exploring, reveling in every moment. His warm palm smoothed beneath the neckline of her open gown, gliding over her collar bone and gradually moving down. Finally, he parted the material to the side, baring one plump, blue-veined breast to his reverent gaze.

Seemingly enthralled with how full and firm she’d become, he cupped the heavy weight of her flesh in the palm of his hand. Her breast grew excruciatingly tighter in his gentle grasp, and she sucked in a startled gasp when he rasped his thumb over the velvety tip, puckering her nipple.

He immediately released her, his awed expression quickly changing to a concerned frown. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head, and managed a husky, “No.” Quite the contrary—his touch felt good, arousing and thrilling. “My breasts are just very sensitive.”

His features relaxed again. “I’ll be more careful.”

Before she could reassure him that he hadn’t caused her any real discomfort, she felt his fingers graze her knee then skim up her thighs, which quivered from that light stroking. Cool air washed over her heated skin as he traveled higher, pooling the hem of her gown around his wrist as he reached her stomach. She didn’t have to look down to know she was exposed to his gaze, from chest to thighs, except for the material bunched around her ribs, and her panties, which he’d inched lower so he could splay his hand over her protruding abdomen. Amazingly, his long fingers spanned her taut, curved belly, lovingly cradling the life inside her in the palm of his hand.

A profound breath shuddered out of him. “I never thought I could want something as much as I want this baby.” He glanced up at her, staring deeply into her eyes. His gaze held a wealth of emotion and gratitude so powerful she felt it to her very soul. “You’re giving me something I never believed I’d ever have.”

She rested her hand over his, threading their fingers, joining the three of them as one. “And what’s that?” she whispered.

“A family,” he said, his voice tight and raspy. “Security. Laughter and love in our home.”

A rush of tears stung the backs of Grace’s eyes and she managed, just barely, to keep them at bay. His words said so much, but she wanted, needed, so much more. She needed his love—not for the baby she carried that would make his life complete, but for
her
, as his wife, and the woman who loved him unconditionally.

With their hands still clasped over her belly, he leaned over her, sliding his other hand into her unbound hair to cradle the back of her head. Lifting her mouth to his, he kissed her, slow and deep and luxuriously, making her weak with desire in no time flat.

Breaking the kiss, he buried his face in the curve of her neck, drawing deeply of her scent. “You smell so good,” he murmured, his warm breath dampening her skin.

She felt so pliant, so dewy, all she could manage was a soft moan.

He strung a series of moist kisses along the slender column of her throat, nuzzled the under curve of her jaw, touched his tongue to the pulse pattering at the base of her collar bone.

Sensual hunger coiled low and deep within her, and she shifted restlessly beside him. “Ford . . .” Her voice quivered with uncertainties.

“I’m only kissing you, Grace,” he murmured soothingly. “And touching you.”

She swallowed. Hard. She’d given him the right to kiss her, anytime, anywhere. It was the
anywhere
that concerned her at the moment . . . as well it should have, because his mouth glided down, and his tongue traced the slope of her breast all the way to the aching crest . . . which he kissed in the most delicious, sensuous way.