Page 55 of Floored

A buzzing sound went off in my head, like a game show contestant had hit the wrong button.

Not the topic I wanted to touch on.

"Fine," I told him. "You're early."

He grinned. "I wanted to scope out the building and see if you were exaggerating about how posh it was."

Lifting one eyebrow, I pinched his nipple, smiling in satisfaction when he yelped.

"And you weren't," he finished.

What I thought about saying next was not what came out of my mouth. What I thought about saying was, Of course, I wasn't exaggerating. But what came out of my mouth was, "Have you told your parents about the baby yet?"

Jude froze. Hell, so did I.

Maybe Atwood's advice made me so uncomfortable because she was right. It was a thought I didn't want to dwell on too much.

Jude gently turned our positions, so my back was against the column, his arm caging me in, an effective barrier from any prying eyes on the quiet, tree-lined street.

"Not yet," he admitted. His hand snuck under the back of my shirt, and he traced the bumps on my spine. "Soon."

I opened my mouth, this time not even sure what I was going to say, and he leaned in, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth.

“H-how was work?” I asked, tilting my mouth away.

He kissed down my neck. “I hardly want to talk about work when I could be doing this.”

My fingers curled into the material of his shirt, and even as I recognized what he was doing—serving up a delicious distraction—I wasn't able to find the strength to resist it.

Not conventional.

Maybe not even wise.

But I tilted my head and yanked him closer, earning me a grunt of satisfaction when my tongue slid wetly against his. One of his palms spread wide over my stomach, and I felt a warm glow somewhere in the vicinity of my heart.

Wise, conventional, whatever word someone else might suggest ... I decided they were all overrated, and I lost myself in his kiss.

16

JUDE

By the time we were back at my house and Lia had curled up in her favorite corner of my couch, I'd sort of stopped hearing that little whomp-whomp-whomp sound in my head.

Sort of.

I scrolled the screen of my phone.

"Did you know the average heartbeat is up to a hundred and sixty beats per minute?"

Lia glanced at me, a bemused smile on her face. "I did not."

"His was fast."

Whomp, whomp, whomp. Like a horse galloping on hard dirt.

Now the smile spread on her face. "His? I thought it was my job to get a feel for the sex."

"Awfully sexist of you." I lifted my phone screen and tried to pretend I wasn't a little embarrassed that I'd been the first to admit which gender I thought the baby was. "Sir Google says that boy heartbeats average a bit higher, so you can sod off."

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