Page 12 of The Proposal
“Thatis a good question.”
“Do you want a marriage someday or no?”
“Oh, I do. Definitely. It’s just something I’ve never prioritized. But now that I’m thirty—or will be in a few hours—I need to stop dating men with no husband potential.” I brush a strand of hair out of my face. “If I don’t find a decent guy, I’m going to wind up with an anonymous sperm donor. You and Brock will have to be the cool uncles who spoil my baby with male attention.”
He chuckles.
“I’m not joking. I’ve seriously considered getting a sperm donor someday. Think about it—it has its upsides. No man to deal with and no pressure to settle with one just to start a family. No in-laws to loathe. I can do it on my own terms and timeline.”
“I have an idea,” he says, grinning.
“That scares me.”
He pulls Ella’s suitcase across the room. “Have a baby and tell my mom it’s mine. Think about it—you get a kid with a built-in babysitter and college fund, I get the media boost, and my mom is happy. We all win.”
“Oh, okay. That sounds like a great idea,” I say, looking at him like he’s lost his mind.
“What do you mean? It’s perfect.”
I laugh. “Renn Brewer, that might be the most selfish thing you’ve ever said.”
“Selfish? You meanselfless?”
“Nope. I meant selfish.”
He pulls the bright green suitcase to a stop by the door.
“Oh, wait. We forgot Ella’s carry-on.” I grab it off the chair and attempt to finagle it onto my arm. “I need more hands.”
“Here. I can get it.”
I cross the room and hand the satchel to Renn. My foot bumps my suitcase. It rolls behind me, effectively blocking Renn and me in the small corridor beside the door and bathroom.
The room around us shrinks, and the air thickens. Suddenly, I’m aware of the rise and fall of his chest beneath the thin layer of cotton stretched across his torso.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he looks down at me.
We’realmosttoo close.Almosttouching. His exhales fill the small space between us with small blasts of wintergreen.
“Does this make you uncomfortable?” he asks, taunting me.
“Should it?” I smile coyly back at him.
He widens his stance, a playful smirk ghosting his lips. “Would it make you uncomfortable if I kissed you?”
My stomach pulls tight, and my lips part, begging for air … and a kiss. The movement catches his attention, and his gaze drops to my mouth. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip.
A shiver snakes down my spine, reminding me of all the things that tongue could probably do.
We’ve been here before—one wrong move away from starting something I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t,couldn’t, stop. Lucky for us, we both know better than to go too far.
That doesn’t mean we won’t go as close as we can. It’s a carefully choreographed dance that we’ve perfected over the years.
“Is that what you want to do?” I ask, lifting a brow. “You want tokiss me?”
He grins, his eyes hooding. “No. I want to fuck you.”
God.
