Page 18 of Pregnancy Clause in Their Paper Marriage
‘Well, we’re ripping up that rule book, aren’t we?’ he replied easily, shedding his coat and hanging it on the stand in the hall. ‘Something smells good. What’s for dinner?’
‘I’mhaving a warm lentil salad,’ Lana replied tartly. ‘I don’t know what you’re having.’
Christos glanced at her, amused. ‘Please, don’t feel you have to roll the red carpet out for me.’
She let out a reluctant laugh. Christos always managed to amuse her, even when she didn’t want to be amused. ‘We’re supposed to meet uptomorrow, Christos,’ she reminded him.
‘I know,’ he replied as he strolled up the stairs towards the living room, ‘but I was thinking that it might be a little tough on us both, to go into that kind of meeting stone cold.’
What wasthatsupposed to mean? She watched him head up the stairs, his gait easy and relaxed, his body loose-limbed and graceful. ‘Cold?’ she repeated warily. ‘How so?’
Christos had disappeared upstairs, and so Lana followed him up the stairs and into her living room, where he was already sprawled on the deep sofa of cream velvet, feet propped on her cherry-wood coffee table, looking utterly relaxed as well as potently virile. When she drew a breath, she inhaled the scent of his aftershave and it made something warm uncurl inside her, spread outwards. ‘Christos?’ she prompted.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘So, no lentil salad for me?’
‘I’m not even hungry any more,’ she replied honestly. His arrival had completely thrown her for a loop, which he had to realise.
‘That’s all right,’ he told her with a smile. ‘I’m not either.’ He patted the seat next to him. ‘Why don’t you come here?’
Lana was eyeing the seat next to him as if a boa constrictor were curled up on it. What was she so scared of? Well, it didn’t matter, because he was determined to allay her fears, whatever they were. That was what this was about. Mostly.
He patted the cushion next to him again. ‘Lana, please come sit down.’
She was still eyeing the sofa, looking uncertain, even suspicious. ‘What did you mean, go into that—that meeting cold?’
‘Come sit down and I’ll tell you.’
‘Fine.’ She tossed her head, bravado back in place, and sat down next to him, her body as taut as a bow, practically quivering. It was hard not to steal a glimpse downward—that T-shirt was so worn it was nearly transparent, and although she kept folding her arms across her chest to hide it, he was pretty sure she wasn’t wearing a bra. The sweatpants she wore were baggy and loose, almost falling off her slender hips. Her hair was in loose tumbled waves about her shoulders. He didn’t think she’d ever looked so desirable, sosexy.
‘Tough day at work?’ Christos asked and she shrugged.
‘No more than usual.’
‘How are your feet?’
‘What?’ She looked startled.
‘I saw the stilettos by the door. Killer shoes, quite literally. Do your feet hurt?’
Another shrug. ‘No more than usual.’
‘Come here.’
‘What?’
Smiling a little, he reached for her leg. She was too surprised to resist, and he drew it up, so her foot rested in his lap.
‘What...?’ Her voice was unsteady, her breathing a little uneven. Already she was responding to him, and he liked it. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Giving you a foot massage. If you want me to?’
‘Well...’ She hesitated, and then shrugged her assent. ‘I... I guess.’
With his thumb he started to work the muscles in the arch of her foot. After a second’s surprise, a small groan of pleasure escaped her, and she let out a little laugh, clearly embarrassed at making such a sound.
‘That feels really good,’ she admitted, her voice still unsteady.
‘Good.’ Christos continued to work at her foot, watching her sideways to see how she was responding. Slowly her body began to relax. She leaned back against the sofa cushions with a sigh, and when he reached for her other foot and started on that one as well, her eyes fluttered closed.