Southern Gentleman (Charleston Heat 3)
“Be sure to join the studio’s prenatal Facebook group,” Katie says as she collects our blocks. “It’s a great way to meet other mamas and stay in touch with each other.”
I make a mental note to do just that when I get home.
I introduce myself to everyone I pass on the way out and even manage to chat up Fiona and snag Hallie’s number. I don’t know much about this whole motherhood thing, but I have an inkling that finding good mom friends is going to be hard. I’m not about to let this opportunity slip through my fingers.
Leaving the studio, I’m walking on clouds. I feel light. At ease.
Comforted, knowing I’m okay, and normal, and just fine, just as I am. No matter what I’m feeling or thinking at that particular moment.
Knowing my body is still there and so am I. Buried somewhere beneath all that first trimester awfulness.Chapter Twenty-OneJuliaI admit to being one of those people who thought yoga wasn’t a “real” workout. But I’m already sore by the time I get home, and I end up passing out cold on my sofa for two hours because I’m so spent.
Class soothed me, but my hand still shakes a little as I lock my door and head down to the driveway later that evening.
I’m nervous about meeting Grey’s family. And excited.
And nervous.
The engine of his Yukon throbs in the driveway. A low, threatening sound.
His eyes follow me through the windshield. Like always.
He’s got one hand on the wheel. Like always.
He lifts two fingers in greeting. I climb inside the car.
But unlike always, he leans across the center console and kisses my mouth. Scruff catching on my skin.
He smells clean. Like body wash. Hair is still wet and neatly combed. He must’ve just gotten out of the shower.
My eyes flutter shut. Desire flooding the space between my skin and bones, gathering in my core.
I’m acutely aware of how close his body is to mine. An awareness that’s new. Delicious.
I open my eyes. As delicious as he looks in jeans and a blue v-neck sweater.
I’m really liking these weekend versions of Greyson.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
I meet his eyes. Jesus, were they always so piercing?
“I took a prenatal yoga class this afternoon that I absolutely loved. So that made me feel great.”
He grins. “Awesome. I’m glad you gave it a try.”
“But right now, I admit I’m a little nervous.”
About meeting your family.
About how much I want you.
He reaches over and puts a hand on my thigh, just above my knee. Gives me a small squeeze that’s both reassuring and wildly arousing.
“If you can handle the Starks, you can handle my family. They’re going to love you. What’s that?” He nods at my hands.
“My favorite Chardonnay,” I reply, holding up one hand. I hold up the other. “And a signed copy of my current favorite read—Olivia’s My Romp With the Rogue. I’m on my third read of it. I’ve kind of taken it upon myself to be her one-woman marketing team here in town, so I’m always passing along copies of her books. I figure your mom might appreciate it. Maybe your dad, too.”
Grey’s lips twitch. “Are you suggesting My Romp With the Rogue is going to have my mom waking up my dad in the middle of the night to have a romp of their own?”
“Yup,” I say, grinning.
“First of all, ew. Second—the sex scenes are that good, huh?”
“They’re that good.”
“As good as ours are?”
The question hangs in the air between us for one beat. Another.
I’m grinning. He’s grinning.
Feeling blooms inside my chest. Along with the heady longing pumping through my veins, it’s a lethal combination.
“Jury’s still out,” I say at last. “Think I’m going to need to experience a few more before I decide.”
“That can be arranged.”
He slides his hand up my thigh. Growls when his pinkie flirts with the inner seam of my jeans.
“You’re hot,” he says. “You feel hot right here.”
“No shit. You smell so good—Grey, you look so good—I’m surprised I haven’t melted into a puddle yet.”
He growls again.
“Fu-uck, Julia.” He pulls back his hand and spears it through his hair. Takes a noisy breath through his nose, lets it out as he cuts me a glance. “Dinner will be two hours, tops. We can make it ’til then, right? I want you, baby. So bad. Right now. But once I start touching you I know I’m not gonna be able to stop.”
I resist the urge to squirm.
“We can make it. I think.”
Greyson puts the car in drive. “Brunch. Talk to me about how brunch with the girls was before I break the zipper of my fucking fly.”
“Brunch.” I clear my throat, giving my most stretchy pair of jeans a tug. “Right. The girls want to throw me a baby shower, which means I should probably put together a registry. I’d like your help with that. Researching what we need. Picking it all out.”