Here I Am (Arabesque) - By Rochelle Alers Page 0,86
he could see her face. “You have to ask me why? Isn’t loving you enough, or do you want more?”
“Hell, yeah, I want more, Brandt Wainwright. I have your love, but I also want you to promise you’ll be a faithful husband, a loving and supportive father and you’ll let me do whatever it takes to make you happy.”
His smile was dazzling. “Did you just say yes?”
Ciara sucked her teeth. “I can’t believe I’ve fallen in love with a dumb jock.”
The last word had just slipped past her lips when she found herself straddling Brandt’s lap, his hardness pressing against her mound over her nightgown. Gripping the front, he pulled at the cotton fabric, rending it from neckline to knee.
“No!”
Brandt flashed a feral grin. “Oh, yes.” Anchoring his hands under her knees, he pulled her legs up and over his shoulders, her back resting on his thighs, her head dangling over his knees. “Let the games begin,” he crooned, cradling her bottom in his large hands.
Ciara cried out, then swallowed a moan when his mouth covered her mound; his tongue moving in and out of her vagina made her feel as if she were having an out-of-body experience. Arms flailing and head thrashing wildly, she forgot to breathe, leaving her lightheaded and close to fainting.
She felt the flutters growing stronger and stronger. Ciara gasped again when Brandt lowered her legs and entered her in one sure, strong thrust. Now they were equals. Anchoring her hands on the sides of the stool, she moved up and down on his erection.
Brandt was transfixed by the firm bouncing breasts and the expression of pure carnality sweeping over her sensual features, unable to believe she was his—forever. Their lovemaking was different, deeper, more satisfying. She’d become a Wainwright—his Wainwright woman even before they’d exchanged vows.
Her hot flesh squeezed his tightly, eased and then squeezed him again—this time tighter and longer than the previous one. “Oh, baby! Please, please, baby!” he pleaded shamelessly. “Please let it go.”
Ciara did let it go, love flowing from her heart and her body. “I love you, I love you,” she chanted over and over until it became a litany.
Brandt waited for his heart to resume its normal rhythm, then buried his face between her neck and shoulder. “Game over.”
Ciara giggled. “Who won?”
“No one. It’s a tie.”
Running her fingertips up and down his moist back, Ciara exhaled audibly. “Yes,” she whispered after a comfortable silence. “Yes, Brandt, I will marry you.”
“When, baby?”
“Next year. After the Super Bowl.”
Brandt pressed a kiss under her ear. “Would you be opposed to a destination wedding?”
“I’d love a wedding on the beach with the ocean as the backdrop.”
Lines fanned out around his eyes when he smiled. No tie! “How many babies do you want?”
Her hands stilled. “Let’s start with one, then take it from there.”
“I thought you’d want at least two or three, only child.”
Ciara laughed softly. “Slow down, sport. There’s plenty of space on this floor to put in at least four bedrooms.”
“I can live with that.”
“Can you live without football, Brandt?”
Her question gave Brandt pause. He didn’t want Ciara to think he was giving up the game for her; he was giving it up because it was time for him to walk—if not limp—away. “What I don’t want to live without is you. Playing football was a temporary detour in my life’s game plan. Fortunately, I have options many other athletes will never have. I can join the real-estate business, or I can go into business for myself.”
Ciara realized she didn’t know the man she’d promised to marry as well as she should. “Why type of business would you set up for yourself?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you can help me make up my mind.” Brandt didn’t tell her that he’d contemplated buying The Informer. He knew nothing about running a newspaper, but he’d always been a quick study.
“I’m certain if we put our heads together we can come up with something viable,” Ciara said. She shrugged what was left of the nightgown off her shoulders. “You owe me a nightgown, Brandt Wainwright.”
“Sorry about that, babe. I guess I got a little excited.”
Ciara’s eyebrows lifted. “Only a little?”
“Okay, a lot, only because you’re a helluva sexy chick.”
“This sexy chick better let you get ready for your press conference. Where is it?”
“Aziza made arrangements for it to be held in one of the conference rooms at Wainwright Developers. I want you to come with me.”
“No, Brandt. You have to do this alone. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here when you get back.”
He ran a finger down the length of her nose. “We’re going to get the person who leaked that information to Poppy, and when we do they’ll pay.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. You know what they say about karma.”
“Yes. It’s a bitch.”
Ciara sobered, wondering if it was Victor who harbored a grudge because she’d rejected him. What, she mused, was her recourse? Would she be able to sue him over disclosing factual information? His defaming her character by calling her a gold digger was another matter. He was a control freak, but he was also a brilliant, selfless surgeon who’d helped countless people reclaim their lives. She had to determine what was more important—her pride or his brilliance.
“If it was Victor, then I don’t want you to do anything to him. My marrying you is punishment enough. His knowing I’m going to lie down next to you every night and see your face when I wake every morning is enough. And when I give birth to your babies and not his—that will, as they say in the South, ‘take the rag off the bush.’”
Brandt stared at Ciara, his eyes making love to her. “How did I get so lucky?”
Curving her arms under his shoulders, Ciara kissed Brandt’s thick neck. “I keep asking myself the same thing, and so far I haven’t come up with an answer. Maybe after we celebrate our golden anniversary we’ll come up with an answer.”
“Do you think I’ll still be able to get it up fifty years from now?” Brandt teased.
“Of course. There is no excuse for erectile dysfunction with the number of pills on the market.”
Throwing back his head, he laughed loudly. “I suppose Daddy will still be smoking.”
“Daddy will be all right as long as Mama doesn’t put out his fire.” They laughed, sharing the moment when all was right in their world.
Brandt set Ciara on her feet, then reached for the canes several feet away. “After the press conference, I’m coming back to pick you up and we’re going shopping for rings. I’ll also make arrangements for your mother to come down and meet the family.”
“What if we let our mothers select the locations, and then we just show up?”
Again, it wasn’t for the first time that Brandt couldn’t believe he’d found someone like Ciara. He loved her. His family liked her. And she’d charmed the pants off Wyatt Wainwright.
Football had been good to and for him, but spending the rest of his life with Ciara was something even more special, and he couldn’t wait to make her a Wainwright woman.
HERE I AM
ISBN: 978-1-4268-8899-1
Copyright © 2011 by Rochelle Alers
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21