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  Once they were back in his bedroom, he asked, “Did you make a wish when you blew out the candles?”

  She rummaged through her bag and found the short, simple nightgown she’d brought. “Isn’t that only for birthday cakes?”

  “I don’t know, but why are you putting on clothes? Don’t you sleep naked?” He was already peeling off his sweat shorts.

  “Typically, no.” And this wasn’t the time to start.

  “Then why don’t you just sleep in my shirt instead? You can unbutton it to make it more comfy.”

  So that she would be seminaked?

  He walked over to her. “I’ll do it for you.”

  She stood like a statue while he made the adjustment. Heaven help her, but she could scarcely breathe. Her fantasy was rattling around in her head all over again. But she needed to stop thinking about it.

  “That’s better.” He dusted his fingers over her protruding nipples. They were showing through the fabric now. “Are you cold?”

  “A little,” she lied. She was still aroused by him.

  “I can warm you up.” He led her to bed, and they got under the covers. He spooned with her, pressing the front of his body to the back of hers. “How’s this?”

  “It’s nice.” So very nice. She was tempted to turn around and initiate another round of sex, but she closed her eyes instead. There was something incredibly sweet about being held by him.

  Sweet and complicated, she thought. For such a rough and reckless man, Tommy had a dreamy side. He reached across her to turn out the light and then settled back into place, where they slept for the rest of the night.

  * * *

  Sophie awakened in a breathless flutter. Tommy had one hand wrapped around her breasts and the other resting low on her stomach. She barely had time to open her eyes, to focus on the light creeping into the room, let alone assess the situation.

  Was he awake and aware of what he was doing? Or was he asleep? In case it was the latter, she kept still, trying not to disturb him. But either way, she liked the position she was in. Her pajama top, the shirt she wore of his, was riding up in the back, and his morning erection was pressed against her bottom.

  She had no idea what time it was, but it seemed early. It hadn’t taken much for him to talk her into sleeping there. She’d given in easily. But that had always been the nature of their relationship. Tommy could convince her to do just about anything.

  As the hand on her stomach moved, sliding toward the V between her legs, Sophie took a stirring breath. He must be awake. Surely he didn’t play around like that in his sleep. Then again, with Tommy anything was possible.

  When he started peppering her neck with suckling little vampire kisses, her pulse jumped. He knew exactly what he was doing.

  “Oh, my,” she said, her voice coming out crackled. “That feels good.”

  “Uh-huh.” His response sounded rough, too. By now, he was spreading her with his fingers, getting ready to stake his masculine claim.

  Sophie knew that she shouldn’t be reacting to him with such desperate passion. He had more than enough women who flocked around him. But she was here for the sake of her baby. It was different for her.

  Different or not, he was making her eager for more. Of course, Tommy had lots of practice. She even remembered the first time he’d gotten laid and how jealous she was. Not that he’d had sex, but that he’d done it with the prettiest and most popular girl at their school.

  She closed her eyes, struggling with the memory. She could have been with him back then, too. She’d just been smart enough to refuse his advances.

  He took his hand away, and she opened her eyes. Had he sensed what she’d been thinking? God help her, but she didn’t want him to stop.

  “Tommy?” she asked in a concerned tone.

  “It’s okay, Soph.” He whispered against her ear. “I just want you to get on your hands and knees so we can do this right.”

  Without hesitation, she removed the shirt so it didn’t get in their way and climbed on all fours. He got behind her and steadied her hips as he rubbed against her. She arched her body, anxious to feel him inside. But first, he undid her braid, removing what was left of the plaiting and letting her hair cascade over her shoulders and down her back. Then, on something akin to a growl, he pushed all the way inside.

  Sophie keened out a moan. She’d been taken this way before, but it hadn’t been as primal as this. With each and every thrust, he tugged on her unbound hair.

  She pushed back against him, meeting his determined strokes. He was at the right angle to stimulate her G-spot. But sex god that he was, he probably already knew that.

  Soon he was doing all kinds of wild things—reaching around to fondle her breasts, biting her neck, scraping his teeth along her collarbone.

  Sophie was on the verge of losing her mind.

  She came hard and fast, jutting and jerking against him. Primed and ready, Tommy exploded, too, groaning and growling and spilling into her.

  In the moments that followed, she collapsed headfirst onto the bed. He scooped her into his arms, and they both rolled over, face-to-face once again.

  * * *

  Sophie relaxed in the bath, or she tried to. The tub was certainly big enough to accommodate two people, so that wasn’t the problem. It was Tommy. They were seated across from each other, and he kept staring at her.

  She splashed some water at him. “Knock it off.”

  “Knock what off?” He tossed the soap in her direction, and it landed directly in front of her.

  “Looking at me in that hot-and-bothered way of yours.” She tried to grab the floating item, but he leaned forward and retrieved it.

  He sat back and said, “I have no idea what you mean.”

  “Yes, you do.” He couldn’t play the innocent. She knew him far too well. “We just had sex, and you’re still thinking dirty thoughts.”

  “So I’m a guy with an active mind.” He placed the French milled soap back in its dish and braced his arms on either side of the tub. The way he reclined made him look regal, like the Nashville prince that he was.

  Gorgeous and oh-so idolized.

  She sighed. “Maybe we should talk about something else.”

  “All right.” He ran a damp hand through his hair. “We can discuss our schedules and plan for what’s ahead. I think you should move in with me while we’re trying to conceive.”

  She blinked at him. “You want me to stay with you?”

  “Not forever. I’m just trying to make the baby-making process easier. It might help for it to happen spontaneously instead of us having to arrange it every time.”

  He probably had a point. But for now she couldn’t think clearly.

  He continued, “You can bring the dogs and horses, the way you always do when we’re on tour. This is already like a second home to them.” He drew up his knees. “Think about it, Soph. We’re going to be together as much as we can, and it doesn’t make sense for us to bed-hop when we could be in the same house.”

  And his mansion was the logical choice, of course, with how big and private and secure it was. “I don’t know. It just seems so...” She didn’t know what word she was searching for. All she knew was that she’d never imagined living with him, not even temporarily. But there was a part of her that liked the idea. It seemed oddly thrilling, somehow, to always be ready for each other. And if it helped make the baby...

  “Did you tell Dottie about us?” she asked, wondering what to expect if she stayed here.

  He shook his head. “I didn’t tell Chef Bryan, either. They didn’t know who I was entertaining last night. But since we’re not keeping our arrangement a secret, I was planning on mentioning it to them today. Come on—move in with me. And as soon as you’re pregnant, you can go back home.”

  “What if it takes six months to conceive?”

 
; “What difference does that make? We’ve practically lived together before. Growing up together as kids, and then all those years on the road.”

  “None of that is the same as our current situation.” Of going to bed together each night. Of waking up beside each other every morning. “You’ve never even had a girlfriend who’s lived with you.”

  “I know. But that’s the beauty of it. We’re not a couple. We’re just making a baby. And we’re used to each other, Soph. I mean, really, how bad can it be?”

  As bored as he got when he wasn’t on tour? It could get bad, she thought. But maybe she was worrying for nothing. He was right about how much time they’d spent together in the past. That definitely counted for something. “All right, we’ll try it. But only for the first month, as a trial period, just to see how it goes.”

  He smiled. “That works for me.”

  “I just hope we don’t get on each other’s nerves.” Or that she didn’t start enjoying it more than he did. With his restless nature, there was no way to be sure.

  “I think it’ll be fine.” He swirled his hand in the bath. “The water is cooling off. Should we have Chef send up some breakfast, then go back to bed?”

  She laughed a little. “You’re insatiable.”

  “I can’t help it if I’m hungry.” He swooped across the tub to kiss her, sloshing the cooling water.

  When his mouth sought hers, she latched on to his shoulders, pulling him closer.

  She was hungry, too.

  Six

  Sophie had been living with Tommy for nearly a week. So far, they’d made love every day. At some point they would take a break and rejuvenate, but for now he wanted to make the most of their time together.

  He glanced over at her. They were both getting dressed, putting on casual clothes. Today they were going to Kirbyville to meet Matt. Tommy had invited Sophie to join him for the family gathering, a picnic by the stream his dad had arranged.

  He was feeling overwhelmed. Not just about meeting Matt, but about how things were playing out with Sophie. Was she enjoying his company? Was their arrangement working for her?

  “Am I getting on your nerves?” he asked.

  “What?” She sent him a baffled stare.

  “You said before that you hoped we weren’t going to get on each other’s nerves, so I’m just checking to see where your head is at now.”

  “I only said that because of how restless you get when you’re not on the road. By next week, you’re probably going to be bored out of your gourd.”

  “Are you kidding? Sex with you is never going to bore me.”

  She batted her lashes. “My own personal sperm donor.”

  He laughed. “Darned right.” He strode over to her, reached out and put his hand on her stomach. “I wonder if it happened yet.”

  “It’s too early to tell.” She looked into his eyes. “And to answer your question, you’re not getting on my nerves. I like playing house with you.”

  “Is that what we’re doing?” He splayed his fingers, where her baby would grow. “Well, whatever it is, I’m glad you’re coming to the picnic with me.”

  “So am I. I want to meet Matt and his fiancée. Her name is Libby, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. “She seems nice enough. She has a six-year-old son. He’s supposed to be there, too.”

  “I didn’t know she had a child.”

  “I guess I forgot to mention the boy to you.” Tommy was still trying to grasp the details himself. “Dad told me that Libby is widowed. That she lost her husband about three years ago.”

  “Oh, how sad. What’s her son’s name?”

  “Chance. And get this—his middle name is Mitchell.”

  “Chance Mitchell?” Sophie’s eyes went wide. “Like the fictitious outlaw from your dad’s song?”

  “Yep. Libby and her late husband were fans of my father’s. She’s probably going to be the only one at the picnic who hasn’t been hurt by my old man.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed to put her boots on. “Kirby has never hurt me.”

  Uncertain about her remark, Tommy asked, “You aren’t hurt that he doesn’t approve of our donor arrangement?”

  “I’m disappointed that he thinks we’re making a mistake. But I’m not hurt.”

  He grabbed his boots and sat next to her. “I totally forgot to tell you that Dad called this morning. He wanted to know if he could include us in the biography.”

  “Us? As in you being my donor?”

  He nodded. “He made a valid point about the time line. The book is scheduled to be released next summer, and if everything goes as planned, you’ll be pregnant or maybe even ready to give birth, and we would’ve made a public statement by then.”

  “Do you think that’s what we should do?”

  “Contact the media ourselves? Definitely. I’d rather take things into our own hands than let the press put a spin on it. I can have my publicist handle it when we think the time is right. But for now, I’ll have everyone who is aware of the situation sign a nondisclosure so it doesn’t get leaked before we’re ready to share the information.” Tommy knew how easily people could turn on you and sell your story for personal gain. He knew how brutal the gossip sites could be, too. “If we agree to have it included in the book, Kirby said that we can tell our side of it. But he wants to be able to state his opinion, too.”

  “And tell the world that he wishes that the child was going to be his official grandbaby? I suppose we can’t fault him for that.” She sighed. “Has he already confided in Libby about it?”

  “Yes, but it won’t go into the book unless we say it’s okay. But I don’t think it’ll matter, either way. The biggest part of the biography will be the unveiling of Dad’s secret son, not the baby you’ll be having.”

  “Well, thank goodness for that.” She tossed him a smile.

  “Yeah. You know Dad. He wouldn’t dare let us upstage him in his own book.” As cute as her smile was, he couldn’t help but frown. “So are you ready for this little family gathering?”

  She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I think the real question is if you’re ready.”

  He avoided the issue. Instead, he said, “Dad already took precautions to keep the picnic private and away from the press, so no one needs to worry about that. He doesn’t think anyone would suspect who Matt really is, anyway. As far as Dad’s household staff knows, he’s just Libby’s fiancé who comes to visit her when she’s there.”

  “That’s not what I meant about you being ready for it. I was talking about you meeting Matt.”

  He finally admitted how he felt. “Honestly? I’m nervous about making a favorable impression on him. I’m not like Brandon. He always gets people to warm up to him. I don’t know how to do that, not without pouring on the celebrity charm, and Matt isn’t going to give a crap about that.”

  “Just be yourself, Tommy.”

  “But that is who I am.” A superstar’s rebellious kid who’d blasted his way to the top, too. “You’ve seen me in action all these years. You know that I’m not good at being a regular guy. If I’m not performing or being the life of the party, I don’t know how to act around people.”

  She kept holding his hand. “If it’s any consolation, Matt is probably as nervous as you are.”

  “No doubt he is.” But Tommy was still worried that he was going to be Matt’s least favorite brother.

  * * *

  By midafternoon, the picnic tables were laden with leftover food and the family had divided into separate groups. Sophie and Tommy’s mom were engaged in girl talk with Libby, and Brandon, Matt and their dad were goofing around with six-year-old Chance and playing tag in the grass. Tommy was the odd man out, just as he’d suspected he would be. He’d barely exchanged more than a few words with Matt. He didn’t know how to interact with Chance, either. He’d never
been particularly good with kids. So instead of joining the men, he walked beside the stream, letting the breeze skim past his face.

  What the hell was wrong with him that he couldn’t just behave like a normal guy? Even his dad was pulling it off. Not that Kirby was in any way average. He used to do weird things, like wear his sunglasses in the house. Not all the time, but often enough for Tommy to recognize the signs of his old man’s hangovers. Dad used to find all sorts of ways to shut out the family. But today, Kirby looked like Grandpa of the Year, with how easily he was playing with Libby’s son.

  When Matt took a break from tag to grab himself a cold drink, Tommy decided to approach him. Matt was only going to be in Nashville for a few days, and he would be spending most of that time with Kirby. If Tommy wanted to make a halfway-decent first impression on his brother, he needed to do it today.

  He headed over to Matt, and as they stood beside the cooler, Tommy asked, “Will you grab me a bottle of sparkling berry water?”

  “Sure.” The Texan reached into the ice chest and handed him one.

  “Thanks.” Tommy twisted the cap, and they gazed awkwardly at each other. Matt was tall, like Tommy, with a long, lean frame, but other than that, they didn’t resemble each other. The other man had short black hair, dark skin from his mother’s Cherokee side and stunning amber-colored eyes. He owned a recreational ranch in the Texas Hill Country that was a major success, but he still carried himself like a down-home guy.

  “So how’s it going?” Tommy asked. It was all he could think to say.

  “Fine. How’s it going with you?”

  “I’m all right.” But this conversation was stilted. They both took a swig from their drinks.

  After a beat of silence Matt said, “Everyone says you’re like him.”

  Tommy hated the comparison to his father. “I’m not. Or maybe I just hope I’m not. He can be such an SOB at times, with that arrogant manner of his.”