The Bryants: Powerful & Proud

‘I wouldn’t say that.’ He reached out one powerful hand and closed it around her wrist, pulling her slowly and inexorably towards him. Zoe didn’t resist. She couldn’t; already she felt that heavy languor steal through her veins, take over her brain. She was just way too attracted to this man. ‘I’d say it’s just beginning.’

Aaron pulled her onto his sprawled thighs, his hands on her hips so she was straddling him. She felt the press of his erection against the juncture of her own thighs and pleasure bolted straight through her. It took all her will-power not to press back, not to admit with her body how much she wanted him. She needed to keep some kind of pride. Some kind of defence.

‘A different kind of party,’ Aaron murmured and slid his hands up along her hips and waist to cup her breasts only briefly and then frame her face. He brought her forward to brush his lips against hers, and distantly Zoe realised this was the first time they’d kissed.

It started gently but within seconds it flamed into something else entirely—something deep, primal and urgent. His tongue slid inside the warmth of her mouth and his hips rocked against hers—and so much for her pride, because she rocked back helplessly, her body taking over, already desperately seeking release.

His hands slid back down to her waist, and then to her thighs, and he edged the dress over her bottom so it was rucked about her waist. She was bare below except for a skimpy thong. He slid his fingers along the silky length of her thigh to the heat of her. ‘No phones here,’ he murmured, and Zoe would have laughed except he was kissing her again. His fingers were working deft magic, and all she could think about was how much she wanted this.

In one easy movement Aaron rolled her onto her back so she was splayed out on the fur rug, her dress still around her waist. Aaron lay poised over her, his cheeks faintly flushed, his eyes gleaming with desire, his breath a little ragged. He looked beautiful, dark and powerful and he stole Zoe’s breath away.

He tugged down the zip of her dress and in just a few seconds it was gone, tossed to the side of the room. Zoe stared up at him, wearing only a strapless bra and matching thong, wondering what Aaron Bryant would do with her now. Willing him to do just about anything.

‘I’m amazed you managed to fit a phone in here at all,’ he said, and ran his hand between her breasts, along her stomach, then dipping once more between her thighs. Zoe arched helplessly against his hand, and Aaron slid her panties off her. The bra followed soon after.

She lay there, naked and supine on the rug, every sense spinning into aching awareness. She supposed, distantly, that she should feel bare, exposed, nervous, but she felt none of that. All she felt was a glorious anticipation, an unbearable readiness. Aaron bent his head to her and his hands, lips and tongue seemed to be everywhere at once, teasing, tasting, tormenting her.

She tangled her hands in his hair, surprised by its softness, for everything else about him was so hard: eyes, mouth, body, attitude. Heart. But his hair was soft and she ran her fingers through it, glorying in it even as she arched and writhed beneath him, as his mouth and hands brought her to the brink of that pleasurable precipice again and again.

And then, with a quick rustle of foil, he slid on a condom and drove inside her in one single stroke. He lay suspended above her, braced on his forearms, his body fully inside hers. For one breathless moment he gazed down at her, his eyes blazing dark fire, and Zoe felt something in her lurch, shift. She saw need and something deeper flare in Aaron’s eyes, and for a second this seemed like more than sex.

Then he started to move and she wrapped her legs around his waist to bring him even closer. The moment became one of raw, primal passion, and then one of endless pleasure.

When it was over Aaron rolled onto his back and Zoe lay there, spent and breathless, her mind spinning for a few glorious minutes before she returned to earth with a dull thud. The party was over, she knew, and she didn’t relish being dismissed now that she’d served her purpose. She was pretty sure that was how Aaron treated his women, at least his one-night stands, of which she was most assuredly one. Surreptitiously she rolled over and reached for her discarded underwear, only to have Aaron stay her arm.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’

‘I need to get going,’ Zoe answered, keeping her voice light. ‘Not that the sushi wasn’t delicious.’

Aaron let out a low rumble of laughter, surprising her. For a man who didn’t joke, he’d still managed to laugh twice this evening, a thought which absurdly pleased her. What did she care if he laughed?

‘Not so fast,’ he said and pulled her towards him. Her body instinctively slid around his, her soft places finding his hard ones, so they fit like two pieces of a puzzle. ‘We need to find my bed.’

She felt a thrill at his gruffly spoken words, a ridiculous, huge thrill. He wanted her to stay? She hesitated, knowing the better, safer thing to do would be to leave. She knew herself, knew her weaknesses. Sex was sex to a man like Aaron, but to her it was something else. No matter what her head dictated, she couldn’t keep her heart from always insisting this was the one, this was love. And already she sensed that she would fall harder and longer for a man like Aaron than any of the other men she’d known. Feeling anything but basic, primal lust for Aaron Bryant bordered on the utterly insane.

‘Well, actually… .’ she began, and that was as far as she got. Aaron was smoothing his hands over her bottom, as if he were touching a rare silk, then his fingers slid between her legs and she gave up the battle she hadn’t really been fighting. ‘You have a bed?’ she managed, and with a throaty chuckle—his third laugh—he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his bedroom and his wonderful, king-sized bed.

Hours later Zoe lay in that bed with dawn’s first pale fingers streaking across the city sky and watched Aaron sleep. She was exhausted, totally sated, and as she looked at him she felt a little dart of sorrow arrow inside her. She didn’t regret this night; it had been too amazing for that. But as she looked at his face softened with sleep, his lashes feathering his cheeks and his softly sculpted lips slightly parted, she wished things could be different. That Aaron was a different kind of man.

Don’t, she warned herself. Don’t do it again. Don’t insist you’re in love with a complete ass. She’d only done that about four times before. Millie always teased her about the emotional toe-rags she dated, and Zoe usually laughed it off. After all, it was true. But that didn’t make it hurt less.

Silently she slipped from the bed and went in search of her clothes. The last of the moonlight spilled into the living room, bathing the chrome and glass with a pearly sheen even as the horizon pinkened with the promise of a new day. Zoe dressed quickly and, with one last bittersweet glance towards the bedroom, she left.

Three weeks later Zoe had done her best to forget that incredible night with Aaron Bryant, although she couldn’t keep herself from surreptitiously scanning the headlines of the tabloids and gossip magazines for a glimpse of his name. She saw a photograph of him at a movie premier with a gorgeous B-list actress and felt something inside her tighten, twist. Surely not jealousy? she asked herself. It would be incredibly, criminally stupid to be jealous. Aaron Bryant meant nothing to her, and she obviously meant nothing to him. Their one night, fantastic as it had been, was over.

Resolutely she went to work at The Daisy Café, a funky, independent coffee shop in Greenwich Village where she worked part-time as a barista. She went to the community centre where she worked afternoons as an art therapist, and tried to keep away from the tabloids.

One afternoon in early September she was working at the café when the smell of the coffee beans nearly made her lose her breakfast.

‘I must be coming down with something,’ she told Violet, her co-worker, a young woman of nineteen who had multiple piercings and hair dyed like her name. ‘The smell of coffee is making me sick.’

Violet raised her eyebrows. ‘If I don’t know better, I’d think you were pregnant.’ Zoe just stared at her, all the blood draining from her face, and Violet pursed her lips. ‘Uh-oh.’

As soon as her shift ended Zoe bought a pregnancy test, telling herself she was being ridiculous. Aaron had used protection, after all. She probably just had some kind of stomach flu, but just to be safe…

She took the test in the tiny bathroom of her studio apartment, sitting on the edge of the tub while she watched two pink lines blaze across the little screen.

Pregnant.

She sat there, the test in hand, utterly in shock and completely numb. Yet as that blankness wore off she probed the emotion underneath like a sore tooth or a fresh scar and realised, to her surprise, it wasn’t dismay or fear that she felt. It was almost…excitement. Happiness.

She shook her head, incredulous at her own emotions. A baby. The baby of a man she barely knew, didn’t even like. And yet…a baby. A child, her child, already nestled inside her, starting to grow. She pressed one hand against her still-flat tummy in a kind of dazed incredulity.

She wanted this baby. Despite all the challenges and difficulties of being a single mother on a small salary, she wanted to have this child. She was thirty-one years old, and a happy-ever-after wasn’t likely to be in her future. This was her chance to be a mother, a chance to find her own kind of happiness. And, even though the baby was no more than the size of a bean, it was there. And she wanted to nurture that tiny life, that part of her.

Over the next few days she wished she had someone to talk to, but none of her friends were remotely interested in pregnancy or babies, and ever since Millie had lost her husband and young daughter three years ago Zoe hadn’t felt like she could burden her with her problems—and certainly not this. Children were still a no-go area for Millie.

There was, Zoe knew, at least one person she needed to talk to. Aaron, no matter how hands-off he intended to be—and, frankly, she hoped that was considerable—still needed to know he was going to be a father. Zoe didn’t relish that conversation, but it didn’t appear to be one she was going to have any time soon, for every time she called Bryant Enterprises and asked for Aaron she was put off by a prissy-sounding secretary.

She left message after message with her name and number, but a week went by of her calling every day and he never phoned back. Annoyed, she considered not telling him at all, but she knew she could never keep such a devastating secret. And, in any case, that kind of lie of omission would likely come back and bite her. Which left one other option, she decided grimly.

It didn’t take too much effort to get Aaron’s mobile number from Chase on a rather flimsy pretext of needing sponsors for a charity event she was supposed to be coordinating for the community centre, but when she tried his mobile he didn’t answer that either. Jerk.

Ten days after she’d first taken the test Zoe resorted to a text message, which seemed appropriate, considering how a phone had figured in their first encounter.

Grimly she typed in the four words she’d decided would convey her situation to her baby’s father:

I’m pregnant, you ass.

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