Baby for the Billionaire(92)

That did it. He caught hold of the lapels of her robe and reeled her in. Her warmth collided with his, her soft curves locking with stunning perfection against his hard-cut angles. He released her robe and sank his fingers into the mass of inky ringlets spilling down her back. They wrapped around him in joyous abandon, allowing him to anchor her close.

“Did it feel temporary last night when we made love?” he demanded. “Does it feel temporary when you’re in my arms like this?”

He could read her uncertainty. “You know that’s not what we agreed—” she began.

His mouth tightened. “I’m changing the terms of our agreement.”

He didn’t give her an opportunity to reply, stopping the incipient argument with a kiss. He kissed her with a passion that had little to do with Isabella and everything to do with his own selfish desires. Her reaction was instantaneous. She returned his embrace with an urgency that stole every thought but one. To lose himself in her. To join them in a way that would defy any and all attempts to force them apart. To bind and blend and mate one unto the other until two became one.

She must have felt something similar because she looked up at him and the longing in her eyes nearly unmanned him. “Please, Jack. Make love to me.”

A final rational thought kept him from doing just that. “You’re exhausted.”

She shook her head. “Not that exhausted. Never that exhausted.”

He couldn’t resist. In all honesty, he didn’t want to. He tugged at the belt anchoring her robe. It parted, revealing the paper-thin nightgown beneath. A brush of his hands sent the robe fluttering around their feet in a pool of vibrant aqua silk. Next he captured the two straps of her nightgown and drew them down her shoulders, baring her desire as he bared her. His clothing followed until all that remained between them was pure desire, a white-hot blaze that drove them toward the bed.

She sank into the mattress and lifted her arms to him, offering herself like some pagan goddess. He didn’t hesitate. He claimed what she gave so willingly, branding her with his weight and desperate urgency. He found her breasts and claimed those as well, teasing them to rigidness with his teeth and tongue. Her arms enfolded him, pulling him closer still. And he sank into her heat, feeling the lap of it surround him, hearing the roar of it burning in his ears.

“I need this. I don’t think I can survive without it. Not anymore.”

“I’m here,” she whispered in her siren’s song. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“No, you’re not.” Somehow it didn’t come out as an agreement, but more as a warning. “You’re mine now, and I protect and hold what’s mine.”

Amusement glittered in her witch gold eyes. “We’re not possessive, are we?”

“Only with some things.” He swept a hand from breast to thigh. Mine, his touch seemed to say. He couldn’t seem to help it, his need to cleave to her had grown beyond his capacity to control. He tried to explain how he felt, fumbling over the unfamiliar words. “Now that I’ve found you, I don’t want to lose you. Now that I’ve had you, I don’t think I can go back to how it was before you were part of my life.”

“Then don’t.”

There was so much more he longed to say. To explain. But he no longer possessed the ability. So he told her without words. He knew what she liked, what brought her the most pleasure. And he gave it to her. Each caress built, one on the other, and she clung to him as though she’d never let him go.

She trembled beneath his questing hand—the elegant line of her spine, the velveteen swell of her breast, the sweet curve of her thigh. He cupped the downy center of her passion, feeling the gathering tension and delicate quaking of a woman teetering on the verge. He drew her legs around his waist and drove slowly into her, losing himself in the delicious warmth. Her sigh of pleasure slid over him, sank deep inside to the very core of him, to that final place of coldness. With each ebb and flow, they moved ever closer. The eruption came, more powerful and overwhelming than any before.

He took her. Made her his. Let go of the final fragments of his control. When he did, the last sliver of ice melted. And in its place came love, a love he’d never anticipated or asked for. Never even thought possible.

But come it did.





Nine




Naturally, Mrs. Locke chose the worst possible time to arrive on their doorstep, descending six weeks after the birth of the puppies.