Page 39 of Richard

Ending the kiss, he pressed his forehead on hers and took a deep breath to steady himself.

“Christ!” he whispered, his breath fanning her skin. “Do you need any other explanation?”

She was still shaken, her body trembling with need. Dropping her head against his chest, she closed her eyes and breathed in his scent.

“I don’t know what to do.”

He cradled her face between his hands and felt the wry amusement taking over. He wanted to propose to her. Good God! He had made love to her several times without using anything, and he doubted that she was in any form of protection.

She could be carrying his seed inside her, and the thought of that, the very idea of seeing her big with his baby, was doing some really funny things to his insides.

“Let me love you," he said gruffly. “Let me show you how it’s supposed to be.”

Her fingers were digging into his chest.

“Is it just an affair?”

His thumbs stroked her cheeks slowly. “You are a smart woman; what do you think?

After what we have shared that night in my office and now, do you honestly don’t know what’s happening between us?”

She started to shake her head, but his hands cupping her face restricted her movements. “It cannot be anything else.”

“Because of what you went through.”

“And also because of who you are.”

“It’s too late," he told her gently. “In case you have not been paying attention, we are in a relationship.” He kissed her lightly, rubbing her lips open.

“Accept it, darling.” Before she could protest, he plunged his tongue into her mouth and very soon was ravishing her lips, making her body melt against his.

Richard was accustomed to existing on four hours—maybe five hours of sleep. So, he was wide awake while she was curled against him, fast asleep. They had fought about her spending the night.

“I have to go home.”

“Give me one good reason why.” He had held her close to him, easily resisting her effort to get off the bed.

“I cannot be seen coming out of your place the next morning.”

“We are fairly private here, and it does not matter to me who sees you.”

“It matters to me. I cannot afford people gossiping about us.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday,” he pointed out reasonably.

“And I had planned to go in and catch up on some work.”

“I plan on keeping you in bed for the better part of the day.”

“Doing what?”

His thick brows had lifted at that silly question.

“I have to go home.”

He had ended the argument by covering her body with his.

Afterward, he retrieved the rest of their meal, and they ate it in bed. Now, she was curled up against him, her head on his chest.

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