Page 11 of Pregnant After One Forbidden Night

CHAPTER THREE

SEBASTIANHADSEENmore naked women than he could count or remember.

Jenna erased any recollections that remained.

Her body was a work of art.

Her efficiency, her matter-of-fact lack of artistry in removing the layers of her uniform, should have been off-putting to a man who had been entertained by the world’s most accomplished sex kittens.

It wasn’t.

Instead, the deft and direct work of her fingers was the most erotic dance he’d ever witnessed.

Fully revealed, she was swarthy, her freckled skin olive, the soft hair on her arms, legs, neck dark, and at the V of her thighs thick and glossy.

Like her eyebrows, the liberal hair on her body simply accentuated rather than detracted from the perfect and straightforward beauty of her form. It drew the eye to the slender length of her forearm, the elegant arch at the nape of her neck, the shadowed and graceful contours of her shoulder blades, a natural accent and frame to her raw beauty.

As feminine as it was, her body was also extremely fit—toned and defined, as he would have expected of any person who had made a profession out of using their body as a weapon.

Her breasts, on the other hand, defied her chosen life, full and round, each one more than a handful and proud of it. Those breasts spoke of happy families and sunny hillsides—images that generally repelled him but somehow now only enhanced the fantasy of the moment.

Unsurprisingly, her bra was simple and white.

However, whilst he would have expected plain cotton, the garment was made of lace and paired with a matching pair of lace panties. Unusually, thick and durable, the material he was so familiar with seeing on women looked new on her and he suspected it was handmade.

What a security guard was doing wearing a small fortune’s worth of handmade lace undergarments, he had no idea, but the effect was breathtaking.

In her ability to arrest him, to stir him past control merely by seeing her—she was truly as singular as he’d claimed.

Nothing he’d said to her thus far had been a lie.

He was, however, beginning to wonder if one taste would have the quelling effect he anticipated. Putting to rest the mystery of what lay beneath the stiff blue of her uniform certainly hadn’t.

It had only stoked the fire.

When she moved to take off her bra, he stopped her with a fingertip to her plump lips. Her eyes fluttered to his, and he felt the earth shift, filling him with an urgent need to hold on as everything changed around him, though the only sound in their secluded library alcove was their weighted breathing.

Having undressed faster than her, he stood nude, entirely at ease in his form. A lover had once teased him that it was easy to be comfortable when one was built like he was, but his ease went deeper than that.

He was comfortable in the nude because it was possible to learn so much about people when one was naked. What they liked... Jenna’s eyes lingered over his chest and shoulders, trailing across his skin like the brush of a feather. What they were ashamed of... Her cheeks flushed as her gaze traveled down his chest, slowly, painstakingly if he were being honest, before lighting on the appendage that stood out proudly at the apex of his thighs. What they were afraid of... Her breath stopped, her pupils dilated and froze, eyes remaining locked on his sex organ for an eternity before she finally gave a small gasp and her eyes darted back up to his face.

Again, her stare captured him, in a way only hers seemed to have the power to. This wouldn’t stop, not until he had experienced the profound uniqueness of encountering her.

Why did her eyes freeze him in time and space?

They were an unflinching walnut color, each iris lined in kohl as if an Egyptian queen had designed their depths.

Shielding the enormous almond-shaped windows of her soul were eyelashes so densely packed it looked like she wore mascara when, in truth, she wore no makeup at all.

Everything about her was fresh and honest—her entire self, out on display for the world to see.

For him to see at the moment.

“Take out your braid.” His voice was a rasping command, harsh and more desperately revealing than he would have liked.

She shook her head. “You do it.” Her voice was thick but smooth; sweetness turned into nourishment like honey.

Though he noted the defiance, he chose to comply, turning the act of reaching slowly behind her to grasp the end of her long braid and draw it to him, over her shoulder, cool and soft between his fingers, into a seduction.

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