Page 33 of The Baby His Secretary Carries

“You won’t need to stop.” She was pretty sure she would die if he stopped.

The doors opened and he whirled her out, then swept her down the hall, barely allowing her feet to touch the floor.

Inside the suite, all the lingering staff were gone. It was tidy and quiet, and dimly lit by a single lamp throwing golden light against the shadows.

Nerves struck and Molly brought her hands to her ear, as she started to remove her earring.

“You should take this necklace. I don’t want anything to happen to these.”

He shrugged off his tuxedo jacket and threw it over the back of the couch, then tugged his bow tie loose as he walked to the door into the bedroom.

As he stood there, opening his cuffs and setting fire to her with his gaze, he said, “I would love to strip you naked where you stand and have you on the floor,bella, but I just promised to take care with you. Come into the bedroom. I want you in my bed.”

Her knees almost gave out.

Shakily, she crossed toward him, offering the one earring she had managed to remove.

He took it, then kept her hand as he drew her into the room and lazily closed the door behind her.

“I want to ask you what you like, but I don’t want to hear about other lovers right now.” He touched her shoulders to turn her, then his fingers searched under her hair for the clasp of the necklace. “Lift your hair.”

She did, thinking she should warn him that her other lovers were as scarce as her sexual experience. It was another reason she was stealing this chance with him. No one had ever aroused her beyond idle curiosity. No one made her burn with the simple act of unclasping a necklace or lowering the zip of her dress.

“Stay just like that,” he said of the way she held her hair gathered against her crown. “You’re very beautiful.” His voice seemed to resonate from the depths of his chest. His hot breath stirred the fine hairs at the back of her neck and the cool links of the necklace tickled her skin as he kept hold of it while shifting his fist to her shoulder. His other hand traced down her spine, sending more of those sharp tingles into her breasts and lower. A throbbing ache settled between her thighs.

Hot, hot kisses touched every single vertebra until he was on his knees behind her, dragging the gown down into a puddle on the floor. She was braless and, a few kisses later, divested of the lace that had graced her hips.

“I have a small obsession with your ass,” he informed her in that gritty, erotic voice. He set a damp kiss on one cheek. As he rose, his hand trailed its way up her inner thigh, dipping ever so briefly toward the heat at her center before lingering to fondle each of her cheeks.

Then he was turning her into his arms. His shirt and trousers abraded her skin as he pulled her close.

“You’re still fully dressed and I’m...” Wearing only shoes and a hard blush. Her hand reflexively shielded her mound.

“Oh, I am very aware,” he said with molten satisfaction. He brought her hands to the buttons on his shirt while his own shaped her hips and waist, and spread over the subtle curve of her belly.

She faltered in trying to release his shirt buttons, shooting a look upward, worried how he was reacting to that evidence of her pregnancy, but his gaze was eating up her naked form. He was hungrily taking her in all the way to her toes, then coming back to her anxious eyes with a dazzled gleam in his own.

“You’re so beautiful,” he growled before he dove his fingers into her hair and sealed his mouth to hers.

A thousand sensations accosted her—the light pull on her hair that held her captive to his ravenous kiss. The rough-sweet way he devoured her lips and tagged her tongue with his own. The sense of being overwhelmed by him, by his wide shoulders and height. The crispness of his shirt against her hand, then the hot satin and fine hairs and underlying strength when she bared his chest. His torso scorched her own as they pressed closer. His possessive arm banded her against him and waves of pleasure emanated from the way his palm drew slow circles on her backside.

She could hardly bear how good it all felt and threaded her arms beneath his shirt, clinging around his waist as she strained to deepen their kiss, rubbing her breasts against his chest as she did.

When her knee instinctively came up, he took full advantage. He trapped it against his waist with his elbow. His palm slid to the underside of her butt cheek and his long fingers began to play in the eager slickness that had welled against her folds.

“Gio,” she gasped.

“I have you. I won’t let you fall.” He tilted her and dipped his head, capturing her nipple to lick and lave and suck until she was groaning. All the while, his touch explored and discovered the spot that made her breath catch.

She clung across his shoulders, head falling back, never imagining she could be this helpless and uninhibited.

She wasn’t. Not really.

“Gio, please,” she sobbed.

“You’re so close,bella,” he said, offering one more lingering stroke of his fingertip across her swollen clit before he eased her upright. “I would never drop you, I swear.”

She wanted to believe that, but she knew that one day, she would walk away, and she had a very strong feeling that despite all her warnings, he would not take it well. He wasn’t used to being rejected.

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