Baby for the Billionaire(62)

Edging forward, she said, “Why don’t you make yourself at home?”

“Not now, Victoria.” Weariness crept into his voice. He’d had enough of all the sniping between them.

She stared at him for a long moment, then bowed her head. “I’m sorry.”

Connor nodded and closed his eyes. Hearing so sound of movement, he cracked them open. She hadn’t moved. She stood in front of him, looking every bit as drained as he felt.

“You’ll feel better after a shower.”

“Maybe.” Her hazel eyes remained fixed on him. “But right not I don’t really want to be alone.”

“Oh, Victoria!”

Her reluctant admission moved him. She was so fiercely independent. Connor knew for her to reveal any weakness at all meant she must be feeling utterly empty. Dropping his legs down, he reached forward and scooped her off her feet. She landed across his lap with a squeak, a struggling mass of arms and legs.

“I’m wet!” she wailed. “I’m going to soak you, too.”

“Shh.” He bent his head over hers. “Just relax.”

Her body softened instantly. For long minutes he held her, not speaking, not thinking, simply savoring the scent of her, the softness of her body under his soothing palm that rubbed along her back in long strokes.

At last she shifted. “I must be heavy.”

Connor almost groaned as her bottom moved in his lap. Heat shot through his spine and he fought the urge to shudder in reaction. If she’d only stayed still …

Victoria froze. Her head came up, and startled golden-green eyes met his. Connor knew she’d felt his unmistakable reaction. He waited for her to pull away. She didn’t.

“Victoria …?”

With a groan he pulled her toward him. Her parted lips met his, and he sucked in the whisper of her breath. It was a hungry kiss, full of pent-up emotion, of passion long resisted. Connor licked the soft sweetness of her bottom lip, tasting her deeply, and she wriggled closer.

His fingers found the zipper of her dress, and he broke off the kiss. The rasp of the sliding zipper cut across the sound of their ragged breathing. Connor peeled the wet fabric off her shoulders and slid the dress over her hips, down her legs, his gaze all the time holding hers, watching as a flush of passion flooded her pale cheeks.

When the dress was off, he pulled her atop him so that her bare legs straddled his hips. Her naked skin shimmered in the evening light, as pale as pearl against the seductive black satin bra and panties. Connor’s breath caught at the sheer grace of her long limbs and sweet curves.

With shaking fingers she reached forward and undid the buttons of his shirt. “Your shirt is damp, too.”

“Just a little.” He’d gotten wet holding the car door open for her.

Pulling the edges apart, she murmured, “Then it will also have to come off.”

Connor leaned forward and shrugged his arms out of the sleeves. “Anything you say.”

A glint lit her eyes, and her lips curved into a delicious smile. “You should always be so amenable.”

“I’m at your mercy.” He stared at her rosy lush mouth.

She laughed. Driven by an impulse he could not resist, Connor reached out a shaky finger and outlined the full, wide, laughing curse. Her mirth died away, and the pink tip of her tongue came out and touched his finger.

“You undo me, woman,” he said hoarsely, “with one little flick of your tongue.”

“Then what about this?” She trailed a tantalizing finger down his chest, across his stomach, before halting an inch above his belt.

“Tease,” he groaned.

“Your skin is so silken,” whispered Victoria.

His erection leapt. “That’s my line,” he growled, yanking her to him and bending his head forward to ravenously plant a row of kisses along the tempting arch of her throat. Under his lips he felt her throat contract as she gasped. His mouth opened, and he tongued the silky skin. His open mouth slid down, over the narrow slip of black satin that joined the cups of her bra covering her breasts … down farther … savoring the sweetness of her flesh.

Grasping her hips between his hands, he lifted her up and kissed the smooth skin of her belly.

“Connor!” The sound was guttural, full of need and desire.

“Be patient.” His erection strained again his pants, rigid with desperation. He wasn’t so sure that he was capable of following his own command.

She pulled away and settled back astride his lap.

Connor’s back arched instinctively at the contact. “My God, woman.”

He felt the buckle of his belt give under the persuasion of her nimble fingers. His heart skipped a beat as she undid the button below. The sound of his breathing filled the room, hoarse and jagged.

Light danced across his eyelids as he squeezed his eyes shut. Sliding his hands up her sleek back, he reached the catch of her bra and fumbled, his fingers suddenly clumsy.

A cry filled the air.

Victoria’s hands stilled. “Dylan.”

She scrambled off his lap, tugging the clinging black dress over her breasts, and ran to the other side of the room. Lifting the baby out of the infant seat, she turned her head, and Connor’s throat closed up as he read the turbulent confusion in her eyes.

Bewilderment. Guilt. Shame.

And, underneath it all, the heat of desire, too.

Connor rose slowly to his feet.

“Put your shirt back on.” Her voice was a thready croak.

“It’s damp.”

“Please,” she implored.

“Okay.” He pulled it on and watched as she tried to juggle the baby while trying to push her arms back into the wet sleeves of her dress. “Give Dylan here—I’ll entertain him while you change.”

Without meeting his gaze, she thrust the baby into his arms and fled.

How could he have allowed—no, encouraged—that to happen?

Victoria couldn’t believe that she’d almost ended up having sex with Connor. She fastened her jeans and reached for a lambs wool sweater. If Dylan hadn’t woken up …

Oh, God!

How could she have been so foolish? And now she had to leave her bedroom to go back downstairs. She groaned in dismay. It would take all her courage to face Connor after what had happened. And to demand that he never touch her again. They both had a duty to Dylan. As his guardians. Passion couldn’t be allowed to interfere with their responsibilities.

As Dylan’s mother, she couldn’t afford to risk alienating Connor. It would be the height of irresponsibility to let passion rule her—and make her no better than her parents had been.

By the time she entered the living room, she’d pulled herself together, making sure that none of her trepidation showed. The man who’d kissed her to distraction was sitting on the carpet, and the contents of the baby’s diaper bag were strewn around the room.

Connor looked up at her entrance and gave her a sheepish grin. “I figured out how to change his diaper.”

Victoria yanked her gaze away from the chest she’d run her fingers over. Thankfully he’d covered the glorious muscles up with a shirt as she’d requested.

“Congratulations,” she managed and searched for the words to tell him that she did not want him to ever kiss her again—that it was a dereliction of their duties as Dylan’s guardians.

Dylan chose that moment to flap his arms and, gazing at her accusingly, he started to cry. Victoria picked him up, taking care not to brush against Connor’s legs.

“He’s hungry.” Forcing herself to glance at Connor, she said, “There’s a bottle ready in the fridge. Won’t you fetch it please?”

To Victoria’s surprise, Connor went without demur.

As the minutes passed, Dylan grew increasingly fractious. Victoria jiggled him up and down, hushing him, but to no avail, so she started to sing.

When Connor came back, Dylan’s cries intensified at the sight of the bottle.

“Give me a second, Dyl.” As Dylan protested she removed the plastic seal and replaced the top of the bottle, then sank onto the plump cushions of the couch and positioned him in the crook of her arm. “There you go,” she murmured, giving him the bottle.

She resumed humming a snatch of “Big Rock Candy Mountain,” then ceased as she became aware of Connor watching her, a smile lurking around his mouth.

“Don’t stop.”

Flushing, and terribly self-conscious under his intense scrutiny, she said, “I don’t hum—or sing—very well.”

“It sounded fine to me, and more importantly Dylan liked it. Look, he’s complaining because you’ve stopped.”

Victoria glanced down to see Dylan’s mouth working frantically, his tongue clearly visible as he prepared to let out a loud bellow.

“That’s not my humming he’s missing—it’s the teat.” Victoria offered the dislodged teat to him and the baby, latched on with gusto.

She slanted a faint smile up at Connor. “But thanks for saying he was missing it, even if it was the tallest tale I’ve ever heard.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was worse, but we’ll keep that our secret, okay?”

He gave her a long look. “Our secret.”

Suddenly feeling as if her skin had grown too tight, Victoria pulled Dylan closer. The silence surrounding the three of them seemed to quiver.

What in heaven’s name was happening to her? Victoria started to hum again. Anything to break that seething quiet. After a while she switched over to “Old MacDonald Had a Farm” and Connor joined in.