Baby for the Billionaire(72)

Victoria tore her gaze from his.

His hand came up and wrenched the black bow tie from his throat, peeled open the top button of his shirt. Victoria’s breath caught as her attention honed in on the ripple of a pulse under the swarthy skin. She didn’t dare raise her eyes lest she meet his and be scorched by more shudders of desire.

He shifted beside her. Aware of every inch of his long body, of the coiling muscle of his thighs under his dark, formal pants, Victoria stayed absolutely immobile. He leaned closer, and her breath dried up.

God.

“I should—”

“I think I should—”

They both stopped. Victoria gave an awkward laugh, and fluttered a quick sideways glance at him. “I was going to say I should go to bed … it’s been a long day.”

“And I was going to say I should kiss my bride,” said Connor with wry humor.

“Oh.”

She knew he’d seen her alarm because one side of his mouth kicked up.

“I still think I should.” He leaned nearer and, when she did nothing, he pressed his lips to hers.

For a long moment there was no sound.

Then he lifted his head. “Not so scary, was it?”

“I wasn’t scared,” she objected, all too conscious of the hard-edged features and his unblinking silver-gray gaze.

His hand reached out and his fingertips traced her brow bone. “Then why the wide eyes?”

Okay, so maybe she had been scared. Not of him, but of responding too enthusiastically to anything he might try, taking the kiss far beyond the kind of intimacy he intended. Like she did every time he kissed her.

Connor had a knack of making her want … more.

“We agreed no sex. You took me by surprise,” she sputtered.

He laughed. “A kiss is a long way from sex.”

Now he thought she was prissy. Damn. But she wasn’t going to let him roll her over. “It’s a darn good start along the road. Our bargain was that I marry you to give Dylan a stable home. No sex involved.”

“The billion-dollar baby bargain,” he said sardonically, his fingers sliding along her jawline.

“Hey—” the implication annoyed her, and his caress was unsettling “—I’m not doing this for money, you know that. I wouldn’t take a cent from you.”

But despite her heated words her bones were turning to fluid under his tantalizing touch. The citrus and male scent of him surrounded her. And the assault on her senses conspired to make her give a little shiver.

His fingertips came to rest under her chin. “Perhaps I should’ve offered you a million dollars to walk away from your custody and guardian responsibilities?”

Could he be serious? She wasn’t sure. But she decided to rid him of that notion once and for all. “You’re insane. I would never’ve taken it. Dylan is worth more than any amount of money to me.”

“And me, too.” He moved his thumb along her throat until it rested in the soft hollow beneath her ear. “Stalemate. So we’re stuck with each other.”

“But we’re not going to have sex.” She sounded ridiculously breathless.

He smiled, a slow, wolfish smile. “If you’re certain, then why is your pulse beating so fast?”

“It’s not my pulse—it’s yours you’re feeling through your thumb,” she said in a strangled voice.

Connor laughed. And her toes curled up at the sound.

“We’re going to have sex,” he said. “And like I promised, it will be far from casual.”

“You’re so arrogant,” she accused him.

“Think so?”

He moved and she squealed.

“Too late.” His arms were around her shoulders. “I’m not going to let you go.”

“But we agreed—”

“The idea of being married and not making love is …” His voice trailed away as he placed a kiss against her neck.

“Is what?” He’d taken her breath away again—along with her ability to think.

“It’s stupid.” His mouth opened hungrily against her silken skin. “Whose idea was it, anyway?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice was hoarse.

He blew softly, and shivers broke over her skin.

“Million-dollar question—what do you want me to do now, Victoria?”

Was he asking permission? Did Connor really care what she wanted? Or would he just take what he wanted and tumble away, like every man she’d ever known?





Ten


Connor felt her stiffen.

Not giving her time to gather her defenses, he licked the hollow at the base of her throat.

She jumped.

He repeated the caress. This time she groaned, and her body went soft, pliable—no sign of resistance remaining.

Her dressing gown opened with one tug of the sash that she’d tied in a bow. Underneath she wore a white, lacy confection that was likely to drive him insane.

Three buttons teased him.

It took him less than thirty seconds to unfasten them all. He brushed the neckline open, exposing the sweetly scented dip between her breasts. The slopes of her breasts glowed, pale and luminescent. Like a pair of priceless pearls.

Dana had always sported a tan. He forced his thoughts away from Dana, and stroked his hand across the rise of pale skin.

“Beautiful.”

He peeled the lace of the tab away, baring her breasts and covered her with his hands. “See? You fit inside my palms like you were made for them. Why would you want more?”

He could feel himself growing hard.

Releasing her, he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off. Her hands came up and touched the bare skin of his stomach. His muscles pulled taut, and he fought back a groan of delight.

He wanted to murmur, “Touch me, touch me”. But it was too soon.

Instead he lowered his head and kissed the tips of her exposed breasts.

She arched her back, coming off the couch.

Connor opened his mouth, covering her whole nipple and used his tongue.

Victoria moaned, her eyelashes falling against her cheeks. Her head moved restlessly from side to side.

He moved across and sucked on the other nipple, until she shifted and moaned again.

“Like that?”

All he heard was a guttural sound of pure desire.

Connor blew on both nipples, and watched as they hardened and gooseflesh rippled across her breasts and belly. The hunger that took him was raw and primal in its intensity.

Lifting his own head, Connor slipped his hands under the hem of her skimpy nightgown, and stripped it off over her head.

His fingers trembled with want. And his heart was racing, the beat of it pounding in his ears.

He rose to his feet and dropped his pants and boxers.

“Don’t stop,” she remonstrated, opening her eyes. They grew wide as they took in his nakedness, his readiness for her.

He waited for her to back out.

But she didn’t.

Instead she sat up and stroked the length of his erection with her delicate fingers. Connor saw stars. He fell back against the couch and pulled her over him.

“Now,” he whispered.

She straddled him. Before he could shift himself nearer, she’d surrounded him with her hands and drawn him to the entrance of her body. In one swift movement she sank down on him.

Her body was hot and wet and wild around his.

When she started to move, he moved, too. The rhythm that built was full of passion and power. As he thrust upward, Connor felt the heat take him.

He met her gaze, the green-gold eyes wild with emotion. He’d never seen anything … felt anything … so absolutely, perfectly exquisite.

“I can’t hold—” He gasped.

Then pleasure surrounded him as her orgasm hurled her over the edge and the feminine shivers trembled around him.

Victoria awakened to the sound of clinking china. She opened her eyes to the unfamiliar surroundings of Connor’s bedroom. And the domestic picture of Connor clasping Dylan—clad in only a diaper—against his hip, while he carefully poured tea. The dark liquid spilled into two delicate, rose-patterned tea cups arranged on a tray on the chest at the bottom of the bed, much to Dylan’s wide-eyed fascination.

Connor should’ve looked incongruous—he didn’t.

In fact he’d never looked more gorgeous. Wearing only a pair of boxers—and an almost naked baby—he’d never appeared more male. Her gaze lingered on the broad chest on which she’d rested her head before falling asleep in the early hours of the morning.

Images of the intimacies they’d shared last night flashed through her mind.

It had been wonderful. And, as Connor had promised, there had been nothing casual about the experience. Victoria stretched, languorously, slowly becoming aware of all the hidden places where she ached.

“You’re awake,” Connor greeted her as she moved.

She gave a soft groan. He raised a dark eyebrow with interest and she felt her cheeks grow hot.

Before he could say anything—anything at all, however innocent—she said, “Oh, I’m dying for a cup of tea.”

At his slow grin she realized she’d given him an opening for any number of risqué comments, so she simply cooed at Dylan to break the growing hush.

A moment later Connor asked blandly, “Do you want sugar in your tea?”

The incongruity of it all struck her. She’d slept with a man who knew barely anything about her, who didn’t even know how she took her tea. Yet he was her husband—and now he knew exactly what intimacies made her go wild with delight.