The Billionaire's Baby Bargain(57)

“They’re true,” she protested, frustration in her gaze.

He hardened his expression, not wanting to believe something so incredible could have been going on in his hotel without his knowledge. An investigation would soon reveal the accuracy of her statement.

Ten minutes later, they stepped into the penthouse suite, and Chloe made to rush past him.

“Not tonight,” he muttered, capturing her wrist and spinning her around. “I want you.”

Her chin lifted, even as her lower lip trembled. “You haven’t touched me in days. Why now?”

Because not touching her for days had been hell, and he cursed himself for waiting this long to do so. He would have her tonight. Would erase the image of her dancing with his competitor. The image of her in the arms of another man on the beach in Valencia. Dios, he would remind them both who she belonged to.

“Why not now?” He backed her up against the closed door and traced his finger over the emerald nestled just above the tempting swell of her breast.

“You can’t just have me whenever you decide is convenient,” Even though she protested, he could see her hardened nipples through her dress.

“You are my wife,” he mocked, sliding his hand around her back to unfasten her dress. “I can have you whenever I please.”

One slight tug on the slippery fabric had her dress slipping into a green pool of chiffon at her feet.

The air hissed from between his teeth. She wore no bra, just a tiny white pair of panties. The blood in his groin pulsed and desire stabbed through his veins.

He needed her. Now. And he would have her again. Would bury himself deep within the lush body of his wife. He itched for her arms to be around him. To hear her voice crying out his name as he took her.

“Deny me, cariño,” he challenged, leaning down to brush his lips across her in a soft caress. “See if you can.”



Chloe closed her eyes and let out a shuddering breath, wanting to deny him and his arrogance. But she wanted his touch even more so. It had been too long. Everything within her screamed for the return of intimacy between them.

“You know that I can’t,” she whispered, hating that she gave into him despite his horrible behavior.

She wound her arms around his neck and gasped as Andrés’ mouth crushed down to commandeer hers, demanding her complete submission as he deftly removed her panties. She heard the zipper of his pants go down, and a moment later he lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist. He entered her in one smooth thrust.

Her heart lodged in her throat and pleasure exploded through her body. Her need for him expanded, sinking claws into her soul and refusing to let her deny him or this moment.

Andrés took her against the door, using her with a roughness and urgency that had her body burning and her heart pounding with emotion and passion. The deep, powerful connection that intertwined their lives and souls remained. It brought tears to her eyes, made her heart swell with the intensity of it all.

They both found their pleasure at once, their strangled cries absorbed in a lingering kiss that claimed. Her heart swelled with the emotion.

She loved him. Andrés was the only man who could own her heart and her body this way. And suddenly she didn’t want to hide it anymore. To hell with the consequences if he didn’t want to hear it.

With Andrés still buried against her womb and her nails digging into the jacket of his tuxedo, she stopped biting her tongue to hold back the truth.

“I love you, Andrés.”

He went absolutely still, seemed to not even draw a breath. The seconds ticked by, and still the stunned expression remained on his face.

“You don’t need to pretend anymore, cariño. We left the cameras back at the event.”

Tears stung her eyes and her heart twisted with misery. She’d already taken the risk of confessing, and it was too late to go back now. She didn’t want to anyway. She swallowed hard, lifting her head. “That’s just it. I’m done pretending, Andrés. I’m done pretending I don’t care about you.”

His gaze searched hers, seeming to look for a hint that she was anything but serious. Perhaps the glaze of tears convinced him she was. Then he slowly pulled away from her and set her back to the ground with a firm shake of his head.

“You don’t love me, Chloe,” he said roughly, avoiding looking at her now. “You may think you do, but I promise you that you don’t.”

“Don’t you dare tell me what I feel,” she said vehemently. “Perhaps they’re not the words you want to hear, but they’re the truth.”

Andrés spun back to her, the look in his eyes a mixture of wild fear and despondency. “No, Chloe. You know that—”