That's My Baby!

She closed her eyes in ecstasy. “Uh-huh.”

“And you like this?” he asked in a husky voice as he swept his beard back and forth across her tingling nipples.

She struggled for breath. “Uh-huh.”

His low chuckle was laced with excitement. “You’re kinky, woman.”

“And you love it.”

His voice roughened. “Damned if I don’t.” He moistened each nipple with his tongue and then brushed them dry with his beard. He repeated the process, all the while coaxing her higher with the persistent rhythm of his fingers.

The effect was incredible. She climaxed with a wild cry, arching away from the mattress as he buried his bearded face between her breasts. And he’d only begun. As she lay helplessly gasping from his first assault, he kissed a path down her quivering body until he’d nestled himself between her thighs.

“Oh, Nat.” This was no dream. In a million nights of fantasizing she couldn’t have imagined the delicious sensation of his mustache right there, while his beard feathered her inner thighs, and his tongue…there were no words for it, only sounds. And she filled the room with her moans of delight.

He gifted her with another shattering climax before making his way back to her mouth, revisiting his sites of conquest along the way. By the time he kissed her again, she would have done anything for him, if only she had a smidgen of strength left with which to do it.

“And I thought this beard was only good for keeping my face warm in a cold wind,” he whispered.

She could barely move, let alone talk. But she wanted him to feel this euphoria, too. It was only fair. She liked her dry lips. “What about…you?”

He lifted his head and gazed down at her, his eyes alight. “I’m getting to that.” He kissed the tip of her nose and his voice was gruff with emotion. “But you know how guys are when they’ve been frustrated for this long. It’ll be fast and furious the first time. You needed a head start.”

“Mmm.” She figured she’d already finished the race. Twice.

“Don’t go away.” He leaned over and opened the bedside-table drawer.

She turned her head and watched him put on the condom. Observing him rolling the latex over his stiff penis turned out to be an arousing activity. After the way he’d thoroughly loved her, she was amazed she was still capable of being aroused.

He hadn’t worn a condom any of the other times they’d made love, and she wondered if she’d feel the difference. They’d both trusted in her birth control pills, which had ultimately failed them. But she couldn’t be sorry about getting pregnant. Even if Elizabeth ended up tearing them apart, she couldn’t be sorry.

He slid back into bed beside her and turned on his side. His gaze locked with hers. She grew restless, wanting him again, but the ache was deeper this time. She no longer had that frantic craving for release. This time she wanted connection.

Still looking into her eyes, he took her chin in his hand. Then slowly he stroked down the curve of her throat, and his gaze followed the path of his hand as it swept past her collarbone and over the slope of her breast. His touch seemed to define the shape of her body as his palm glided past her hip and down her thigh. His penis twitched impatiently, yet he took his time, propping himself up on one arm so he could reach all the way to her ankles.

She’d never seen such intensity in his eyes. Under his scrutiny, she became self-conscious. She hadn’t lost every ounce she’d gained with Elizabeth, and most days the few extra pounds felt good, womanly. Now she wasn’t so sure. “I…guess I’m not quite the same as I—”

His voice trembled slightly. “You’re perfect.” He met her gaze and there was a sheen of moisture in his eyes. “And after how I treated you seventeen months ago, and even just now, accusing you of trying to trap me into marriage, you should have forbidden me ever to touch you again.”

Her throat closed. He was so hard on himself, more judgmental than she could ever be. “Nat, don’t—”

“But you let me touch you, let me love you, because you have a good and generous heart.” He moved over her, his gaze holding hers. “And for that, I’m eternally grateful.”

“I could never turn you away,” she whispered.

“You should.” He eased the tip of his penis inside her and closed his eyes. “God knows you should.”

“I can’t.” She cupped his buttocks in her hands. “I want this as much as you.”

He opened his eyes. “Then, besides being too generous, you’re a fool, a bigger fool than I am. And I’m going to take advantage of that, Jess. One more time.” He thrust forward and closed his eyes with a groan. “So sweet. Oh, Jess.”

She dug her fingers into his buttocks and held him tight inside her. Yes, the condom made a difference, separating them in a way that seemed unfair. She wanted him flesh to flesh, as close as they’d been before. But she couldn’t have that, and what she could have was very good indeed. He filled the emptiness that had tortured her ever since he left.

He opened his eyes, and they were blazing with passion. His voice was thick with restrained desire. “When I’m inside you like this, I own the world.”

She stroked her hands up the knotted muscles of his back and slipped them around to cradle his beloved, bearded face. “So do I.” Her smile quivered as she gazed up at him. “I thought this was going to be fast and furious.”

“It will be, the minute I move. I just want to savor this part, the first time I push deep, and I’m leaning over you like this, looking into your eyes, watching them get all dark and soft, seeing your cheeks flush. And your freckles stand out.”

“They do?”

“Yeah, and I’ve missed that so much. I’ve missed every crazy thing about you, Jess. Your herbal teas, your bossiness—”

“I’m not bossy.”

He chuckled. “Yes, you are.”

“I’ve missed your laugh.” She felt his penis stir within her and knew he’d begin to move soon.

“I’ve missed your happy little moans.” He eased down onto his elbows, so that his chest brushed her nipples. “Lace your fingers through mine,” he murmured. “Like we used to do.”

She knew exactly what he meant. It had been their favorite way of making love. She slipped her hands under his so they were palm to palm, fingers intertwined.

Looking deep into her eyes, he gripped her hands tightly in his. “I’ve missed the way your mouth opens, just a little, when I start stroking.” He eased back and came forward again. “Like you want to be open…everywhere.” He picked up the rhythm.

“I missed the look in your eyes when you’re close to coming,” she whispered breathlessly. “You look like a fierce warrior.”

He pumped more vigorously, and his voice was hoarse. “Then I must look pretty fierce right now.”

“Yes. Magnificent.” The grip of his hands was almost painful, but she didn’t care. His frantic desire drove her straight to the edge of the precipice with him.

“Oh, Jess.” He gasped for breath as he plunged into her again and again. “Can you?”

“I’m there, Nat. Love me. Love me hard.”

He groaned. “Oh, Jess.”

They came apart together, clutching each other wildly as their control shattered.

As they lay panting and spent, she caressed his sweat-soaked back. “Welcome home,” she murmured.

ALL HIS LIFE people had accused Steven Pruitt of being an egghead. By now he was damn proud of the label. In fact, he figured that his eggheadedness was the key to making him enormously rich. Someday he’d be the one staying at the Waldorf. Right under Russell P. Franklin’s nose.

In the meantime, he had to be patient. When he thought of the money he would wring out of Russell P. when this thing came down, he could be patient. Trailing Jessica wasn’t so different from some of the investigative-reporting assignments he’d had. He’d never needed much sleep, and catnapping on a bench where he could keep tabs on the entrance to the hotel was uncomfortable but bearable.

Some people might think six months of trailing someone in order to kidnap them was too long. But they didn’t understand the thrill of the chase. He hadn’t understood it, either, until he’d begun following Jessica. Once he’d found out what a rush this cat-and-mouse game could give him, he’d decided to enjoy it for as long as his money lasted. He’d probably never get to feel this much like James Bond again in his life.

He ought to be good for another month or two. What a feeling of power he felt whenever he made her run. By now he knew her well, probably better than the guy she was shacked up with in the Waldorf.