Pregnant on the Upper East Side? / The Billionaire in Penthouse B: Pregnant on the Upper East Side?. Emilie RoseЧитать онлайн книгу.
floor. He lifted his head and inhaled a sobering breath a second before the doors glided open. The interruption was a good thing, since he wasn’t into public displays of affection.
How did she do that to him? Make him forget where he was and that the elevator probably had security cameras? In his business, image was everything. He couldn’t afford to be caught with his pants down—literally or metaphorically. But then again, no one at 721 Park cared what he did. He wasn’t a resident. And in Greenwich he kept a low profile. The press ignored him to focus on the celebrities who made their home within the town’s borders.
He released Amanda, grabbed the handle of her suitcase and followed her out. He had to admit he found the slightly dazed look in her grey eyes gratifying. Nice to know he wasn’t the only one in a hormonal fog.
But like the weather, this fog would eventually lift.
Why had she let Alex talk her into this? Amanda asked herself as she unlocked her apartment door.
Because he gave you that look—the one that deepsixes your ability to think. A look he’s probably been perfecting since he was younger than Zack.
And he bribed you with a muffin.
God, you’re easy.
After sixty almost uninterrupted hours of Alex’s company, she needed to get away from the man. Watching him interact with Zack, she’d seen a side of him this weekend that she could have lived without—a caring, gentle, understanding side that had gone a long way toward eroding Alex’s player image. And she couldn’t afford to see him as anything less than a player. Alex was all about temporary and so was she. She liked it that way.
She shouldered open her door and marched straight into her kitchen, where she deposited her tote, the coffee and the bakery bag on the table. Alex followed.
“Have a seat. I’ll get your file. It’s in my office.”
He caught her elbow as she passed. “Eat first. I know you like your muffins hot and fresh from the oven.”
“That’s because the chocolate chips will still be gooey and delicious.” Thinking about it made her mouth water. She shrugged out of her coat. He took it from her and laid hers and his over the back of the extra chair.
Get it over with. Feed him. Update him. Get rid of him.
While she grabbed plates from the cabinet he tore open the bag. The scent of chocolate and roasted walnuts filled the room. Her stomach growled as she climbed onto one of the high stools. Alex did the same beside her. Their knees bumped beneath the table, sending a spray of sparks northward.
Good grief. She’d exhausted a year’s quota of orgasms this weekend. How could she still get all shivery and hot from just bumping knees with the man?
Doing her best to ignore him in his charcoal cashmere V-neck sweater and snug black jeans, she peeled away the muffin’s paper. Melted chocolate quickly coated her fingers. If she were alone she’d lick her fingers. But with Alex here she had to act like less of a glutton.
She rose to find some napkins, but Alex caught her wrist, pulling her between his splayed knees. His desirefilled gaze locked with hers as he lifted her hand to his mouth and laved her fingertip with a slick swipe. She shivered with want. He moved on to the next messy fingertip and the next.
Her eyelids grew heavy and drifted closed. Not good. Lack of sight only accentuated her other senses. She lost herself in his scent, the brackets of his strong thighs around her hips, the hot caress of his tongue swirling around each fingertip and the feel of his hand on the thin skin of her wrist. He couldn’t possibly miss her racing pulse beneath his thumb.
She forced her eyes open. He finished the left hand and moved to her right. Desire flushed his cheekbones with dark color, making her feel hotter and gooier than the muffin’s melted chips.
But she didn’t protest because she couldn’t find her voice. He dipped his finger into a glistening melted chocolate spot in his muffin and then painted her lips with a slow sweep. The intense concentration of his dark eyes on her mouth made breathing nearly impossible. He bent his head and licked and nibbled off the chocolate.
She nearly collapsed into a puddle at his feet.
Stop him. Stop this. Wanting him this much can’t be good.
The warm, wet, slow pass of his tongue dragged a moan from her. He took advantage of her parted lips to deepen the kiss. She savored the delicious combination of chocolate and Alex. But then he drew back. Relieved to escape the onslaught—and yes, a little disappointed, too—she stared at him.
A slow smile worked its way across his lips. He pinched off a morsel of muffin and brought it to her lips. “Open.”
She dumbly complied. The rich, chocolaty taste filled her mouth. Her taste buds did their usual dance. But she would rather be tasting the man tormenting her. She swallowed. As if he’d read her mind, his mouth covered hers again. He devoured her mouth with sips, nips and swirls. Her thoughts whirled like fruit in a blender. He had her off balance mentally and physically.
A tug at her waist sobered her. She jerked back. “What are you doing?”
“Wait and see.” He pulled again at the tie of her wraparound dress. Cool air swept her torso as he brushed the fabric aside.
Her still-sticky fingers kept her from grabbing her dress as it slid off her shoulders and caught at her elbows. She’d never get chocolate stains out. “We’re supposed to be going over your part—”
He smeared a streak of chocolate just above the lace of her bra, dipping into her cleavage.
“Hey!” And then he bent to lap it up. Her protest turned into a groan. “Working, Alex. We’re supposed to be working.”
But the heat inside her intensified, liquefying her knees. Her legs weakened. She grasped the table’s edge to keep herself upright. He painted another melted chocolate chip stripe on her other breast, then laved her clean. His fingers hooked her bra straps and lowered them to her upper arms, baring her nipples, which he circled with more chocolate paint. The heat of his moist mouth enclosed her, the suction tugging at the desire deep in her belly and pulling forth a response she thought he’d exhausted.
She bit her lip on a whimper of want. She would never be able to eat her favorite food again without remembering this.
“Touch me,” he ordered against her breast.
“Hands. Chocolate. Cashmere.” She couldn’t retrieve more from the mush he’d made of her brain.
Alex stood, ripped his sweater and the T-shirt he’d worn beneath it over his head and tossed them.
Food sex. A new one for her. New and exciting. But then sex with Alex had been an adventure each time. One she’d have to end. Soon.
She crumbled off a corner of the moist cake and swiped her finger through a melted morsel. Debating her options, she decided to plant a fingerprint on each flat nipple. Holding his gaze, she bent to lick him clean.
His pupils expanded and his hands fastened on her waist, tightening and releasing as she worked zealously to cleanse his skin. He groaned. “Watching you eat your muffins has been driving me crazy for months.”
Stunned, she straightened. “Watching me eat turns you on?”
“It’s the sensual way you savor each bite. I knew you’d wear the same expression when I was inside you.”
Heat rushed through her, and her pulse quickened to double time. “I do?”
“Yes. Drop the dress.” His low voice rumbled over her skin like the roar of an approaching motorcycle.
She had to be out of her mind to comply. They were here to work. But work would have to wait. She dropped her arms by her side and let the dress go. The soft fabric drifted down, caressing her calves as it passed to puddle