Pregnant on the Upper East Side? / The Billionaire in Penthouse B: Pregnant on the Upper East Side?. Emilie RoseЧитать онлайн книгу.
The flash of hunger in Amanda’s eyes when she opened her door later that Monday was gratifying. The frown that followed was not. “What are you doing here and how did you get upstairs without Henry buzzing me?”
“I’m here because I heard you’re a Monday night football fan. And Gage Lattimer brought me up. He lives in the penthouse.”
She gave him a patient look. “I know who Gage is. You took a lot for granted assuming I’d be at home and free tonight.”
“I did, but I brought food, beer and fresh Krispy Kremes to make up for it.”
Her gaze dropped to the bags in his hands. Indecision filled her face. She shifted on her bare feet, drawing his attention to her fuchsia-painted toenails. “I don’t think—”
“And another party proposition.”
He had her. Whether it was the donuts or the party that sealed the deal didn’t matter. He saw capitulation soften her grey eyes before she opened the door wider, albeit with obvious reluctance. “Come in. But only if you’re pulling for the Giants.”
He grinned. “I have season tickets. Box seats. Fifty yard line. Be nice and I’ll take you to a game.”
That earned him a smile. What more could a guy want? Amanda was smart, sexy, a networking genius. And she liked football.
He scanned the place for competition as he followed her in, but he didn’t spot any sign of a date. He had taken a risk showing up uninvited tonight, but his previous strategy wasn’t working. He’d needed an adjustment. The exercise mat on the floor clued him in to her evening plans and explained her T-shirt, cotton pants and lack of makeup. Not that she needed to paint a face like hers.
He handed over the beer—an imported brew that Julia claimed was the only brand Amanda would drink. “Shove that in the refrigerator while I unpack the rest. The game doesn’t start for an hour. That gives us time to eat and talk about my brother’s birthday party.”
His brother. The lie didn’t slide as easily off his tongue with Amanda as it would with anyone else. For some reason he wanted to tell her the truth. He wanted to claim Zack as his son. But revealing that secret would cause nothing but trouble and could possibly hurt Zack. Besides, it was nobody’s business.
“The party you wanted to discuss is for him?”
“Zack’s going to turn eighteen in a few months. I’d like to throw a big bash, one he’ll never forget. And I’ll need your help for that.” He shrugged off his coat and tossed it over the back of a bar stool before extracting the Chinese food containers and lining them up on her kitchen counter, but Amanda’s eyes drilled the donut box. He handed it to her.
“Dessert first?” she asked with a wistful look in her eyes.
How could he deny her? If she would look at him like that they’d both be naked and busy. “Go for it.”
She wasted no time ripping open the top, pulling out a glazed donut and biting into it. Her eyes closed and her head tilted back. “Mmm. Oh, my God, these are amazing.”
Her throaty words hit him below the belt with a kick of arousal that nearly took him to his knees.
She’ll look like that in bed.
He couldn’t tear his eyes away as she greedily consumed the rest of her prize. She didn’t lift her lids until she’d finished the last sugary bite. Her tongue swept her lips, but white flakes of glaze clung to the corners. She lifted one finger to her mouth and licked.
He wanted that job.
Screw strategy. He grabbed her hand, carried it to his mouth and lapped her sticky fingertip with his tongue. Her breath hitched. But she didn’t slap him or yank her hand away. Without taking his eyes off hers he moved from the first sweetened digit to the second. His tongue swirled around the tip, and then he pulled her thumb into his mouth and repeated the process. Her pupils dilated and her lips parted.
He had to have her mouth. Now. Releasing her hand, he closed the distance between them.
“You have more sugar here.” He dipped his head to lick it away.
She leaned into him, lifting her chin in silent invitation. She didn’t have to ask twice. He traced the sugary outline of her lips. It wasn’t enough. He covered her mouth with his and delved into her silky warmth. The sweetness of the donut gave way to the unique flavor of the woman in his arms.
He’d been waiting months for this. He caught her waist and pulled her closer, crushing her against his chest and deepening the kiss. Her hands rested briefly on his shoulders, her short nails digging into his muscles and then her arms slid around his neck. She opened her mouth wider for him and her tongue sought his, slick and sweet, warm and wet.
She fit against him even better than he’d expected. Need rumbled up from his gut to his throat. He mapped her spine, her waist, her hips. She was long and lean and hot. His fingers found silky bare skin between the hem of her shirt and the waistband of her pants.
She gasped and lifted her head. But she didn’t pull away. Her passion-darkened eyes sought his. “I—We shouldn’t do this, Alex.”
“It’s long overdue.”
Her gaze dropped back to his mouth. Regret flickered across her face. “I don’t sleep with my clients.”
“Should I fire you?” he teased.
She stiffened and panic widened her eyes. “You’d do that?”
He rubbed her back soothingly, enjoying the smooth warmth of her skin. “No. I honor my promises. And I promise you, Amanda, this isn’t a mistake. We’re going to be magnificent together. In bed and out.”
Indecision flitted across her features. And then she sighed. Her fingers threaded through his hair. She pulled his face back to hers. Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t the aggressive, carnal, no-holds-barred kiss she planted on him.
She devoured him with the same intensity she’d given to the baklava at lunch and the donut tonight, and he was more than willing to be consumed. He cupped her butt and pressed her hips to his. If she hadn’t known where he wanted this to go then his growing erection was a dead giveaway. Damn, she was potent.
By the time she lifted her head and slid her hands to his pectorals, his heart was slamming like a wrecking ball against his chest wall.
She licked her damp lips. “This is crazy. I don’t have time for a man in my life right now. For the next few years, my career is my priority. Alex, if you can’t handle this being temporary then we need to stop. Now.”
Her frankness momentarily took him aback. But her willingness to speak freely was one of the things he liked about Amanda. Was she joking? What man would say no to a brief, passionate affair? Temporary was his specialty.
“I can handle it. Where’s your bedroom?”
For a second she hesitated, looking as if she might change her mind, but then she took his hand and led him across the living room. His gaze dropped to her butt in the thin knit pants. Nice. Firm. Rounded.
Her bedroom was as pink and white and feminine as the rest of the apartment. A thick, white faux-fur rug covered the floor. Filmy white drapes, tied back with brightly colored silky-looking scarves, hung behind a platform bed in a makeshift headboard. He’d never been one for bondage, but he couldn’t help thinking those scarves could come in handy later. He would like to tie her up and pleasure her until she begged him to stop.
Right now he was too impatient to play sexy games.
He yanked her hand, spinning her back into his arms. Their bodies and mouths slammed together, lips parting, tongues clashing. She met him stroke for stroke. Her fingers dug into his waist. Her pelvis nudged his. She wasn’t shy or coy, and her boldness was an incredible turn-on. He whisked her shirt over her head. Before he could savor her pale, smooth skin she attacked his