Kat Cantrell - Pregnant By Morning

“Bed, shower or asleep? I must know in order to tell you what I plan to do. Or perhaps you’d prefer I show you?”

Yes, yes she would. Except she couldn’t speak, as he slid an arm around her waist, drawing her taut against his warm body. She clutched his shoulders and they were amazing and strong underneath his jacket. “There’s no shower on this balcony.”

“So true,” he murmured. “The alarm’s going off.”

It wasn’t. She didn’t care.

He covered her mouth with his and turned her into liquid mercury for the second time. The man was a master, hot and forceful, and her lips fell open under the divine pressure. He plunged in, tongue skimming against hers, deliciously rough and tasting of champagne.

She moaned and changed the angle, inviting him deeper, urging him forward with small tugs of her hands against his shoulders. More, she needed more, needed to quench the thirst raging in her veins with this extremely arousing man.

Judging by the full-fledged blaze between them, he felt the same. About her, not Eva. How great was that, to be with a man who hadn’t already made a bunch of snap judgments?

“Touch me,” she commanded hoarsely, her damaged voice even more raw with desire.

Almost hesitantly, he palmed her breast through the thick bodice of the dress, and she nearly growled in frustration. Forget that. She reached down and gathered up the hem of the ridiculously full skirt and tucked it under the sash at her waist. She guided his hand through the opening, straight to her bottom.

It was his turn to groan as he flattened his palm against her bare cheek. “A thong? That is unbelievably sexy.”

“Not nearly as sexy as your hand on it while I’m still fully dressed.” He explored the uncovered flesh and traced the strings into her crevice and back out again. Her knees almost buckled. “Don’t stop. Keep going.”

He took her mouth again, ravenous and greedy, as his fingers nudged underneath the silk. Just far enough to steal her breath for a long second. Blatantly, she circled her pelvis, silently begging him to go deeper.

Whether she’d planned to go this far or not, her body wasn’t holding back. She was about to come apart under his capable hands.

Instead, he withdrew entirely and blew out a heavy breath, smoothing her skirts down with a confusing finality. “Angie, I have to confess something.”

“You’re married.” Disappointment swamped her so quick and so fast she nearly convulsed. The ache, which had moments ago been a vortex of desire, cooled. She should have known.

“No.” He shook his head in vehement denial. “I’m completely unattached. It’s just...I don’t...”

“You’re not attracted to me.” But his impressive length had ground hard against her, evident even through the monstrosity of fabric at her waist.

He swallowed hard. “How could you possibly think that? I’ve never been so turned on in my life. There’s this one small problem. I’ve never seduced a woman on a balcony, so I’m ah...unprepared.”

Oh. “You don’t have a condom.”

The giggle slipped out before she could stop it. He was just so flustered and so cute, running a hand over his dark blond hair with evident frustration. It caught her quite unexpectedly in a soft, warm place inside. Talk about being unprepared.

Was he ever going to stop being so unexpected and amazing? God, she hoped not.

Three

“I’m glad you find my lack of preparation amusing.” Matthew certainly didn’t. He’d never been so mad at himself and so happy she wasn’t angry, all at the same time.

And he had never been in quite so much physical pain. Yes, the women in his social circle were sophisticated and demure, rightly so, but lukewarm in their approach to everything.

He never realized how truly hot it could be with someone so uninhibited.

“It’s not funny. Trust me, it’s not.” She pulled him down by the lapels and kissed him sweetly. “That’s for not having a condom.”

“What?”

She shrugged with a delicate one-shoulder move. “I’ve been around my share of dogs. It’s nice to find someone who isn’t always thinking with what’s in his pants. Besides, this isn’t the dark ages. You can easily be mad at me for not having one.”

“I take it that means you don’t.”

She shook her head. “And I can’t do birth control. Everything gives me headaches. But we’re in luck because it’s Carnevale. I bet we can score a boxful of very festive condoms from Vincenzo’s room.”

So now Matt had been reduced to stealing condoms. Brilliant. Condoms were not first and foremost on his mind, yet he’d gladly jumped into her wicked game without hesitation.

What was he doing on this balcony?

“Maybe it’s a sign.”

“A sign? Like what, we’re not supposed to hook up tonight?”

Hook up. Matthew Wheeler did not hook up. He’d been happily married to the perfect woman and would still be if an aneurism hadn’t killed her. Commitment made him tick.

Angie might discount the idea of signs, but he couldn’t. This wasn’t meant to happen and probably for a very good reason. Did he really want a one-night stand with some woman he’d met at a party? It just wasn’t his style.

The empty palazzo next door called his name, offering a place to retreat and lick his wounds. Where he would go to bed alone, dream about Amber and wake in a cold sweat. If he slept. Sometimes he lay awake, racked with remorse over leaving his family in the lurch.

That was his real life. This interlude with a winged woman at a masked ball was nothing but a fantasy born of desperation and loneliness. It wasn’t fair to use Angie to appease either.

But God Almighty, it was difficult to walk away from her. When she’d been in his arms, pliant and sizzling, he heard the distinct sound of his soul waking up.

Angie’s kiss-stung lips and luminous brown eyes nearly did him in. She’d asked him to be her fake boyfriend at this party, a role he’d stepped into with ease and enthusiasm, but without really considering what enormous pain must have driven her to ask.

He couldn’t abandon her.

Matthew might not hook up, but neither did he have to listen to Matt, who despite Angie’s belief, was very much thinking with the bulge in his pants. He needed to cool down and evaluate his goal here before he got carried away by the fantasy.

So he’d split the difference.

“Let’s dance.”

Wary surprise wrinkled her mouth. “At the party?”

“Sure. Why not? You haven’t had a chance to throw your new boyfriend in lover boy’s face yet.” Neither of them had done much spelling-it-out and some clarity might be in order. “And I’d like to take a step back. Make sure we’re both headed in the same direction.”

“I hear you. The balcony is cold and I do like to dance,” she mused. “How about this? I’ll dart into Vincenzo’s room and stuff my clutch with as many condoms as it’ll hold. We’ll dance. If you move to music like you do on a speed date, we’ll be headed in the same direction all right—back upstairs and into my bed.”

His pants grew tighter. Exactly how many times did she envision having sex? He shook his head to clear the erotic images she’d sprung loose in his brain. It didn’t work.

“I’ll consider myself warned.”

She smiled and it was a whole lot wicked.

Matthew took her hand and led her toward what promised to be a provocative round of dancing. At least in a room full of people, the temptation to dive under Angie’s skirt would be lessened.

If he did that again, he’d like to be much more clearheaded about it.

Unbelievably, more people had gathered in the rooms downstairs, filling the dance floor to overflowing. Couples swayed and dipped to the slow song. Matthew drew Angie into the sea of dancers, carefully navigating to protect her wings. He hadn’t danced in a long time but the ballroom classes he’d let Amber drag him to came back in a rush.