Emilie Rose - Pregnant on the Upper East Side? / The Billionaire in Penthouse B - Pregnant on the Upper East Side?

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 shirt without hesitation.

Dressed, Amanda looked deceptively lean, but she had curves. Not overblown. But subtle, exquisite. Perfect. He wanted to linger, to savor her breasts above her lavender lace bra, but he’d wanted Amanda for months and hunger snuffed out patience. The bra gave way with a flick of his fingers. He tossed it aside and caught one puckered pink nipple in his mouth, the other in his hand. She tasted good. Smelled good. Her pale skin was warm and silky soft against his lips.

Her fingers speared his hair, flexed into his scalp with an energizing tug. Then she lightly scraped her nails across his shoulders and down his sides. His muscles rippled in the wake of her touch. Her nimble fingers encountered his belt. The leather gave way quickly, followed by the button and zipper of his pants. She had him so aroused he could barely concentrate.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one in a hurry. Her palms flattened against his hips and shoved the fabric of his pants and boxers over his butt and down his thighs. Her caress sent a shock of need through him, making him grit his teeth and struggle to fill his lungs.

He released her long enough to kick off his shoes and the remainder of his clothing, and then he ripped her pants down her long legs. The tattoo he uncovered when he removed her bikini panties caught him by surprise. “A martini?”

She nibbled her bottom lip as if she expected him to be repulsed by the ink. “An appletini. It’s a reminder that life’s supposed to be fun.”

With one finger he outlined the tilted glass just below her left hipbone and then knelt and sipped from the inked rim. He lifted his gaze to hers and rose. “It’s sexy as hell. Tasty, too.”

Her slow smile and the desire in her eyes decimated what was left of his control. “So are you.”

And that’s when he realized he might be in trouble. A little of Amanda Crawford might not be enough.