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

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

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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 around her ankle boots.

      Alex unfastened her bra and sent it on the same path, leaving her in nothing but her lavender lace thong and shoes. He devoured her with his gaze, lingering over her breasts, slowly sweeping her belly, her hips and her thighs before taking an equally meandering return trip.

      His hands bracketed her waist and stroked a swath of heat, first upward to tease the undersides of her breasts and then downward, dragging the thong to her knees as he passed. He bent to press an openmouthed kiss over the tattoo on her left hip, stealing her breath, and then he lifted her onto the stool she’d abandoned and whisked her lingerie over her ankles. He splayed his hands on her knees, separated them and stepped between her thighs. His arms banded around her, bringing them chest to scorching chest as his mouth branded hers in a hot, wet, carnal kiss. His tongue plunged deep.

      His hands swept her back, her waist and finally her breasts. He stroked and tweaked her nipples until hunger consumed her and she squirmed with need. His hands traveled lower, finding her wetness and igniting a fire no amount of moisture could put out. Alex had great hands, she’d grant him that. And a great mouth. And a great—

      The nip of his teeth on her neck cut off her thoughts. She arched into his touch, relishing each stroke of his fingers until she teetered on the edge of release and she would need more than just his hand.

      He had on too many clothes. The supple skin of his back goose-bumped beneath the light rake of her nails. His buttocks clenched under her caress. She dragged her fingers around the inside of his belt, opened the buckle and lowered his zipper. Impatient to pleasure him as he was her, she shoved his pants and briefs over his hips and curled her fingers around his erection. His hot, silky flesh thickened and pulsed with the stroke of her hand.

      Alex broke the kiss on a hissed inhalation and withdrew a condom from his pocket before letting his pants fall to the floor.

      Striving for mental distance, she nodded to the packet in his hand. “You keep those on you at all times, huh?”

      “When I’m with you, yes. Otherwise, no. I’m too old to think like a kid who’s always prepared on the off chance he might get lucky.”

      Not what she wanted to hear. That made him sound as if he weren’t a player. She reminded herself they had only thirteen days left. Less than two weeks to gorge herself on Alex’s talent in bed, the shower, the hot tub, or in the kitchen, as the case may be tonight. And then she would quit him cold turkey. Part of her wanted to store up as much sexual satisfaction as she could until then. Another part warned her to pull back now before she became as addicted to this man as she was to Park Café’s chocolate muffins.

      Her needy, demanding side won the argument. She curled her fingers around his nape, threaded them through his hair and pulled him forward for another kiss. Alex didn’t hesitate to step up to the plate. You had to like a man who was confident enough not to be threatened when a woman turned aggressive.

      He let her set the tone for the kiss. Or maybe he was just as desperate and edgy and needy as she was. Their teeth clashed. Their noses bumped. But his soft lips, slick tongue and dexterous hands kept her fire stoked.

      One

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