Claimed: The Pregnant Heiress

“First, because there’s nothing you can do to stop the sale of Worth Industries to Rafe. It’s as good as done. Second, when we made love that night in New York you were unaware of my connection to Rafe Cameron the same as I was unaware of your connection to Worth Industries.” The sound of his pants zipper being lowered grated against the stillness in the room. “And finally, you know damn well that what we’re experiencing tonight is identical to what happened two months ago.”

“Except it isn’t.”

The instant she said the words her breath hitched and he knew she’d give anything to snatch them back. “No, it isn’t,” he agreed. He stripped off the last of his clothing and approached the bed. “This time it’s far more intense.”

She stared at him, riveted. He waited to see whether she’d attempt to evade him, but to his surprise she didn’t. One minute she sat on the edge of the bed and the next she came into his arms. The silk of her dress flowed across his flesh like a teasing caress, while the curves that lay beneath it impacted against him, warm and delicate and deliciously feminine.

“This is a mistake,” she informed him.

He could barely contain his groan. “How can it be when we feel like this whenever we touch?”

He scorched a pathway of fire along her bared shoulder to her neck. Cupping the back of her head, he drew her up for a kiss. A low, delicious moan escaped her and her lips parted, surrendering beneath his. She tasted amazing. How had he survived two whole months without tasting her again? Without having her in his arms. And soon—very, very soon—he’d have her beneath him, be inside of her again. One way or another, before he left Vista del Mar, he’d quench the insatiable thirst she roused in him.

He pulled back and smiled down at her. “You’re overdressed, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She offered a swift, gamine-like grin. “I rather like having you naked and at my mercy.”

“And what do you plan to do with me?”

“This …”

Her hands slid downward, over steely abs, and lower still. She cupped him, her hands unbelievably soft, shaping the length and breadth of him with gentle strokes. He almost lost it. But when he attempted to pull away, she shook her head in mock disapproval.

“Ah, ah, ah. You’re at my mercy, remember?”

Hell. “Is there any point in begging you to be gentle with me?”

“None.” A sultry smile drifted across her mouth and deepened the color of her eyes. “Since you’re one of those types who likes to be in charge all the time, you have to play this my way or we don’t play at all.”

“I’m not sure I like those rules,” he complained.

Just when he thought he couldn’t control himself a moment longer, she slid her hands upward and wrapped them around his neck. “But you’ll play by them, won’t you?”

He shot her a look filled with a combination of threat and warning. “For now.”

She tilted her head to one side in assessment. “Something tells me you’re a dangerous man to cross,” she said slowly.

“That something is called sheer self-preservation. I’d listen to your instincts.”

She simply laughed. “You wouldn’t hurt me.”

“How can you possibly know that? We’ve only been together for a handful of hours.”

Her laughter faded beneath the challenge of his statement and she studied him, pinned him in place with a penetrating stare. In that moment, he could see the father reflected in the daughter, the same fierce determination. “Is that the sort of man you are? Do you deliberately try and hurt people?”

“No. Not even a little. Will I hurt you? I hope like hell I won’t. It depends on where this takes us and what we decide to do about it if we continue down this road.”

A shadow flickered across her face. “I don’t want to worry about what happens next. If we’re going to do this, I can only handle tonight.”

“Then let’s make tonight count,” he suggested, allowing her a glimpse of the intensity of his passion.

She teetered, but she’d already made her decision, had made it shortly after he’d dumped her on to the bed. Whatever they’d ignited in his penthouse apartment in New York had continued to burn, the embers buried but still white-hot and ready to burst into flames with a simple touch.

“Please make love to me,” she whispered into the darkness.

“My pleasure.”

She pulled him in for another kiss, this one slow and languid, expressing a longing that matched his own. “Undress me,” came the hungry command.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

He found the zip beneath her arm and lowered it. The bodice loosened, parted, allowing him access to the soft roundness of her breast. He shaped it in his hand and felt the nipple tighten and swell. She was so elegantly made, delicate and fine-boned. And yet there was a supple strength beneath her softness that spoke of someone well-honed in both body and spirit.

He pulled her up off the bed and into his arms, allowing the gown to drift downward. It snagged at the swell of her hips and she gave a quick shimmy that sent it sliding to the floor. She stood before him clad in garter and stockings, a small pale triangle of silk panties protecting her modesty. He eased her back onto the mattress.

“You’re beautiful, Emma.”

The words seemed so inadequate. Shallow. And despite what Rafe claimed, Chase didn’t find anything shallow about Emma. Granted, he didn’t know her well. Yet. But her intelligence glittered in her eyes, and enthusiasm exuded from her, a quiet, wholehearted joie de vivre filling her up and overflowing onto everyone around her.

With swift, economical movements he loosened the straps of her heels and toss ed them aside. He took more time removing her garters and stockings, tripping his fingers along the outer edge of her shapely legs and then up again along the sensitive inner length. She shivered when he reached her thighs. Moaned as he approached the apex. Released a soft cry of need the instant he cupped the very heart of her through her silk panties.

Just that one touch left her teetering on the brink, as close to going over as he was. At the last possible moment he remembered to grab a condom from the nightstand table. Then he swept her panties from her hips and settled down on top of her. Her lips were swollen from his kisses and a flush ran feverishly high along the curve of her cheekbones. Passion turned her eyes dark with need, a ripe, blistering ardor that more than matched his own.

“Why did you leave me last November when we have this between us? When it only takes a single touch for us both to go up in flames?” he demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were or how to find you again?”

“I was afraid.”

“Afraid of me?”

She shook her head, her hair forming a pale, tangled halo of white gold. “Not of you. Never of you. I was afraid of this. Of wanting someone like you so much.”

“Afraid of how you respond when we come together?”

In one swift move he mated their bodies, one to the other. The breath sobbed from her lungs. “Yes. Oh, please don’t stop. I’ve been waiting so long to feel like this again.”

“Look at me, Emma. I want you to know who you’re with.”

Anger burned alongside her desperation. “I know who I’m with, Chase. How could I possibly forget how it was between us?”

The admission threw him off stride, but only for a moment. “It’ll be even better this time,” he promised.

Because this time he knew what she wanted. What made her sing. What made her explode. What made her soar within his arms. And he’d do everything within his power to give her all that and more.

As much as he wanted to take her fast and hard, he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. He needed that slow build, to experience that climb every inch of the way. To absorb her breathless moans with his every kiss and have that soft, soft flesh brushing against his. To savor the sweet scent of desire gathering in the air and taste it on her mouth and skin.

He sampled first her lips, then her breasts. And he moved with her, a slow, gliding waltz. He caught her hands in his and locked them over her head, their fingers entwined. Her legs slid along his, her toes pressing into his calves in joyous welcome, then wrapping around his hips, anchoring him tight. The tempo increased, moving from waltz to tango.

Sighs turned to murmurs of demand. Control escaped his grasp. How was that possible? He never lost control with women. Always maintained a safe distance even in the most intimate of situations. Never allowed anyone to glimpse his raw emotions in case they were used against him. But with Emma … The dance grew ever faster and he surrendered to the drive, to the magical music the two of them made whenever they came together. She arched beneath him, bowing upward as her climax slammed through her. He couldn’t help himself. He followed her up and over, leaping with her into that glittering place of rapture met and fantasy realized.