Little Secrets: His Pregnant Secretary. Joanne Rock
his brain short-circuited and finally shut the hell up.
Letting go of her dress, he splayed his fingers on the curve of her ass, drawing her hips fully to his. The soft moan in her throat sounded like approval, but he was so hungry for her he didn’t trust what he heard.
“Delia.” He broke the kiss and angled back to see her better, trying to blink through the fog of desire. “I want you. Here. Now.”
“Yes. Yes.” She said it over and over, a whispered chant as if to hurry him along, her hands restlessly trolling his chest, slipping beneath his shirt. “Definitely now. If you lock the doors,” she suggested right before she lowered a kiss to his shoulder, “I can get the blinds.”
“I’m not letting you go for even a second.” He walked her backward toward the door, kissing her most of the way until he needed to focus on the bolt. Even then, he kept one palm on her lower back, at the base of her dress’s zipper.
“And the blinds?” she reminded him, her hair starting to fall from the topknot she was wearing. “The switch on your desk is closest.”
“Right. Of course. Lady, you do mess with my brain.” His brain—and other parts of him.
Jager moved with her in that direction, but he used his free hand to sift through her silky hair, pulling out pins and one jeweled comb, letting them fall to the dark bamboo floor. He’d been wanting to do this forever, he realized. Ever since he’d held her that first day when she wore that wet wedding gown and cried her eyes out against his bare chest.
She reached to find the switch, lowering the blinds electronically, shutting the room off from the well-lit grounds. Now just a few low lamps illuminated his office, casting appealing shadows on her creamy pale skin. With her tousled hair falling over one eye and the shadows slanting over her, she looked decidedly wanton. Altogether appealing.
He wanted her so much his teeth ached. He tugged the zipper down on her dress, peeling the cotton knit away from her body, sliding it right off her shoulders to pool at narrow hips. One quick shimmy and she kicked free of the dress; now she was clad only in ice-blue satin panties and a matching strapless bra. She was even more beautiful than he’d imagined, and he’d had some dreams where he’d thoroughly fantasized about her over the past two years.
Before he could contemplate how best to savor her, she slid a finger between her breasts and loosened the tiny clasp of her bra, baring herself. He froze for an instant to take in the sight of her—then his body unleashed into motion. His arms were already moving as he hauled off his shirt so he could feel her against him.
Kissing her, he cupped her breasts in his hands, teased one taut peak and then the other. Licking, nipping, drawing her deep into his mouth. He backed her into the desk and then lifted her, settling her there. She wrapped her legs around his waist, hooking her ankles and keeping him close.
“Do you have...protection?” she asked, her breath a warm huff of air against his shoulder.
Hell, yes. He might not have been with anyone in months, but he always kept a supply of condoms here. Pulling away, he opened the middle desk drawer. Thumbed past the last file. Emerged with a packet.
Their eyes met over the condom before she plucked it from his fingers and kissed him. No hesitation. No reservations.
He tunneled his hands through her hair, tilting her head back to taste his way along her jaw and behind one ear. She shivered sweetly against him, deliciously responsive. She smelled sweet there, like vanilla. He lingered, inhaling her, relishing the way her breath caught.
Too soon, her touch along his belt, the backs of her knuckles grazing his erection through his fly, called his attention from her delicate neck. Later, he would return to her neck, he promised himself. He wanted to linger over every part of her, but right now, the need was too fierce to ignore. While he unfastened the belt and carefully freed himself from the zipper, Delia was already tearing open the condom packet, her fingers unsteady as she rolled it into place. Her palm stroking over him there sent a fire roaring inside. He touched her through the blue satin panties she still wore, and he found the hidden dampness just inside and teased a throaty moan from her, stilling her questing hands long enough to let him catch his breath.
He wanted her ready for him. Really ready. Sinking a finger inside her, he felt the deep shudders of her release and kissed her moans quiet as she rode out the storm of sensation.
Damn, but she was beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed and eyes dazed, her hair a golden banner in the low lamplight.
When she was still again, he eased inside her slowly, gripping her thighs with his hands to guide himself home. She wound her arms around him again, nipping his lower lip before drawing it between hers. She arched against him, her breasts flattening to his chest. He knew he wouldn’t last long this time. The day had stolen his restraint long before he started peeling her clothes off.
So he let himself just feel the slick heat of her body around his, her warm vanilla scent making his mouth water for a fuller taste. He cupped one breast and feasted on the taut nipple, finding a rhythm that pleased them both and riding it to...
Heaven.
His release crashed through him, trampling his body like a rogue wave until he could only hold on to Delia. He buried his face in her hair, the shudders moving up his back again and again. Her nails bit pleasantly into his shoulders and he welcomed the sweet hurt to bring him back to earth. Back to reality.
A reality that felt...off, somehow.
Straightening with Delia still in his arms, his body tensed.
“What is it?” The sultry note in her voice told him she hadn’t realized what happened yet.
His satiated body was only beginning to get the message too, but his brain had already figured out what was wrong.
“It broke.”
Delia’s brain didn’t compute.
Her limbs still tingled pleasantly from the first orgasm a man had ever given her. Her whole body hummed with sensual fulfillment. And yet...panic was just starting to flood through her nervous system, rattling her from the inside out.
“What do you mean, it broke?” She knew what he meant, of course. But she didn’t understand how it had happened. How she could have let herself be so carried away by the man and the moment. Even if the man in question was Jager McNeill.
“I don’t suppose you’re on the pill?” he asked, instead of answering her question, as he gently extricated himself from her arms and legs.
“No.” She shook her head while reality slowly chilled the residual heat right out of her veins.
“You should stand up,” he urged her, lifting her off the desk and settling her on her feet. “Do you mind if I carry you into the shower?”
His matter-of-fact response to a potential grenade in both their lives only rattled her further, making the possible consequences feel all the more real. And frightening.
“I’ll walk there,” she assured him, wondering what the rest of his staff—her coworkers, for crying out loud—were going to think of her walk of shame through his house into the nearest bathroom.
She would headline local gossip for weeks. Or, quite possibly, nine months.
Oh, God. What had she done?
“We could try emergency contraception,” Jager suggested carefully. “If you’re amenable to taking the medication.”
Would that work? She’d never had a need to investigate the option. “I can call my doctor.”
Jager was putting a blanket around her. The throw from the back of the couch, she realized. Gratefully, she sank into the gray cashmere, veiling her tender body from the cool calculation she now saw in her lover’s eyes.