Baby for the Billionaire - By Maxine Sullivan Page 0,67

closing the door to Isabella’s room. No memory of striding toward Annalise. No memory of backing her against the wall. But from the instant his mouth found hers, it was like a recorder flicked on, burning every tantalizing moment into the pathways of his brain.

He was overwhelmed by the distinctive fragrance of her skin and driven insane by the low, soft moan that reverberated in her throat. The heat of her hands and lips and flesh burned like wildfire, sweeping straight through to the frozen core of him and melting away walls of ice that he’d believed too tall and thick to ever be breached.

“I’ve tried, Annalise,” he said between quick, biting kisses. “I’ve tried to keep my hands off you. How many times have I promised I would? And yet …”

A husky laugh exploded from her, and she leaned her head back against the wall, exposing her throat. “Somehow it doesn’t quite work out that way.”

“You don’t understand. I always keep my word. Always. It’s a point of honor with me. But with you—” Frustration tore through him. “It’s like my body and brain are out of sync, or speaking different languages.”

“No communication?”

“None.” His hand drifted along the golden length of her neck. Then the urge to taste her consumed him and his mouth followed the same pathway his hand had taken. “Well, except for one single urge. On that point, all of the various parts of me are in total agreement.”

A line from the movie they’d just watched played through his head: Resistance is futile. It described his predicament precisely. Temptation beckoned again and he fought it for all of ten seconds before he tumbled. Unable to help himself, he cupped her breast and traced the rigid peak through the thin cotton of her tank top. The breath exploded from her lungs and her sooty lashes fluttered toward her cheeks in clear surrender.

He used his knee to part her legs and settled into the cradle of her hips, sliding against a body that combined a lean, tensile strength with a sensual softness. He wanted her in his bed, wanted those endless legs wrapped around him. Wanted to sink into her warmth until the last vestige of ice had been driven from his body.

Everything about her propelled him toward a place he’d never been before, never even knew existed. A gentle place. A place of solace. A place of beautiful urgency and endless possibilities. A place where he could safely lose himself in arms that would never let him go, while he basked in the warmth and light of her embrace.

He reached beneath her tank top and found a hint of what that sweet place would hold, and he lingered there while the heat built. Her breasts slipped into his hands, filling them with their silken weight. Her nipples were two hot buds of desire against his palms. He rocked his hips into place between her legs, setting a slow, torturous rhythm that ripped a moan from her throat.

“Sleep with me tonight,” he urged.

He watched the struggle play out across her face, a fierce battle waged between common sense and desire. He was intimately familiar with that particular battle. For a brief instant he thought she’d capitulate. But something held her back, something that caused a glimmer of panic to break across the planes of her face and an intense vulnerability to tarnish her eyes. It would seem he wasn’t the only one with painful memories.

“I can’t. We,” she corrected, “we can’t. Isabella has to come first. And if we do this, we’ll be torn between responsibility and desire.”

“I’ll always put Isabella first.”

“Then you won’t fight me about this. Because having sex with you isn’t putting Isabella first.”

She didn’t give him room to argue. Besides, she was right. They couldn’t afford to be distracted right now. He couldn’t afford it. He still needed her help. Somehow, someway, he had to find a way to convince Annalise to marry him. And that pathway led through her attachment to Isabella, not through his bedroom door.

As much as he wanted this woman, he couldn’t have her. He reluctantly slid his hands from beneath her top and forced himself to abandon the warmth and softness he’d found for far too brief a time. He took a deliberate step backward. And then another. The want remained in her eyes, along with a hopeless resignation. If she’d uttered a single sound of regret, he’d have swept her into his arms and taken her then and