Baby for the Billionaire - By Maxine Sullivan Page 0,84
What if I do something wrong?”
He cleared his throat. “Not a chance.”
“No? Why don’t we test your theory.”
She caught the edges of his bow tie and tugged. The scrap of silk slid away and drifted toward the floor, vanishing into the shadows. One by one she removed the studs from his shirt, placing each in turn on the windowsill in a neat line. His shirt parted. Did she have any clue what her slow, deliberate movements were doing to him? It took every ounce of willpower to allow her to take the lead, to follow instead of dictate.
Her hand slid into his and she turned it in order to have access to his cufflinks. First one and then the other joined his shirt studs on the windowsill. He wanted her hands on his skin, to feel them move on him. Warm him. Take him. Instead, she eased his shirt from his shoulders, not once actually touching him.
His breathing grew harsh. “Anna—”
“Shh. It’ll be all right.”
With a soft rustle of silk, she stood in front of him and gently lifted the circlet and veil from her head. She placed it on the window seat beside him. The tulle and lace flowed over the edge like a waterfall, a silent statement in the moonlit darkness. Never once taking her eyes from his, she lowered the side zip of the gown.
Inch by glorious inch, the beaded silk fell away, revealing skin beautifully gilded by their weeks at the beach. The gown slipped to the floor in a soft cloud of surrender. She stepped free of it, as well as her voluminous petticoats, and stood before him in a lacy bustier. He leaned back against the coolness of the window with a groan. He’d caught a glimpse of her stockings and garter when Madam had knocked them to the ground, but it hadn’t prepared him for this.
“Let me do the rest,” he demanded.
He didn’t wait for her agreement, but erupted from the window seat. Gathering her into his arms, he kissed her. Claimed her. Told her without words how beautiful he found her. And then he journeyed downward, worshipping her with mouth and tongue and teeth.
Turning her so her back was to him, he swept the ebony tumble of curls over her shoulder and unhooked her bustier, exposing the elegant sweep of her spine. He traced his fingertip from the back of her neck down to the dip just above her buttocks. Teasing her with the lightest of caresses, he finished undressing her until she stood before him clad only in the silvery rays pouring in through the window. She lifted her arms and shook her hair free. The heavy ringlets cascaded toward her waist. Then she turned ever so slightly and looked at him over her shoulder. He could just make out the sweet curve of her breast.
“Please, Jack,” she whispered. “Make love to me.”
Eight
Without a word, Jack swept Annalise into his arms and carried her to the petal-strewn bed. He lowered her to the satin duvet, the rich ruby color a perfect complement to her hair and skin.
“Nudity becomes you, wife.”
She laughed softly, just a hint of shyness evident in the deepening color that swept across her cheekbones. “I suspect it would become you, as well.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Or were you going to make love to me with your pants on?”
Following her example, he removed his remaining clothing, lingering over the process the same way she had, despite the urgency to simply finish the job and get down to business. He wanted to go slow, to ease toward the moment when they became one. To build the memories one blistering touch at a time.
When he finished stripping, she moistened her lips and lifted up onto her elbows. “Jack … I think I should warn you that I’ve just started birth control but it’s not effective yet. I guess I should have said something sooner.”
“I’ll take care of everything.”
He made short work of the matter and then joined her on the bed. Candlelight flickered across her, gleaming on the sweet, rounded curves of her body and chasing darkness into the dips and valleys. He traced his index finger across the dusky tip of her breast, watching the nipple bead beneath the light caress.
“What should I do?” Annalise asked.
“Whatever you feel like. Nothing you do will be wrong.”
“Show me how,” she insisted. “Show me what you like.”
Jack took her hands in his and guided them to his chest, pressed them there, close