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

“Hello, Henry,” Amanda greeted him.

The doorman nodded. “Good afternoon, Ms. Crawford, Mr. Harper.”

Alex nodded a greeting and escorted Amanda across the white marble-floored lobby and around the doorman’s desk. He had learned to trust his first impressions of people and there was something about the man’s eyes and body language that bothered him.

Amanda looked up at Alex as they crossed the lobby. “I cannot get over how much your brother looks like you. It’s almost as if he’s a carbon copy. He has your coloring, your gestures and even a similar speech pattern.”

The back of Alex’s neck prickled. She had spent a lot of time with Zack. Had she guessed the truth? “We’re brothers. Siblings have similarities.”

“Since I don’t have any brothers or sisters I wouldn’t know. You both look exactly like your mother. I couldn’t find any trace of your father in either you or Zack.”

He didn’t want to pursue this conversation. He hit the elevator call button since her hands were full with the coffee and muffin bag and her oversize tote bag.

“Did I tell you how much I enjoyed having you in my bed all weekend?” He leaned toward her and pitched his voice low so Henry couldn’t overhear.

Her breath caught and desire expanded her pupils, igniting a burn in his gut. She darted a quick glance over his shoulder toward the doorman’s desk and then hit him with a small naughty smile that knocked the air from his lungs. “You might have mentioned it. Once or twice.”

Hunger pulsed through him. “I want to stay tonight, Amanda.”

Her cheeks flushed. The elevator doors opened. She hustled into the car, pivoted on her spike-heeled ankle boots and faced him as the doors closed. “You have to stop doing that. We’re temporary, remember?”

He stroked her jaw with a fingertip and then bent to sip from her lips once, twice, a third time. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. He drew back until only the tips of their noses touched.

“Stop telling you I want you? Or stop spending the night? I’m not moving in, Amanda. I want to be lost in you again. We’re good together.”

Her head tipped back to rest against the wall. Staring up at him, she swallowed, licked her lips and inhaled a shuddery breath.

“You can stay tonight. But, Alex, when your party ends, we end. Okay? I’m not looking for forever. And neither are you. Let’s not try to make something out of this temporary diversion that it’s not. Your parents already think…Well, you’re going to have to convince them that it’s not going to happen.”

Interesting to be on the receiving end of that comment for a change. Interesting. But not enjoyable. “No. It’s not. I don’t do marriage.”

He wanted her for more than a few weeks, but he’d worry about changing her mind later. At the most they’d last a few months. He’d never met a woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Not even Zack’s mother. Especially not Zack’s mother. Chelsea Brooks was one devious, deceitful, greedy bitch. Too bad he hadn’t known that before their affair.

But Amanda wasn’t like Chelsea in any way. He leaned as close as the carrier of coffee Amanda held between them would allow and lowered his head. She met him halfway. Her lips parted and her tongue met his. Silky, slick, seductive. Need rose within him. He angled his head to deepen the kiss. Her scent filled his nose. Releasing her suitcase, he burrowed his hands beneath her heavy coat to the warmth of her waist and dug his fingers into the soft cashmere of her dress. His palms wicked up her heat, spreading it up his arms and through his torso.

A few months of this would be enough.

It would have to be. But at the moment his hunger for her seemed insatiable.

A chime announced they’d reached Amanda’s floor. He lifted his head and inhaled a sobering breath a second before the doors glided open. The interruption was a good thing, since he wasn’t into public displays of affection.

How did she do that to him? Make him forget where he was and that the elevator probably had security cameras? In his business, image was everything. He couldn’t afford to be caught with his pants down—literally or metaphorically. But then again, no one at 721 Park cared what he did. He wasn’t a resident. And in Greenwich he kept a low profile. The press ignored him to focus on the celebrities who made their home within the town’s borders.

He released Amanda, grabbed the handle of her suitcase and followed her out. He had to admit he found the slightly dazed look in her grey eyes gratifying. Nice to know he wasn’t the only one in a hormonal fog.

But like the weather, this fog would eventually lift.

Why had she let Alex talk her into this? Amanda asked herself as she unlocked her apartment door.

Because he gave you that look—the one that deepsixes your ability to think. A look he’s probably been perfecting since he was younger than Zack.

And he bribed you with a muffin.

God, you’re easy.

After sixty almost uninterrupted hours of Alex’s company, she needed to get away from the man. Watching him interact with Zack, she’d seen a side of him this weekend that she could have lived without—a caring, gentle, understanding side that had gone a long way toward eroding Alex’s player image. And she couldn’t afford to see him as anything less than a player. Alex was all about temporary and so was she. She liked it that way.

She shouldered open her door and marched straight into her kitchen, where she deposited her tote, the coffee and the bakery bag on the table. Alex followed.

“Have a seat. I’ll get your file. It’s in my office.”

He caught her elbow as she passed. “Eat first. I know you like your muffins hot and fresh from the oven.”

“That’s because the chocolate chips will still be gooey and delicious.” Thinking about it made her mouth water. She shrugged out of her coat. He took it from her and laid hers and his over the back of the extra chair.

Get it over with. Feed him. Update him. Get rid of him.

While she grabbed plates from the cabinet he tore open the bag. The scent of chocolate and roasted walnuts filled the room. Her stomach growled as she climbed onto one of the high stools. Alex did the same beside her. Their knees bumped beneath the table, sending a spray of sparks northward.

Good grief. She’d exhausted a year’s quota of orgasms this weekend. How could she still get all shivery and hot from just bumping knees with the man?

Doing her best to ignore him in his charcoal cashmere V-neck sweater and snug black jeans, she peeled away the muffin’s paper. Melted chocolate quickly coated her fingers. If she were alone she’d lick her fingers. But with Alex here she had to act like less of a glutton.

She rose to find some napkins, but Alex caught her wrist, pulling her between his splayed knees. His desirefilled gaze locked with hers as he lifted her hand to his mouth and laved her fingertip with a slick swipe. She shivered with want. He moved on to the next messy fingertip and the next.

Her eyelids grew heavy and drifted closed. Not good. Lack of sight only accentuated her other senses. She lost herself in his scent, the brackets of his strong thighs around her hips, the hot caress of his tongue swirling around each fingertip and the feel of his hand on the thin skin of her wrist. He couldn’t possibly miss her racing pulse beneath his thumb.

She forced her eyes open. He finished the left hand and moved to her right. Desire flushed 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 corner of her mind heard the condom wrapper tear. A tiny part realized he was taking care of protection, but her pulse roared when he grasped her hips, dug his fingers into her bottom, and pulled her to the edge of the high stool.

He nudged her entrance, slicking his tip in her moisture, and then he thrust forward. She tore her mouth from his to gasp as he filled her. When he withdrew, she dug her nails into his buttocks and pulled him back. He slid deep again and withdrew over and over. His teeth nipped her neck, making her gasp as a shock of longing bolted through her. She tilted her head to grant him better access.

Her pleasure built, fueled by his thumb circling her center. She wound her legs around his hips, savored the steam of his breath on her neck, her jaw, her cheek. And then orgasm reverberated through her like blasts from a bass speaker, making her body pulse and contract.

Alex’s hands tightened on her bottom, his tempo increased and his mouth covered hers in a desperate, edgy kiss. His groan filled her mouth as he stiffened with his own release.

Every cell in her body felt alive and aware of this man and of this moment. Why hadn’t any other man ever felt this good or made her feel this good?

It wasn’t fair that she’d finally found one who rocked her world. And she couldn’t keep him. He was too much a part of that restrictive world she’d grown up in.

The one in which she’d never fit.

Six

A cell phone jarred Amanda from sleep. She rolled over and blindly, groggily slapped around the nightstand until her fingers closed around the device. She fumbled it open.

“Hello.” Cracking an eyelid, she looked at her digital clock. Five-thirty. Who would be calling at this ungodly hour on a Monday morning?

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