P.S. I'm Pregnant: Hot-Shot Tycoon, Indecent Proposal

She stirred, squinting in her sleep. He strolled to the large floor-to-ceiling windows, where sunlight flooded the room, to close the curtains.

‘Where am I?’

He turned at the soft murmur, to find his guest propped up on her elbows. She gazed at him out of those large mossy eyes, looking confused and wary—and good enough to eat.

‘You were out cold,’ he said as he finished closing the curtains. ‘I figured you’d be better in bed.’

Her eyes popped wide. ‘Mr Brody! What are you doing up?’

He sat on the edge of the bed, and smiled, touched by her concern. ‘I’m right as rain, thanks to you.’ He traced his thumb over the pulse in her throat, resting his fingers on her collarbone, and felt her shiver of response. ‘And seeing as you’ve seen me naked, Daisy Dean, I think you best be calling me Connor, don’t you?’

Colour flooded her cheeks, giving her pale skin a pretty pink glow. He chuckled, desire stirring again, but a lot more forcefully this time. No, she wasn’t immune to him at all.

What the hell? Why not let breakfast wait until after that thank-you kiss?

Daisy blinked, the last of the sleepy fog clearing from her brain. Goodness, those eyes, that face were even more devastating spotlighted by the shaft of daylight beaming through the curtains.

And his comment had brought back dangerous memories: of how delicious he’d looked naked—and just how thoroughly she’d assessed all his assets.

She pulled back, sat up. Did he know about that? Maybe he hadn’t been as delirious as she’d thought.

‘I’m so glad you’re feeling better,’ she said. She breathed in the scent of freshly washed male and was hit by another alarming jolt of memory. ‘Sorry to pass out like that but it was a long night.’

‘It was,’ he said, the confidential curve of his lips doing very strange things to Daisy’s heart rate.

‘Right, well…’ she edged back ‘… I should shoot off. You obviously don’t need me here any more and I—’

He leaned over and grasped her upper arm, halting her retreat in mid-scramble.

‘You’ll not be running off,’ he said, ‘before I’ve a chance to thank you.’ The mesmerising blue gaze dipped to her lips as the Irish in his voice became more pronounced. ‘Properly.’

Heat flooded between her thighs. But instead of saying the polite denial her mind was screaming at him—something else entirely popped out of her mouth. ‘How do you intend to do that?’

His eyes flared and he cradled her cheeks in his palms. His hands felt rough but unbearably erotic as he threaded his fingers through her hair, pushed the heavy mass back from her face. ‘How about we start here?’ he murmured, still smiling that devastating smile, his breath feathering her cheeks.

Then he slanted his lips across hers. The warm, wet heat was so shocking, and so unexpected, Daisy gasped. His tongue probed, firm and possessive, and her mind disengaged completely as the reckless thrill, the spike of adrenaline shimmered through her bloodstream.

He tasted of coffee and chocolate and danger. Forgetting everything but the feel of his lips on hers, Daisy sank shaking fingers into the silky black curls at his nape and drew him in as a drowning woman draws breath.

He didn’t need any more encouragement. The kiss went from coaxing to demanding as he hauled her against him, his palm sweeping down her back. The weight of his long, strong body pressed her into the mattress as he pushed her down. She gave a staggered moan. This was madness, supreme folly and she couldn’t summon the will to care.

As his lips stoked her into a frenzy she heard the hiss of her zipper. He reared back, breaking the kiss. Their eyes locked, his stormy with passion, the gleam of desire so intense she felt as if she’d been branded.

‘You’re beautiful, Daisy Dean,’ he said, his thumbs stroking her nipples through the fabric as his eyes met hers. ‘I want you naked.’ The gruff statement was both question and demand.

She drew in ragged breaths, her arousal painful, as he tugged down the bodice of her dress, unsnapped the hook of her bra and bared her breasts.

She should have been shocked; she should have pushed him away. This was all wrong and she knew it. She’d been telling herself all night, she didn’t even like this man—that he was not her kind of guy. But the time spent tending him, caressing fever-drenched flesh, hearing the broken cries of his nightmares, had formed a strong bond of intimacy that she couldn’t seem to shake.

She’d looked into his soul last night, was looking into it now. They’d connected on some primal level and this was the only way to break the spell.

She wanted him naked too. She wanted him inside her.

His legs straddled hers and she looked down to see the ridge of his erection pressed against faded denim. Her fate was sealed as all her common sense dissolved to leave nothing but raw need clawing at her gut.

She shifted, but couldn’t budge, pinned to the bed under him.

‘You’ll have to get off me if you want me naked,’ she said.

‘Good point.’ His grin dazzled her. ‘I’ll race you,’ he said, bounding off the bed.

She lurched into a sitting position, and watched mesmerised as he whipped his T-shirt over his head and his six-pack rippled. She looked away, determined not to be distracted from the task at hand by the muscular chest she’d spent most of the night memorising by touch. Anticipation surged through her. She was going to win this race.

She grappled with her shoelaces, cursing her choice of footwear. If only she’d stuck with the sandals. Finally she freed her feet, toed off the boots and flung them off the bed. She heard the thud as his jeans hit the floor, concentrated on wriggling her dress over her hips.

Heat blasted through every nerve ending as she looked up to see him standing before her, gloriously naked and his erection looking even more magnificent than she remembered it.

She bit into her bottom lip; her breath clogged her throat as excitement and trepidation seared her insides like a flashfire. He mounted the bed, grasped her ankle and gave a sharp tug. ‘Come here,’ he said, dragging her beneath him.

‘Wait.’ She braced her hand on his chest. ‘I want to touch you.’

‘Same here,’ he said, cupping her chin. ‘Let’s negotiate.’

Then he kissed her, moulding their mouths together and crushing her body into the mattress. The coarse hair of his chest abraded swollen nipples. She dragged in a breath, let it shudder out as his lips trailed over her collarbone. His tongue slid fire across the swell of her breast and then his teeth nipped at the rigid peak and tugged. Rough hands kneaded her buttocks as his lips found hers again, the kiss so wildly erotic she thought she might be consumed by the flames.

She reached down, shaking with suppressed desire, and cupped his powerful erection in her palm. He shuddered as her fingers wrapped around the pulsing length.

She revelled in the feel of him, everything she’d imagined and more. His forehead touched hers, his whole body vibrating, his breathing harsh as she stroked and caressed him, learning the shape and texture as she had yearned to do all through the night. Velvet over steel. So solid, so warm, so responsive to her touch.

She ran her thumb over the thick head, felt the tantalising bead of moisture. He cursed softly and grasped her wrist, jerking back.

‘You’ll have to stop, or this’ll be over before it’s begun,’ he rasped.

‘I don’t want to stop,’ she cried, desperation edging the words.

Don’t make me stop. Don’t make me think, her mind screamed.

I don’t want to think, I just want to feel.

‘Are you sure?’ he asked. ‘I don’t want to rush you.’

She’d never been more sure of anything in her life.

‘I want to rush. I’m ready,’ she said, alarmed, need overwhelming her. She had to do it now, before the delicious fog of sensation cleared.

‘Let’s see how ready, then,’ he murmured.

Before she could figure out what he meant, his fingers delved into the curls at her sex. She shuddered as he circled her clitoris and probed. She cried, gripped his shoulders, slick juices flooding out as she bucked against those knowing fingers, primed to explode.

He chuckled. The sound deep, husky and self-satisfied. ‘Hell, you’re incredible.’ His fingers pushed inside her, his thumb grazing the hard nub. She moaned, clinging to the edge of control. ‘But you’re a bit tight, Angel Face,’ he said, sounding regretful.

‘What?’ The question shuddered out on a breath of need—and confusion. Why was he still waiting?

He groaned, holding her buttocks as he pressed his erection against the slick folds of her sex. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

‘You won’t,’ she gasped. ‘I want you inside me.’ How much more encouragement did he need? ‘Now.’

‘You’re sure?’ he asked again, making her want to scream.

She nodded, lifting her knees, angling her hips to accommodate him, so frantic she’d lost the power of speech. If he didn’t get on with it, she’d die of need.

She was about to tell him so when he stilled, cursed under his breath and then, to her complete astonishment, pulled away from her and climbed off the bed.

She bounced up on her elbows. Horrified.

‘Where are you going?’ she cried out on a thin wail of exasperation. Had he lost his mind?

He bent to get something out of his bedside table. ‘What’s the hurry, angel?’ he murmured.

Her eyes drifted down to that perfect rear end. Lust and frustration surged through her. She wanted to scream the house down. He’d worked her up to the point of meltdown and now he’d decided to rearrange his dresser!

‘What’s the hurry? Are you joking?’ she squeaked, embarrassed by the desperate quiver in her voice.

He turned back gripping a telltale foil packet between his fingers and heat flooded into her cheeks. Even in her rampaging nymphomania, how could she have forgotten about protection?

‘No joke,’ he said, sounding ever so slightly smug. ‘We wouldn’t want any surprises.’

He knelt back on the bed, grinning at her as he ripped open the packet with his teeth and rolled the condom on. He put his hands over her shoulders, forcing her back on the bed, caging her in.

‘Hasn’t anyone ever told you, patience is a virtue, angel?’ His eyes dipped to her tightly peaked nipples. ‘Although, it should be said, there’s not a lot of virtue in what I’m thinking right at the minute.’

Daisy’s caustic reply caught in her throat as his lips covered hers. She rose up to kiss him back, letting the need, the sensation take over. But as she wrapped her arms round him, her fingers found the ridges on his back and tenderness welled up right beside the need.

His fingers gripped her hips and in one smooth move, he thrust inside her.

She sobbed, the fullness shocking her, the fury of sensations making her cry out. Then he began to move. Slow, heavy, insistent strokes that had the orgasm coiling ruthlessly inside her.

A staggered moan wrenched from her throat as the intense pleasure sent shock waves rocketing up from her core. She anchored her legs round his waist, sweat slicking her skin as she moved to meet each of his deep thrusts with thrusts of her own, and he drove deeper still. Her high-pitched pants matched his harsh grunts. Everything clamped down, her whole body glowing and pulsating as it rode the crest of a magnificent wave. The broken sobs echoed in her head as she burst free and exploded over the top—and heard his muffled shout as he crashed over behind her.

‘That was amazing. You’re amazing,’ Connor murmured, stroking Daisy’s cheek, then winced at the cliché.

But what else was he to say? Hell, if he hadn’t been horizontal already he would have fallen over. He’d never had a stronger, more satisfying orgasm in his life. The experience had been literally mind-altering.

Using every last ounce of his strength he braced his arms to stop himself from collapsing on top of the woman responsible and crushing her. Her eyelids fluttered open as he stared down at her. He grinned as she focussed on his face. She looked as shattered as him, those round expressive eyes wide with amazement.

Then her vaginal muscles squeezed around him in the final throes of her orgasm.

‘God, sorry,’ she whispered as the pink in her cheeks darkened to maroon.

She looked horrified.

He had no clue what the problem was—but with her still wrapped tight around him he was finding it hard to give a damn. Feeling the blood rushing back to his groin, he did the decent thing—with not a small amount of regret—and lifted off her. The next round would have to wait. Something had spooked her—and he didn’t want to scare her off.

Propping his elbow beside her head, he leaned over her. His gaze swept her lush little figure and came to rest on her face. The flush of afterglow warmed her skin and dilated her pupils, darkening the deep green of her eyes, while the sprinkle of freckles across her nose defined those impossibly high cheekbones. She really was gorgeous.

She coloured even more, then looked away and tried to scoot out from under him. He locked his arm round her waist. ‘Now where would you be going? We’re not half finished yet.’

She wiggled, he held firm. Finally she looked at him, her cheeks now a deep and very becoming shade of scarlet. ‘There’s no time for anything else. I really have to be going, Mr Brody.’

His eyebrows shot up at the formal address. Then he simply couldn’t stop himself. He threw back his head and roared with laughter.

When he finally got his amusement under control, she’d stiffened like a board, her bottom lip puffed up in a defiant pout as she glared at him.

He grinned. What was she about?

Women! He gave his head a rueful shake. They really were a whole different species. But didn’t that make them all the more fascinating?

‘Angel Face,’ he murmured, loving the way her eyes narrowed, ‘as we’ve just made love like a couple of rabbits, I think you’d best be calling me Connor.’

CHAPTER FIVE

DAISY was utterly mortified. But she couldn’t decide if she was more annoyed by her own behaviour or the patronising look on Connor Brody’s face as he held her trapped by his side.

‘I don’t feel comfortable calling you by your given name,’ she blurted out. And then realised how prim and ridiculous it sounded.

Thank goodness he didn’t bust a gut laughing at her again. But the twinkle in his eye made it clear it was a struggle not to.

‘Should I make you more comfortable, then?’ He pulled the sheet over her, flattening his open palm on the expensive linen and lifting his eyebrow as if willing her to share the joke.

Daisy felt the warm weight of his hand on her belly and turned away, feeling so exposed she wanted to die on the spot.

When she’d surfaced a moment ago to find him gazing at her, his face flushed, those sexy blue eyes intent on hers and his erection still gloriously firm inside her, the hideous truth had dawned on her.

She’d ravished a complete stranger. Had as good as begged him to make love to her.

Which meant she was her mother’s daughter after all. Her mother, who had spent her whole life latching on to any guy who could give her a decent orgasm.

Daisy didn’t know the first thing about Connor Brody. And he knew nothing about her. For all he knew she could be the sort of woman who made rabbit-love every chance she got. He couldn’t possibly know she’d never ravished anyone before in her life.

The fact that the orgasm they’d shared had been the most incredible she’d ever had only made the situation that much worse.

When the muscles of her sex had clenched in response to the feel of him inside her, she’d been mortally embarrassed. Knowing she’d been tricked by her pheromones into believing they shared an intimacy, a connection, that they actually didn’t.

Whatever way you looked at it, she’d used this man and his mouth-watering body to slake a temporary physical thirst—and fallen victim to her own libido. In so doing she’d broken the solemn promise she’d made to herself as a teenager, that she would never be like her mother. That she would never let her libido rule her life.

A calloused thumb skimmed down her cheek. ‘What’s the problem? Tell me and we’ll see to it.’

Daisy swung round to face him. The tenderness in his eyes surprised her, but the lazy, confident, let’s-humour-her smile on his lips contradicted it rather comprehensively.

Daisy felt her misery being replaced by irritation.

It really was a bit much of him to find the biggest identity crisis of her life so hilarious.

She sat up abruptly. She had to stop wallowing. Letting a total stranger witness her having a breakdown was not going to help matters. ‘I’m absolutely fine,’ she said, her voice as matter-of-fact as she could manage.

She grasped the sheet to her breasts, pushed her hair behind her ears, and felt a tiny bit better. She’d always been a woman of action. Once she saw a problem she set about fixing it. She’d have more than enough time later to analyse her wanton, irresponsible behaviour and what it all meant. Right now she needed to get the heck away from her studly neighbour before anything else happened.

The way he’d been studying her—all that smouldering intent in his gaze—suggested he was planning a repeat performance. And she wasn’t entirely sure she could trust her body not to take him up on his offer. Given what this little liaison had already cost her, another frenzied encounter with Mr Sex-On-A-Stick was the very last thing she needed.

‘This is a little awkward,’ she said. ‘But could you pass me my dress? I need to be off.’

He made no move to get her dress, so she scooted down the bed, intending to lean over him and get it herself.

But as she did so he stroked a hand down her hair. ‘What’s the rush?’ he murmured, his voice husky but firm. ‘Let’s talk about it. Whatever it is, we can fix it.’

She gaped at him over her shoulder. Would you credit it? The only time in her life she’d rather gnaw off her own tongue than talk about her feelings and she’d found the one man on the planet willing to share and discuss.

‘Mr Bro…’ She paused when his eyebrow lifted again. ‘Connor, we had sex. It was great sex. So thank you. But I don’t think there’s anything else to say.’

Both his eyebrows lifted at that one. Clearly, her no-nonsense approach had shocked him but she soldiered on. ‘We have absolutely nothing in common,’ she continued, slipping off the bed. ‘We’re obviously totally wrong for each other.’ She dropped her end of the sheet and whipped on her dress. ‘This was strictly a one-shot deal after a difficult night.’

They both knew the score here, and if he thought they were going to have another quickie for old times’ sake he could forget it—the first one had been quite devastating enough to her peace of mind.

She pulled on her knickers, scouted around for her bra, grabbed it off the floor and shoved it into the pocket of her dress. ‘So why don’t we call it quits and leave it at that?’

She straightened, holding one baseball boot as she scoured the luxurious deep-pile carpet for the other.

‘Are you serious?’ he asked. He hadn’t moved, the sheet resting tantalisingly low on his hips as he stared at her.

‘Absolutely,’ she said, forcing a smile.

Noticing the way the thin wisps of black hair curled around his belly button, she swallowed and averted her eyes. To her immense relief she spotted the other boot peeking out from under the bed. She grabbed it and stood up.

He’d propped himself up on the pillows, and was still studying her, looking stunned.

No doubt with those dark, dangerous good looks and the masterful way he made love, having the woman do a runner was a new experience for him. Daisy couldn’t muster much sympathy. He’d have to learn to deal with it. She had her own problems.

He slid his feet to the floor, the sheet now barely covering him.

Daisy threw up her hand to stop him going any further. ‘Please don’t get up. I can see myself out,’ she squeaked. The last thing she needed was another full-frontal view of that mouth-watering physique.

Before he could say another word, she dashed out the door, barefoot.

Connor gaped at the open bedroom door and listened to the pit-pat of Daisy’s footsteps as she hightailed it down the stairs.

The muffled slam of the front door echoed at the bottom of the house.

He flopped back on the bed, stared at the ceiling and frowned at the fancy light fixture his interior designer had insisted on shipping in from Barcelona.

What the hell had that been about?

He might as well have set her tail on fire, she’d shot out of the room so fast. Either he’d been hallucinating, or he’d just been treated to the female equivalent of the ‘wham-bam thank you, ma’am’ routine.

He guessed he ought to be hurt, but first he’d have to get over the shock.

Not that he hadn’t been dumped before, mind you. Of course he had. He could still recall Mary O’Halloran, slapping him down in front of all his mates when he’d been thirteen and full of the carelessness of youth. He’d snogged her and forgotten to call her the next day so he figured he’d deserved it. In fact, he still felt a little guilty whenever he thought about Mary.

But even Mary, riled to the hilt, hadn’t dumped him without chewing his ear off first for twenty minutes about all his shortcomings. And he’d never met a woman since who wouldn’t talk you to death about ‘the state of the relationship’ as soon as look at you. God, when he thought about all the times Rachel had insisted on ‘having a little chat about where they were headed’ his stomach sank.

So why should he care that Daisy had brushed off his offer to talk? Sure, he hadn’t really meant it. All he’d wanted to do was calm her down, get her to stick around.

He lay on the bed, the ripples of sexual fulfilment making him feel lethargic, and tried to convince himself it was all for the best. He should be overjoyed. It made things a lot less complicated. He wasn’t looking for anything serious and neither was she.

He rubbed his belly, stretched his legs under the sheet, contemplated taking another shower, then caught the heady whiff of her scent. Heat surged into his crotch. He frowned and sat up, staring at the tent forming in his lap.

The damn problem was, he wasn’t pleased. Because he wasn’t finished with her yet. Okay, they had nothing in common, and their one-night stand, or one-morning stand or whatever the hell it was didn’t have any future. But still, he hadn’t wanted it to end, not yet. He’d had plans for today. Fine, so them getting naked and having mind-blowing sex hadn’t been a definite part of it, but he didn’t see why they shouldn’t go with the flow there. They might not be compatible out of bed, but they sure as hell were in it. In fact they were more than compatible. She’d been as blown away as he had by the intensity of…

He stopped, his brain finally catching up with his indignation. Had she been spooked by how good they were together? He relaxed back into the pillow, the pounding heat in his groin finally starting to subside.

That had to be the problem. Daisy might be the most pragmatic, forthright woman he’d ever met, but she was still a girl. And wasn’t it just like a girl to analyse everything to death? To worry about what great sex meant instead of just enjoying it while it lasted.

He huffed out a laugh.

And now he thought about it, he didn’t have to feel hard done by either. Little Daisy might turn out to be his ideal woman. Someone sexy enough to turn him inside out with lust and smart enough to know he wasn’t a good bet for the long haul. Hell, they’d only just met and she’d already figured that out. Now all he had to do was show her that just because they weren’t going to spend the rest of their natural lives together, didn’t mean they couldn’t spend the next little while exploring their potential in other areas.