The Ruthless Caleb Wilde

“Excuse me?”

“I said, I don’t want your money. Oh, don’t look so shocked. I know where this is going.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Really.”

“You’re going to write a check. And I’m going to sign some papers. At least, that’s your plan, but—”

“What kind of papers?”

She blinked. “What?”

“I said, since you seem to know what I’m going to say and do, what kind of papers am I going to ask you to sign?”

“Releases. Whatever they’re called. Something that says yes, I’ve accepted your check and no, I won’t bother you in the future, and—”

He moved fast; his hands were clasping her shoulders before she could get out of the way.

“What part of what I said before didn’t you understand?”

“Let go of me!”

“Or did you not hear me when I said this was our baby.”

“I heard you. It’s a figure of spee—”

“Dammit,” Caleb said furiously, and he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

What are you doing, Wilde?

The still-rational part of his mind posed the question.

The non-rational part gave up thinking.

Maybe she did, too, because after a second of protest, she went up on her toes, wound her arms around his neck and parted her lips to his.

The kiss was everything he’d remembered.

Hot. Deep. Electric. It made everything else unimportant.

His arms tightened around her.

“I have never stopped wanting you,” he whispered.

“I’ve wanted you every day, every night, every minute—”

He kissed her again. She kissed him back. Then he swung her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom, to the bed where all of this had begun.

He undressed her quickly. No finesse. Not now. Not when it had been so long since he’d held her, naked, against him.

He tore off his own clothes. Everything went flying.

“Caleb,” she said, raising her arms to welcome him, and he knelt between her thighs and entered her, hard and fast.

She was ready.

Hot. Wet. Sobbing his name at the fierce pleasure of his possession.

“Too quick,” he groaned, “too quick …”