Dr Di Angelo's Baby Bombshell

He wanted to be inside her. Had wanted to be inside her all evening. All day. Forever.

A warning rang in his head. A warning he would usually have listened to, but not tonight. Tonight he was going to have Darby. All night. Every way. She was going to be his.

Darby was his.

Tomorrow he’d worry about the consequences. About the nagging voice that kept saying he shouldn’t do this.

Tonight was his, to explore her body, to kiss every inch of her, to commit every nook and cranny of her body to memory.

Tonight he’d know what it felt like to drown in the blue of her eyes, to lose himself in her smile, to taste the sweetness of her skin, thread his fingers into the long tresses of her thick hair, and to know Darby belonged to him.

She stared up at him, her eyes hazy, her lips swollen from his kisses. “Love me, Blake.”

With her demand, she reached for his belt, undid the catch with amazing speed and pulled the leather strap free from his pants. Her fingers curled around the belt.

He clasped her wrists, took the belt from her with ease. “Slow down, babe. We’re not in a hurry.”

Although he longed to reach the finish line, this was one race he planned to savor every step along the way.

With a clang, his belt landed on the bureau.

He turned back to the most beautiful woman he’d ever known, the most seductive. Slow and tender, he claimed her mouth, capturing her sigh of pleasure.

“Blake…” she murmured against his lips. She pushed at his jacket, dropping it off his shoulders and down his arms. He stepped back to let the jacket fall to the floor.

Her gaze locked with his, she undid the buttons of the blue shirt that matched the exact shade of her desire-filled eyes. A shirt he’d bought for that very reason—because the color reminded him of her. When she’d undone the last button, she tugged the material from his waistband, brushed her hands over his chest and removed his shirt.

Bare-chested, standing in his dress pants, he waited to see what she’d do next. He wasn’t disappointed.

She ran her fingers along his abdomen. Sighing in appreciation, she bent, pressed her lips to his sternum, his collarbone, his throat. She rained kisses over his goose-pimpled flesh until he could stand no more.

“I want to taste you, Darby. Let me.”

“All you had to do was ask.” She turned, presenting her back for him to help remove her dress.

Inch by torturous inch he lowered the zipper, revealing more and more of her creamy skin, more and more of the black strapless bra. When he reached the indention of her low back, he pushed the blue spaghetti straps from her shoulders, slid the dress down her hips and let the material puddle at her feet.

She stood in the skimpy black underwear and garters he’d fantasized about only the night before, wearing heels that made her legs endless and his fantasies eternally grateful.

He swallowed, knowing her image was forever burned into his brain, knowing he never wanted to forget the way she looked or the desire for him in her eyes.

“You’re beautiful.” His voice rasped like that of a schoolboy, but he was thankful sound came forth at all, considering how thick his throat had grown.

“Thank you.”

“I mean it, Darby.” He ran his palms over her arms, laced his fingers with hers. “You are beautiful.”

“So are you.” Her gaze raked over him, reinforcing her praise, making him even harder.

She stepped into his embrace.

She tucked her head beneath his chin, wrapped her arms around his neck, and swayed to a tune that only they could hear.

He moved with her, each sway of their bodies exciting him more, each kiss, each touch building the momentum of what was to come.

His hands moved lower, trailing along her spine, cupping her bottom through the black silk. He lifted her to him, hip to hip, his hardness pressing into her softness. The contact wasn’t enough. He needed to be closer to her, needed to be inside her.

With him supporting her weight, and her arms wrapped around his neck, she raised her legs, pressing snugly against him, encircling his waist.