Pregnant by the Rival CEO

His hand snaked under the back of her sweater, conveying what she’d been so eager to know—he wanted clothes to come off as badly as she did. His fingers fumbled with the bra clasp, which was so adorable. He was so smooth. It was nice to know he couldn’t make the entire universe conform to his will.

“Here. Let me,” she muttered. Now flat-footed, she lifted her sweater over her head then clutched it to her chest. “Everybody’s gone for the day, right?” It would be so like her to undress while the gardener was watching.

He laughed, a flicker of appreciation crossing his face as he plucked the sweater from her hands and tossed it onto the foyer bench. “Yes.” Leaning closer, he poked his finger under one of her black satin bra straps, popping it off her shoulder. “It’s just you and me and this big house.”

His words didn’t merely prompt a rapid wave of goose bumps—they were about to become a permanent feature of her complexion. She bit down on her lip. If this was going to happen, it would be good. She reached behind and unhooked her bra, but left it for him to take off. “Tell me you want me to stop.”

“Tell me you want me to stop.” He kissed the curve of her neck—the most sensitive spot, the one that made her want to squeal with delight.

“No stopping. Please, no stopping.”

He didn’t tear his gaze from her as he slid the other strap from her shoulder. He dragged the garment down her arms slowly. His vision sank lower. “You are too beautiful to have anything less than exactly what you want. Tell me what you want.” Gripping her rib cage with both hands, his thumbs caressed the tender underside of her breasts, as he lowered his head and gave one nipple a gentle lick.

The gasp that rose from the depths of her throat sounded like a lifetime of frustration being cut loose. She dropped her chin to her chest when he did it again. She loved watching him admire her this way, knowing that she turned him on. “I want you. Right now.”

“Upstairs,” he muttered.

Before she knew what he was doing, she was off her feet and in his arms, feeling tiny, like she weighed nothing at all. He marched up the stairs and she clung to his neck, desperate to kiss him again.

The hall to his bedroom seemed to stretch for miles. Neither of them said a thing. Their heavy breaths carried the conversation instead. They reached their destination, a grand room with vaulted ceilings and windows overlooking the grounds. He set her down gently on the enormous four-poster bed, smiling.

He lifted his sweater over his head. The soft, evening light showed off the incredible contours and definition of his chest and abs—perfectly smooth, no hair except for a narrow trail below his belly button. His shoulders were far better than any item of clothing had ever suggested. Not even the motorcycle jacket did them justice—square and broad, begging for her touch.

She sat up and flattened her hands against his firm chest, his skin warming her palms. With her arms raised, he cupped her breasts with his hands. She would’ve dropped her head back in pure ecstasy if she wasn’t so anxious to have his mouth on hers again. As if she’d spoken her wish, he bestowed a long, reckless kiss...hot and wet and magnificent.

She was dying of curiosity to know what the rest of him looked like. She unzipped his pants and pushed them to the floor. She dipped her fingers beneath the waistband of his gray boxer briefs, shimmying them down his trim hips. He kissed her again, and she wrapped her hand around his length, relishing the forceful groan that he made into her mouth.

He urged her to lie back, kissing her bare stomach. She watched as he unbuttoned her jeans and wiggled them south. His eyes were on her body as if he were entranced. Everything between her legs was eager for attention. Her entire body tensed with anticipation. “Touch me, Jacob. Please.” The words had wandered out of her mouth, the thoughts in her head trickling out.

He tugged her panties down, casting his dark eyes up toward hers as his fingers met her apex. She couldn’t let go of her grip on his head as he rocked his hand back and forth. It felt impossibly good to be at his mercy—wanted, desired. The pain of the past washed away like the tide erases writing in the sand. Their gazes locked, and it was as if she could see more of him, parts that he obscured, the vulnerable things he had hidden from her.

The pressure was building, the peak within her grasp too soon. “Make love to me,” she said. How many times had she imagined this? Hundreds, and it hadn’t come close to matching the real thing.

He dotted her stomach with soft, open-mouth kisses, firmly gripping her waist. When he rose to his feet, he opened the top drawer of a tall, dark-wood bureau. He ripped open the foil packet and handed her the condom. She wasn’t about to ruin the moment with mention of the reasons they might not need one. Plus, she liked the idea of focusing on him, just as he had on her.