The Consequence He Must Claim (The Montero Baby Scandals 1)

If possible, he was even more perfect than he had been then. He was flawless, from the rope-like muscles across his chest to his neatly muscled arms. An arrow of hair dissected his perfectly delineated abs and a pale tan line accented the crease at the tops of his long, taut thighs.

And then there was the long, thick, darkly flushed organ that barely moved as he skimmed his shorts away and leaned toward the night table.

“I never acted on those thoughts,” he said. “My favorite was the blue skirt that was just a little too short for the office.” He brought a box out of the drawer. “You always wore it with that prim little shirt with the round collar that had a button that strained just a little bit, right here.” He pointed to the spot on his breastbone between his nipples. “I wanted to rip open that shirt and push that skirt up to your waist so badly.”

“I’m beginning to wonder if I did all the work and you were just sitting there thinking about sex.”

“I multitask.”

Didn’t he? In one motion he tore open a blue packet and applied the condom while arousing her with a few naughty remarks and the blaze of sexual hunger in his gaze as he visually traversed her nude form.

She wanted to show some modesty and shield herself, but there was a brazen part of her that enjoyed his obvious hunger. She thought about the way he’d taken her apart and wanted to have the same effect on him.

Giving a little writhe on the coverlet, she watched for reaction, surprised when he reached out and stilled her knee. His gaze flashed into hers and she thought, Oh.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, voice a breathy taunt. “You told me that day that I needed a man who would take control because I have too much of it. Do you still think that?”

His expression shuttered as he covered her with his hot body, hard legs moving between hers to push them apart and make space for himself. His hips lowered against hers, firm shaft pressing against tender flesh.

She shivered with anticipation.

“Say my name,” he growled as he held her head in two hands.

“Why?” she asked, letting her fingers trace the bulging muscles of his arms where he caged her.

“Because I want you to.”

She smoothed the sole of her foot on his leg. The movement caused a little rock of friction where his shaft rested against her.

He let more of his weight settle on her hips, stilling her tease. His stare warned her to comply.

She smiled. “I don’t work for you anymore. I don’t have to listen to you.”

“You’re my wife. You belong to me.”

“Do I?” There was something wrong with her that she responded to that possessiveness. But he wasn’t a man who collected things for the sake of it. He was spare about the things he accumulated, but he insisted on the best. To be counted among what he valued meant something.

“You do,” he assured her, shifting so he could palm her breast. Lowering his head, he breathed hotly across the tip.

Her nipple tightened so fast it hurt.

“Cesar,” she gasped.

“Good girl,” he said, giving her a lusty, superior smirk.

She scraped her nails against his shoulder, but he only shaped and massaged her breast. “I liked watching you come against m

y hand,” he said gruffly. “It used to drive me crazy that you would rather take a memo than let me make love to you.” His thumb flicked across her taut nipple and she felt it as a sharp pull in her abdomen and a flood of wet heat between her legs. “I admire control, but not when it prevents me from having what I want.”

“Who wants to give up a career for a one-night stand?” she asked with a hitch of her breath that held bitterness. “I needed my job more than I needed an orgasm.”

“It was a very good orgasm, wasn’t it?” He nipped her chin then looked down at where she was rocking her hips against him. “You already want another one.”

“Don’t you? I thought you had been waiting so long,” she said, goading him.

His nostrils flared and he slid his hand down between them, exploring and making her breath catch again, finding her ready for him and smiling faintly. He guided himself to her entrance and pressed.

The penetration stung. Not bad, but enough for her to press her hand against his chest to still him.