Accidentally Expecting. Michelle Celmer

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      He knelt on the bed beside her and pulled her shoes off one at a time, tossing them to the floor. When she reached up to undo her bra, he stopped her.

      “Keep it on.” His eyes raking over her as he knelt between her thighs. He hooked his hands around the backs of her knees and tugged her closer, the coarse hair on his legs tickling her skin. His actions were demanding and almost overpowering, yet somehow managed to be tender.

      Then he closed his eyes and cursed, a four-letter word she didn’t think men like him used.

      “What’s wrong?”

      “I just realized, I don’t have protection.”

      No protection? What man in this day and age didn’t carry condoms?

      The kind who didn’t have sex until he was in a committed relationship, which she was guessing typically took more than two hours and three Scotch on the rocks.

      Lucky for him a modern woman was always prepared. She had been anticipating this.

      “In my purse.”

      He reached over and grabbed it for her, and after she dug a condom out, he tried to take it from her.

      “Oh, no,” she said, ripping it open. “This is my favorite part.”

      She watched him watching her, the heat in his eyes as she rolled it on. Then she reached up and threaded her fingers behind his neck, pulling him to her, his warm weight sinking her into the mattress without squashing her. Every part of him felt warm and strong and solid.

      He kissed her, the deep soul-searching kind, while he tortured her with small thrusts of his hips. She clung to him, sinking her nails into his shoulders, his backside, her body arching with impatience. She’d never felt so out of control, so swept away with lust. It was as if Zack wanted to see her beg for it, wanted her to know she was completely under his control, and she was. She would do anything he wanted right now. Anything he asked.

      It frightened her almost as much as it turned her on.

      After that, everything became a mystifying blur of intense sensation. Sights and sounds and feelings all jumbled together into something so overpowering she couldn’t even name it. And when they reached the peak together, she knew her idea of what sex was supposed to be had been inexplicably changed.

      This was what it felt like to really connect with another person. To be separate, but one.

      And she could never see Zachary Jameson again.

      * * *

      Zack sat in his home office at the computer, where he did most of his work these days, attempting to write the syndicated monthly column that was due on the editor’s desk by the end of the week. Unfortunately, all he’d been able to think about in the past two months since his trip to New York was Miranda Reed.

      He wasn’t typically attracted to strong, independent women, and he’d never slept with a woman on the first date. Not since college, anyway. But there was something about her he’d found impossible to resist, something that prompted him to reject his own morals and put his reputation on the line.

      A million little things, which all wrapped up together, had him craving her company, her touch.

      But they had agreed, despite their attraction, that to pursue any kind of relationship would be a waste of time. Not only did they live a thousand miles from each other, they had conflicting beliefs and values. She wasn’t interested in a commitment and he had no desire for a short-term relationship based solely on sex.

      What they had was an extreme case of opposites attract. Two people who had nothing in common but good sex.

      No, not good sex. Great sex. Mind-blowing sex.

      And absolutely no future together.

      He’d done a fairly decent job of convincing himself they were both better off. But there was still a little voice in the back of his mind asking, what if he’d made a mistake letting her go? Unfortunately, he’d found listening to that little voice to be irrational and ill-advised.

      His desk phone rang. Line two, his doorman. He only called up if Zack had a guest, and he wasn’t expecting anyone. Nor was he in the mood for company.

      He picked up the phone anyway. “Yes, Danny.”

      “Someone here to see you, Mr. Jameson. A Ms. Reed.”

      For a second he was sure he misunderstood. “Ms. who?”

      “Miranda Reed, sir. Shall I send her up?”

      What the hell was Miranda doing in Chicago? And why was she here, at his building? How did she even know where he lived?

      “Sir?”

      He shook off the sudden confusion. “Yeah, sure. Go ahead and send her up.”

      He hung up the phone and sat there for a second feeling dazed and bewildered. They had agreed not to see each other again, then she shows up out of the blue on his doorstep? What was she up to?

      When the doorbell chimed, he rose from his desk and walked to the front door, the whole situation feeling a bit surreal. Then he realized he was nervous.

      Nervous and excited to see her, even though he knew any relationship between them would lead to a dead end. Unless she’d had a drastic change of heart and, as she’d so aptly phrased it, succumbed to the allure of the dark side, there was no reason for her to come here.

      He pulled open the door and there she stood, dressed casually in low-slung flared jeans, a denim jacket and a jewel-encrusted T-shirt that rode up just high enough to show off her navel ring. She looked young and sassy and hip, a completely different spin on the no-nonsense alluring woman he’d taken up to her room.

      The way she looked him up and down, taking in his faded jeans, T-shirt and bare feet, she was probably thinking the same thing.

      The attraction, the soul-deep connection that he’d tried to write off as a fluke, was apparently no fluke after all. His first instinct was to tug her into his arms and kiss her senseless.

      It struck him as odd that they’d been so intimate, and they barely knew one another. Yet he felt as though they were connected somehow. He knew her, even though he didn’t know her.

      “Hi,” she finally said.

      “Hi.”

      She shifted nervously. “So, I’ll bet you’re surprised to see me.”

      That was an understatement. Did she think she could bounce in and out of his life like a ping-pong ball?

      She fidgeted with the bottom edge of her jacket. “I hope it’s not a problem. My stopping by unannounced, I mean.”

      He folded his arms over his chest. “I guess that depends on what you want.”

      “What I want?” She looked confused, then the meaning of his words seemed to sink in. “Oh, I’m only here to talk.”

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