Modern Romance Collection: May 2018 Books 1 - 4. Эбби Грин

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СКАЧАТЬ bed, was inevitable.

      He finally saw it. It had taken him six years, but Andreas finally got it.

      Kayla was meant to be his. Not just his business partner. Not just his family by default because she was his best friend, but the woman who would make his plan to prove his value, his plans for the future, happen.

      She made that small postcoital whimpering sound that had always driven him wild. “Andreas.”

      Nothing more, just his name, but in that breathy tone? With that sated expression on her beautiful café au lait face? It was all he needed. He would convince her that their futures were entwined.

      There was no other choice.

      He’d made her see six years ago that they needed to go into business together. Now he would convince her that marriage was the next logical step for them. Because not being in each other’s lives, that was not an option.

      Twisting his hips and pressing down, he drew out the dregs of their pleasure, pulling a moan from her, his own sexual satisfaction so deep he had to bite back a growl. “This is right, Kay-love. Admit it.”

      She gasped, looking at him with liquid gray eyes.

      He kissed her, demanding her body’s agreement with his lips. Her hips cradled him so perfectly, her mouth so soft against his own, the kiss surprisingly passionate considering what they had just done and how they had both come so spectacularly.

      But his body was not done, his hard-on never growing soft despite his climax, and within moments of the beginning of their passionate kiss, he was moving his hips again. Taking his time on this round, he drew out their pleasure, rubbing their bodies together even as he pressed in and drew out of her velvet heat in a rhythm as old as time, but that felt like something altogether new, just between them.

      Kayla moved against him, her hands on his body, touching him with instinctual knowledge of what would enhance his pleasure. She tugged him closer to her, like she wanted to meld their skin together, amping up his arousal.

      Her desire for him was an aphrodisiac all on its own.

      This time when she climaxed, her cry was soft and raw, her hands clutching his back, her nails digging into his skin. He reveled in the small pain as he came inside her, knowing that though chance was small, there was a chance they had a made a child together. That knowledge increased his own bliss tenfold, forcing a primal shout of victory from him.

      She was his.

      He smiled as her eyelids drooped, content to watch her fall asleep. She’d often done this before, napping for a few minutes to an hour after sex. And he spent the time watching her sleep. There was something intimate about this ritual, and personal, something only theirs.

      He had not realized how much he had missed watching her in slumber, but something settled inside him as she showed him the ultimate trust as her entire body relaxed into unconsciousness.

      He withdrew from her and rolled to the side, laying an unashamedly possessive hand over her stomach. The thought of her carrying his child was incredibly appealing. Visions of a little girl with curly black hair and gray eyes like her mama flashed in his mind’s eye.

      Kayla only slept about ten minutes, coming awake with a kittenish scrunching of her nose. Her gray gaze caught his in solemnity. “You’re still here.”

      “It is my bed.” He had brought her to his room on purpose. He’d been making a statement, but he wasn’t sure she got it.

      “You stayed in it. You don’t always. I’m surprised you’re not in the shower already.”

      “Much more enjoyable to share the shower.” He winked.

      She didn’t smile. Didn’t reply, but simply stared at him with fathomless eyes. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking and he didn’t like it.

      Without more discussion, he got up and lifted her out of the bed.

      She yelped. “Andreas, what do you think you are doing?”

      “Carrying you to the shower.”

      “I can walk!”

      “I never doubted it.” He nudged the large en suite bathroom’s door open with his shoulder.

      The oversize glass-encased shower was nearly as big as the one in his condominium back in Portland, sufficient space enough for two, especially if they didn’t mind getting close. And as far as he was concerned, that was the whole idea. He had always enjoyed washing her body, the intimacy of it something that touched him on a level he would never speak about, but it was especially good after they made love.

      He felt like he was taking care of her.

      She was so independent, there were few instances she allowed him to do so.

      But in the shower, with several showerheads sending heated water cascading over both of them, Kayla allowed him to minister to her body, going soft in a way she so rarely did outside the bedroom.

      This time, she stood stiffly at first and he was worried something had changed too much in their dynamic in the intervening six years between being lovers, not lovers and lovers again. She grabbed the luxurious natural loofah that came packaged new in both their bathrooms and put a spicy scented shower gel on it.

      But when she went to wash herself, Andreas tugged the loofa from her hand. “Let me.”

      She stubbornly clung to it, staring up at him, her gray gaze unreadable.

      “We will both enjoy our shower more if you allow me to wash you.”

      Her luscious lips twisted in an unhappy moue. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

      “Why be afraid?”

      “You would not understand.”

      It was she who did not understand. “There is nothing to fear here, Kayla. Trust me.”

      Their gazes locked, hers weighing his, and he felt his very soul was being weighed in the balance. Finally, she released the loofa, but the wary expression on her beautiful face bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

      Kayla had always trusted him. Why suddenly was she doubting his intentions?

      He washed her body with infinite care, not being overtly sexual, but incapable of being purely platonic either. He stopped using the loofa and soaped his own hands to wash/caress every inch of her. No question. Her body was everything tempting to him.

      It always had been, but now that he’d tasted her skin again, had lain between her legs and known the ultimate pleasure, there was no way he would ever look at her again without feeling at least a tinge of desire. He didn’t know how he’d managed the platonic relationship for six years, looking back on it.

      When she gave a breathy little gasp and sagged against his body, he didn’t even try not to touch her intimately. She wanted more pleasure, it was in the very air around them. He could do nothing but give it to her.

      He pulled her against him, nestling her bottom against his renewed erection, and cupped her generous curves. СКАЧАТЬ