Expecting the Boss's Baby by Leanne Banks Page B

too stunned to move. Seconds passed and Michael, naked, joined her. Sliding his hands over her shoulders, he pushed her under the spray.
    She shook her head. “What are you doing?” she demanded.
    “You were locking up,” he told her.
    “I hate the pretending,” she said, slowly taking in the strength and warmth of his body. Something real and warm on a day that had felt unreal and cold. Rivulets of water turned his muscular arms shiny and plastered the spray of chest hair downward. Her gaze traveled to his abdomen and further—to his hard thighs and potent masculinity. He was now her husband.
    “No more pretending.” He dipped his head toher chest and slid his tongue over the top of her breast.
    Kate shuddered and lifted her hands, needing to hold on to his shoulders. He looked down at her, water droplets clinging to his dark eyelashes. “Let’s seal the deal,” he said, his sensual tone at odds with the businesslike words. He took her mouth in an endless claiming kiss as the water showered down on them.
    Her nipples glanced his chest and she was all too aware of the swollen bulge against her abdomen. Kate’s temperature suddenly shot up. She needed the end of pretending. She wanted to feel.
    He continued to eat at her mouth while his fingers traveled with abandon over her slippery skin. He touched her shoulders, then her breasts. He plucked at her tender nipples and skimmed his hands down to her abdomen, rubbing as if her pregnancy was already showing. Then he moved his hands lower between her thighs, caressing and pleasuring her with his fingers.
    A flush of heat stole over her body at the sensations he created. He made her want so much, ache so powerfully. She kissed him with the same urgency he created inside her. Her hands grew restless and she savored the sensation of the wet skin of his chest and abdomen, and lower.
    He gave a rough growl of approval that rippled throughout her nerve endings. “I want you in every way,” he said and moved his mouth downher body. As if he’d been denied too long, he consumed her. He took her breast in his mouth, suckled her hardened nipple, and she sensed he couldn’t get enough. He treated her other breast to the same carnal pleasure, then skimmed his tongue down her abdomen.
    Kate held her breath in suspended anticipation as she felt his seductive tongue trace a path of liquid fire over her skin. Dropping to a knee, he rubbed his cheek against her tummy and thigh, and took her intimately with his mouth. He stroked her sensitive, swollen femininity with his wicked tongue, taking her over the edge until her knees began to buckle.
    Michael caught her before she fell, slowly rising up her body at the same time that he moved his hands up her legs to her waist. His eyes dark with primitive need, he pressed her back against the cool tile of the shower wall. “Hang on,” he said and urged her legs around his waist.
    His gaze holding her and claiming her with the same insistence as his body, he eased her down on his hardness with a slow, sure thrust.
    Everything about him, his body, his gaze, said you are mine. “Oh, Kate,” he muttered. “You feel so good.”
    Sucking in a deep breath, he pumped inside her, erotically massaging her femininity with each stroke. Kate felt the rush of her climax like a landslide roaring through her. She stiffened, clenching around him.
    He swore and through the haze of her own peak, she watched his pleasure roll through him. Still holding her tightly, he dipped his head against her shoulder and glanced her bare skin with a kiss.
    “Does it feel more real now?” he whispered.
    Kate curled her arms around him, inhaling his essence. “Yes.”
     
    Two hours later, Kate awakened to the sight of Michael sleeping beside her. She knew it was an unusual sight, because he found the need for sleep a nuisance more than anything else.
    Her husband, she thought, and felt her heart race. Waking up to Michael Hawkins was like waking up to a powerful,