Inheriting His Secret Christmas Baby by Heidi Betts Page B

for that. But it was definitely going to complicate matters if the tests came back positive and he asserted his parental rights.
    And still he kissed her. A soft brushing of lips at first, followed by a firmer pressing.
    She felt exactly as he’d imagined she would—like rose petals or plush velvet. And she tasted even better. Like the Barbaresco they’d had with dinner—spicy and tart, but with an extra-sweet tang that was uniquely her own.
    Leaning in a few brief inches, he let his body rest against hers. From chest to thigh, they touched, heat swirling between them and sending their temperatures—or his, at any rate—skyrocketing.
    He brought his hands up, cupping her face and deepening the kiss. Running his tongue along the seam of her mouth, he urged her to open for him. When she did, he delved in, groaning at the explosion of sensation that rocked him.
    Why did this feel so good? So right?
    Haylie was not the first pretty girl he’d ever kissed. Far from it; he’d been with dozens—dare he say hundreds?—of women.
    She wasn’t even his type. Oh, he liked blondes well enough—as well as brunettes, redheads and everything in between. But where he normally didn’t give much thought to a woman’s hair one way or another, he had to admit that hers was spectacular, all honey highlights, like a ray of sunshine trapped inside a glass jar.
    She was tall enough, about five-five to his six foot two. Slightly shorter than his usual arm candy preferences, but the top of her head came to his chin, which he thought was pretty much perfect. He liked looking down at her, and the idea of having her fit against him just right when he tucked her close.
    Her fuller, more rounded figure was also an unexpected turn-on. He was used to the stick-thin model sort…high heels, high hair and size-zero bodies squeezed into belts that doubled as dresses that barely covered their rear ends.
    And always before, that had gotten his motor running. Or maybe he’d simply had it in his head that those were the type of women he was supposed to be with—super-photogenic party girls who enjoyed being seen with a Jarrod heir almost as much as they enjoyed actually being with him as a man.
    But therein lay the difference: They were girls and Haylie was a woman.
    Haylie possessed none of the qualities he normally looked for in the opposite sex, yet he loved the feel of her soft curves pressed against his harder frame. Loved the way she looked and smelled and let him ravish her mouth without pulling away.
    Threading his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck, he let his other hand stroke down the side of her throat, the curve of her breast, her waist. Then he reached the hem of her shirt, tunneling beneath to touch warm, smooth skin. A low, primal groan rolled up from his diaphragm, and he leaned closer, deepening the kiss.
    This wasn’t what he’d intended when he’d first decided to taste her. He’d only wanted a tiny nibble, something to satisfy his curiosity and maybe put her a little off guard.
    Instead, it felt as though a brushfire had broken out just under his skin. Pinpricks of heat and sensation that urged him to keep going.
    Forget about the just a taste thing. Forget about a quick kiss to assuage his interest. He wanted to lift her onto the counter right then and there and have his way with her. Wanted to pick her up and carry her upstairs to his bedroom where he could undress her slowly, lay her out on the satin sheets covering his king-size mattress and explore every inch of her luscious body. Slowly.
    He wondered what Haylie would think of the erotic images suddenly flitting through his mind. She certainly hadn’t pulled away when he’d told her he was going to kiss her. And since she still wasn’t resisting—was in fact kissing him back with a passion and fervor that had his blood heading due south at a rapid pace—he thought there was a chance she might be willing to act out a few of them.
    A scratchy, whimpering