Baby, ASAP - A Billionaire Buys a Baby Romance (Babies for the Billionaire Book 3)

by Layla Valentine

  “Good,” I breathed, relieved. “Do you have other conditions?”

  “Yes,” she began, but she hesitated slightly. “I never want to be cut out of the child’s life, for any reason. If a time comes when one of us has to move out of the house for any reason, if we ever find that we simply cannot thrive under the same roof, I want your promise that I will be just as involved with our child as I ever was.”

  “Absolutely,” I agreed. “But I do believe that Dane Park is more than large enough to house any spat, no matter how severe.”

  She chuckled at that, and the gentle warmth of it soothed away the remaining pangs of my remembered hurt. I was grateful for that, though she couldn’t have known what she was doing to me simply by existing.

  “That being said, I will be an equal parent. I refuse to allow my child to grow up with an absent father.” It came out with more intensity than I had intended, and she gave me a curious look. “We learn from our parents’ mistakes,” I added, softening my outburst with a smile. “What are your remaining conditions?”

  She pursed her lips thoughtfully for a moment, pushing them out in a way that made me ache to kiss them. “I’m pretty sure that covers everything.”

  I raised my eyebrows, surprised. “Nothing for yourself?” I asked.

  “There’s only one thing I want,” she murmured with a fierceness that made me question the validity of her statement. “A child of my own, well provided for, and loved. Nothing else matters to me.”

  She wouldn’t meet my eye as she spoke. I determined that it would be my own personal quest to discover what other wants laid beyond her empty womb—a duty I looked forward to with great pleasure.

  She looked up at me sharply. “You must have some conditions of your own, Mr.— Jonathan.”

  She was tense. My mother had ensured that my education included a complete and thorough analysis of Shakespeare’s works. In that moment, for the first time in my life, I wished she hadn’t. I suddenly found myself playing the part of the villainous husband who tamed his shrew, an image I saw reflected in her eyes.

  “More of an understanding,” I explained. “As far as I am concerned, your part in this is to make public appearances with me as the pretty half of a happy couple, to raise my child, to flirt with the media on my behalf. I need you to soften the harsh edges of my image. I do not, however, expect you to engage in a romance with me against your will.

  “You will not be expected to perform wifely duties outside of running the house and caring for the child. The house virtually runs on its own; the people who work for me there have been with the family for decades, but I digress. You are to maintain your own autonomy, while raising a child with me and supporting my family-friendly image in public. Those are my conditions.”

  She slid her fork slowly into a plump olive, and I could almost see the thoughts tumbling over in her mind. Flashes of various emotions crossed her expression, one after the other—contentment, annoyance, a moment of sadness quickly followed by a soft elation.

  I wanted to read her mind; more, I wanted her to talk to me about these feelings.

  Chapter 9

  Kaley

  “I can agree to that,” I said, though I could feel the romantic dreamer in me wither and die. “I can put on a good public face. I think if we keep the communication open, we can grow to be…” I struggled with the words I didn’t want to say, “…compatible partners in this venture.”

  “Yes,” he said thoughtfully, running a finger over the short, black stubble on his cheek. “Yes, I think we will.”

  I couldn’t read his face, and it infuriated me. The whole thing was so cold, so clinical; we were talking about a lifetime of shared love with a person who didn’t even exist yet, and it was all too damned orderly. He confused me, with the way he would flick back and forth from deep passion to cold neutrality, from insisting that the child be loved to negotiating with me like a businessman.

  Just what on earth was he really up to, anyway?

  “So, you will do it?” he asked, startling me.

  “Yes,” I said before I could change my mind. “Yes, I’ll do it.”

  “Wonderful.” He smiled, and this one seemed different from so many others. It was more spontaneous, less practiced. I hoped that I was getting a glimpse into the real Jonathan Dane, but decided that it was more likely the wine getting me to see something that wasn’t there.

  “Now for the practical details,” he said, sliding seamlessly back into business mode. “For the conception itself, what is your preferred method?”

  “What?” I asked, taken aback.

  “Would you prefer a natural conception, or a clinical one?”

  My heart leapt into my throat as heat spread through my loins. This was the question that had been haunting me for days, waking me up in the middle of the night soaked in sweat and aching for release.

  His hand rested on the table so near mine, and I felt like I should touch it. No, we couldn’t begin our pretend relationship this way. The touches had to be spontaneous and natural. We had to break through the barrier.

  I downed the rest of my wine in a single gulp.

  “Natural,” I said decisively. “It should be natural.”

  A glint flickered in his eye, and there was a wicked twist to his lips.

  Was this his plan all along? I wondered. Was all of this just a set-up to get me into bed? What if he’s sterile? What if…no, I could do that all night. The decision had been made, the deal was struck. We were going to have a baby, and we were going to do it the way nature intended. Sweaty and dirty and utterly biological.

  I wriggled against the seat, biting my lip without really meaning to. I wanted him.

  “I agree,” he said, his voice low and warm, an almost animalistic growl.

  “Jonathan,” I struggled with his name, struggled to attach the friendly given name to the intimidating CEO. “Now.”

  He raised one eyebrow as a cocky grin spread across his face. “Right now?” he asked, moving his hand to brush his thumb over my knuckles.

  “Sooner is better than later, isn’t it?” I asked, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

  His eyes were molten platinum in the candlelight, burning through to my soul. He chuckled softly and called for Gregorio. Settling the check seemed to take half an eternity, and by the time it was done, I was ready to tear off his clothes in the parking lot.

  I resisted, barely.

  “My place or—”

  “Yours,” I interrupted him. Nothing would kill the rich man’s mood faster than seeing my grubby apartment, I was sure of it.

  He laughed as the car roared to life, and shattered the speed limit as the sleek little coupe zipped in and out of traffic as though the other cars were standing still. The reckless power stirred my blood, had me bunching my dress up in a shaky fist while my other hand gripped his seat, inches from his broad shoulders.

  He took a different road to his house than his driver had the week before, and we pulled up in the circular driveway before the tall, intimidating front of the mansion. I barely noticed it. His scent was clouding my brain, his nearness making me tingle.

  I pushed out of the car without waiting for him to open my door, and he grabbed my hand. Laughing, he pulled me up the marble steps, between the stately pillars, through the heavy wooden door. There were no other people to be seen, though I knew that the staff must be around somewhere. I didn’t bother to ask.

  As soon as the door closed behind us, he whirled, pushing me into it.

  I barely had time to gasp before his mouth came down on mine, crushing, searching, demanding. I parted my lips for him and he groaned, pressing his body hard against mine, sandwiching me between himself and the door. I could feel his arousal pressing hard against my hip and I ground against it, silently begging him for it.

  With sharp breaths and quick fingers, he released himself, then slid his hands up my thighs, under my dress. A moan bubbled out of my throat as he hooked his thumbs over
the lacy hem of my thong and slid the final silky barrier down away from my hot, eager center.

  He stopped as the bit of fabric floated to the floor around my ankles, and held my face in his hands.

  “Are you sure?” he murmured, his voice husky and raw with need.

  I met his dark, shimmering eyes boldly, no longer able to stifle my attraction.

  “Put a baby in me,” I demanded, my own voice sounding strange in my ears.

  He made a sound which was half chuckle, half groan, and lifted me up by my hips to slam me once more into the door. It didn’t hurt, but it could have; for some reason, that only increased my desperate need.

  Satin smooth, hard as gold, he slid his manhood up my thigh. Writhing, I pulled him closer, my fists wrinkling his expensive lapels. He was a tease, a dirty tease, and he was going to kill me if he didn’t get inside me soon.

  “Now, Jonathan!” I pleaded.

  In the next instant, he was inside of me, fuller and deeper than any man I’d ever had before. When he began to move, I cried out, a mixture of pleasure and pain. He froze, looking at me worriedly.

  “Don’t stop,” I begged him. “Please don’t stop.”

  Growling, his mouth fell on my throat, his lips exploring as his hips drove the point home. His hands caressed me where they held me, igniting my body, igniting my very soul.

  He was too much—too big, too powerful, too lustful, everything I had imagined and more—and within moments, I cascaded, screaming, over the edge into orgasmic bliss. His own growls changed pitch, growing more wild and desperate with every passing second that I pulsed around him.

  Again, the blissful release rippled through my body as he tensed and throbbed within me, and we locked in simultaneous nirvana.

  “I’m sorry,” he breathed, resting his forehead on the door behind my shoulder. “It’s been—”

  “For me too,” I cut him off, reassuring him. “It’s okay.”

  He pulled back and let me slide gently to the floor. “Was it the best you’ve ever had?” he asked suspiciously.

  I looked away, my expression saying more than words ever could.

  “I’m a competitive man, Kaley. Comes with the job title. Follow me.”

  He grabbed my hands, and I flew on a cloud up the stairs to the second floor, registering a vague impression of white statues dotted along the wine-red and gold hallway upstairs. He flung open a door and pulled me through, then closed and locked it behind us. My mouth fell open in shock.

  “I’ve never seen a bed that big!” I gasped.

  “The better to lay you, my dear,” he growled, pressing up against my back as he nibbled my ear.

  His hands wandered over my hips, pressing on the ball of heat low in my belly. I melted against him, somehow comfortable and desperately uncomfortable all at once.

  As if reading my mind, he slowly slid my dress up, over my body, touching every inch he could get his hands on. He threw it to the floor, and the bra followed.

  Feeling a bit foolish, I stepped out of my shoes and caught a glimpse of myself in the large mirrored cabinet on the wall.

  It was surreal. There I was, naked in a bedroom twice the size of my apartment, getting felt up by the CEO. A giggle burst out before I could suppress it, and he turned me in his arms to gaze into my eyes.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “I’m pretty sure I’m dreaming,” I said between gasping breaths.

  “Yeah?” he murmured, his voice a husky demand, as he walked me backwards toward the bed. “What makes you say that?”

  “You don’t understand,” I said, shaking my head as I pushed his jacket off of his shoulders. “This is your world. You’re at home here.”

  He kissed me as I loosened his tie, then broke the touch as I slipped it over his head.

  “I can’t believe half of what I’m seeing. This place, you…the way your hair looks so sexy when it’s messy…I’ve never seen this side of you before.” In blissful fascination, I twirled one of his errant locks around my finger.

  “There’s a lot you haven’t seen,” he whispered in my ear as he removed his shirt. “I can show you the world.”

  Those words brought a whole new calamity of giggles, and he shoved me hard onto the bed, towering over me at half-mast, a scowl on his sex-flushed face.

  “What the devil is so funny?” he demanded.

  “It’s not actually funny,” I desperately tried to explain. “It’s just so…it’s so surreal. I can’t believe I’m actually here; I’m giddy!”

  He paused for a moment, then cocked his head in an understanding shrug.

  “Giddy I can work with,” he murmured.

  Without warning, he jumped onto the bed, knocking me backwards. Then, his lips, God, those wonderful lips, were locked onto mine once more. His hands, free to roam, did so with wild abandon, tracing every curve and dimple over the whole of my body.

  Every nerve ending stood at attention, allowing waves upon waves of pleasure to roll over me as he began to follow the path of his hands with hot, passionate kisses. I had never in my life been so ready so quickly, but when his lips moved over the low curve of my belly, I was aching once more.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured as his lips found the hidden pearl of pleasure.

  Gasping, I pressed into him. His mouth was as satisfying as the rest of him, pulling me closer to the edge with every undulating kiss, lapping against me like the waves of the ocean as I bucked and writhed on his bed.

  Barriers broken, I tangled my fingers in his hair, holding him still as I screamed out his name, my quivering bliss pressed firmly against his talented tongue.

  “Yes,” he growled as I released him, crawling over me. “Yes, that’s what I want to hear.”

  He was inside me, then, and I locked my legs around him, sanity lost to the wind as I silently swore to never let him go. He filled me, pressed me to my limits and farther, forced me to conform to his size with powerful, blindingly erotic thrusts.

  Without conscious thought, I began to kiss him—his mouth, collar bone, chest, bulging bicep, anywhere I could reach. He yanked my head back by my hair and plunged his mouth onto mine as he moved inside me, taking everything he could touch and claiming it for his own.

  I didn’t mind. As far as I was concerned, in that moment, I was his alone. The heat started in my toes, making them curl, moved up my calves and thighs, spread to my belly and breasts, clouded my head, then shot back down.

  His face changed from suave lover to out-of-control sex machine as I began to tighten and pulse. He held my head between his hands, staring into my eyes as I came around him, losing focus as my ecstasy drew out his own. In an intensely intimate moment, our voices harmonized in exquisite release.

  My eyelids grew heavy with afterglow, and he dropped his head on my shoulder, basking in the last quivers of orgasmic pleasure from my sated center.

  Chapter 10

  Kaley

  I dreamed of a ship made of sunlight, sailing through the clouds; I dreamed I was wrapped within the warm embrace of a faceless god. The air smelled of flowers, and the breeze sounded like babies sighing in happy unison.

  As the dream faded, the sensations remained. With a shock, I realized that I was cradled in Jonathan’s arms, nestled securely against his chest, my legs tangled with his. Through the towering windows before me, I watched the sun burn the morning mist off of the luscious gardens below.

  I should do something, I thought. Get up, go home, get some breakfast. With a gasp, I sought the clock—ten to seven.

  Sighing relief, I relaxed against his warm nakedness once more. My panic roused him, though, and he shifted slightly against me.

  “We will need to do that several more times over the next month or so,” he mumbled through lips pressed against my shoulder.

  “Yes,” I agreed, arching against him ever so slightly. “We wouldn’t want to miss me ovulating…it could happen any day.” His scent was all over me, driving me mad. My body ached
for him, and I realized belatedly that my hands and feet were one step ahead of me, caressing his muscular form. “It could even happen today.”

  “Well, we certainly can’t risk that,” he said, dropping kisses along my shoulder.

  I turned my head to meet his mouth as his large, strong hand skimmed over my breast. Gasping, I pressed my hips back against him. Taking the invitation, he slid inside with ease. The ecstasy had no painful edge this morning, only sheer and utter pleasure.

  He moved slowly in his sleepy haze, and I matched his rhythm seamlessly. He couldn’t seem to get enough of my skin, exploring me with hands and mouth, discovering each hidden pleasure, mapping my body with his touch. Heat built in my belly, and I needed more than the lazy strokes of dream-clouded sex.

  “Lie back,” I told him gently as I slid away.

  He did as he was told, which sent a pleasing wave of power through my mind. I sat astride him, rocking my hips as his hands moved over my body. He could sense my electricity, and he followed it, with a firm but gentle hand on my throat, skimming down to my breasts, kneading and pinching in just the right way to make me push a little deeper, land a little lower, ride a little harder.

  His lazy fingers trailed down my belly, causing wet lust to drip around him; then, he pressed his thumb in just the right spot, holding it there, centering my lust where it would do the most good.

  “You’re so damn beautiful,” he told me, gazing into my eyes.

  It shattered me. I don’t know why—he’d said the same thing the night before—but somehow, this was different. Every molecule of my body and soul reached out to him, begged him to meld with me, and I took him deeper than I ever had before. I wanted more of him; I needed more of him.

  His skillful hands worked my body, sending shocks down my spine and my head whipping back as the powerful burst of pleasure ripped through me. I didn’t stop; I couldn’t. I wanted more of him; I wanted everything. Faster and faster I rode, peaking again and again, until, finally, he gripped my hips, each muscle tense and visible in his long torso, and, with several desperate thrusts, he filled me with his essence.