Millionaire's Calculated Baby Bid

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Lucca Elliott, my sweet baby boy…

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

One hour ago Mary had expected to lie back on the king-size bed in the most exclusive bed-and-breakfast in Long Lake, Minnesota, and let Ethan Curtis make love to her, with no emotion, zero response from her body. At that very same time, she’d wondered if he’d be rough, cold, like the unfeeling bastard she’d met in her family’s former offices a week ago—the offices he now controlled and ran like a well-oiled, profit-gouging, soul-sucking machine.

His mouth moved over hers, slowly, seductively coaxing her back to the present. Every time his skin brushed against hers, every time his teeth raked lightly over her neck or back or shoulder, she mewled so loudly with desire she was sure the entire inn heard her and knew exactly what she was doing.

Ethan Curtis might’ve been a bastard, but he was anything but cold.

Moonlight spilled into the room, making it impossible not to see Ethan’s face as he pushed into her again, his cut cheekbones, hard mouth, and tanned neck taut with exertion and damp with sweat. His cobalt gaze slipped from her eyes to her mouth, and he lowered his head. Mary’s heart hammered in her chest as she tried to force back the rush of desire in her blood when his full mouth found hers and nuzzled her lips open.

The reality of why they were here in bed together, so that her father was now free from any threat of prison, scratched at the door of her mind. She wished she could crawl out from underneath Ethan and leave the room, but her body continued to betray her. Maybe it was because she hadn’t been with a man in two years. Maybe she just craved the weight and the closeness and the surge of adrenaline, but she wanted this man so badly she ached with it.

Ethan drifted lazily from her mouth to her cheek, then to her ear. She felt the tip of his tongue against her lobe and shivered, her back arching, her hips arching, her body taking him deeper. Her ears were surprisingly sensitive, and she hated that he knew it, that he was having this power over her—yet loved it at the same time. His tongue flicked back and forth as though he were tending to more than just the lobe of her ear, and she trembled again with sudden spasms she couldn’t control. Outside their door, she heard voices, heavy footfall in the hallway, then a door closing. Had they heard her as she moaned with desire, her body begging him for more?

The urge to touch Ethan, grab his lower back and buttocks, sink her fingers and nails into his muscular flesh was almost overwhelming and she fisted the sheets at her sides. It was the one thing she’d promised herself—not to touch him. But the pledge was hurting her far more than it was hurting him, she imagined. His tanned, thickly muscled chest and shoulders had erotic voices of their own and were calling to her as he rose for a moment, then settled back against her breasts.

How could you sleep with a man like this? she heard herself say, though the only sound her throat produced was a deep moan of satisfaction as he lowered his head to her breast and suckled deeply on one hard, pink nipple. How could you desire a man like this?

He’s a demon.

Shuddering with the electric heat, she wrapped her legs around him and arched her back, pumping her hips furiously. She was close, so close. It had been two incredibly quiet years since she’d been with a man she’d dated for only a few months, two long years since she’d faked release before breaking it off and wandering back into hermit territory and remaining there as the eternal businesswoman. She’d felt the real charge of climax only in her dreams—those dreams of faceless strangers pleasuring her body until she woke up sweaty and frustrated. But there was no faking anything tonight.

Again her thoughts were seized and cast aside by Ethan’s touch. He slipped his hand between them, his fingers inching downward until he combed through the pale curls between her spread thighs. As he stroked her, flicked the tender, aching bud, Mary gulped for air. She didn’t want to give in to him. He didn’t deserve her desire, her complete and utter surrender. But her head fell back anyway as the heat of his hand and the skill of his fingers took her over the edge. She knew how loudly she cried out as he played her, as he sank deeper, but she didn’t care. Wounded, desperate and totally unaware of time, she clawed at the white sheets, pretending they were his skin.

Ethan watched her, his gaze feral yet brushed with uncharacteristic concern. Then with a growl of hunger, he pushed deeply inside her, his rhythm steady, his breathing anything but. The force of his release made him shake, made his body hard as iron, and when he dropped gently on top of her, he buried his head in the damp curve of her neck.