Bought by a Millionaire (11 page)

She opened her mouth to refuse—the less time she spent with him, the better—but he cut her off.

“Humor me, will you, please?” His mouth pulled into a flat, displeasurable line as he held his hand out to her. “You won't stay with me, you won't come home with me, you won't even let me touch you. For the love of God, let me drive you home.”

She couldn't decide whether he sounded angry or hurt. Perhaps a mix of both. But she didn't suppose a short ride in his limousine would pose too much danger. His driver would be there, and she could always sit on the opposite seat three feet away.

Her only response was a curt nod before brushing past him and out the exam room door. With a hand on the small of her spine, he guided her through the reception area to the waiting car. His driver jumped from the front seat as soon as he saw them and rushed to open the rear door. Burke
handed her into the warm interior, then told Davis they wanted to be taken to her apartment building before sliding in next to her.

As hard as it was not to reach over, snake an arm around her waist and drag her onto his lap, Burke kept his distance. She was tense enough already, holding herself so rigid on the other side of the bench seat that if they hit a pothole, she would likely snap in two.

She huddled inside her long wool coat, even though the heat was on, pumping toasty warmth through the interior of the car. She wore low-heeled half boots in deference to the wet and dreary weather of fall rolling into winter, leaving her shapely legs visible to his hungry gaze.

“How have you been feeling?” he asked, hoping to break the uncomfortable silence wavering between them.

“Fine,” she responded without bothering to look at him.

Her tone was perfectly polite, but he didn't want politeness from her, dammit. He wanted passion. Anger, hurt, hysterics…anything resembling an emotion to show him that their time together, their one night of making love, hadn't been meaningless.

It sure as hell had meant something to him. He wasn't sure what just yet, but he knew that on a scale of one to ten, the need for Shannon in his life was well into the double digits.

“No more morning sickness?” he pressed.

She glanced at him, finally, her mossy green eyes showing equal degrees of doubt and wariness. “Not much. I still get a little nauseous once in a while, but for the most part, I think it's passed.”

“Good, I'm glad.” Silence filled the air as the seconds ticked by and he strove for something else to say. “Do you need anything? Money, vitamins, maternity clothes?”

Her mouth turned down in a frown and he could have
kicked himself for making their relationship sound like a financial arrangement.

It was beyond that now. Far beyond.

But how could he convince her of that if she barely even talked to him?

“No,” she said, a thin layer of ice in her voice, “I have everything I need.”

“I'm sorry,” he offered, quickly and sincerely. “I didn't mean that to sound like you couldn't take care of yourself and the baby. I'm just…I'm concerned about you, Shannon. I miss you.”

He watched her chest hitch as his words worked their way through her stunned brain, and barreled ahead before he either lost his courage or she retreated once again inside her shell.

“I don't like not seeing you. Not knowing how you're doing, what you're doing, whether or not you need anything.” He took a deep breath, blew it out. “That probably sounds like I'm out to control you or track your every move, which isn't my intention. But I have to admit that I would feel better if you moved back into my apartment. At least then I would see you every day, and if you
did
need anything, I would be there to see that you got it.”

“We've discussed this before, Burke.” Her eyes darkened, a hint of sadness floating in their depths. “I can't stay with you. I shouldn't even be seen with you at Dr. Cox's office, for fear someone will figure out what's going on and make both our lives miserable.”

The limousine slowed to a stop at the curb outside her apartment building, and Burke bit the inside of his lip to keep from arguing with her further. He'd learned about Shannon's stubborn streak the hard way, and pushing her in the direction he wanted her to go would probably only cause her to dig in her heels twice as hard.

Davis came around to open her door, and Burke slid across the seat to exit after her. He expected her to pull away when he put his hand on her arm, but she simply hitched her over-large purse higher on her shoulder and started forward with him at her side.

Her door was the only dark, hardwood one on the floor. All the others were flimsy and painted the same stark white as the walls. But he'd made it clear, when he called and hired someone to replace the door he'd broken down, that Shannon was to have the safest, sturdiest and best that was available.

Shannon's key, he noticed, unlocked a dead bolt, and he gave a mental nod of approval. If she wouldn't come back to his place to stay, at least she would be a hell of a lot safer here than she had been.

Just inside the threshold, she turned, doing her best to block the entrance and keep him in the hall.

“Aren't you going to invite me in?” he asked in the most innocuous tone he could manage.

From the dip her heart took and the thin layer of perspiration breaking out between her breasts, she didn't think that would be very smart. But he was standing in her doorway, waiting for an answer and looking as if he intended to come in regardless of what that answer was.

She stepped back, tossing her bag on the nearby kitchen counter and beginning to unbutton her coat. Burke came in behind her, closing the door with a click.

“You shouldn't stay long,” she told him, hoping it would act as a warning to both him and herself. “Someone might see you leaving, if they didn't already see you walk me inside. And the limo outside will be a dead giveaway that someone important is here.”

“I told you before, I don't care about that.” He shrugged out of his long, camel hair coat and draped it over the back
of a chair with each spindle painted a different color of the rainbow.

“You should.”

Making a wide circle to get around him, she hung her coat on a peg beside the door, but didn't offer to do the same with his. When she turned, he was right there, blocking her path and so close she could feel the lapels of his expensive suit brushing the very tips of her breasts through her knit dress. He didn't touch her, but his eyes blazed like twin coals, raking her from head to toe, leaving her shaken, tiny paths of heat and desire rippling in his wake.

“Why should I care if people see us together? Why should I care what complete strangers think or say or print in their gossip rags?”

Shannon swallowed hard, trying not to let the razor-sharp slice of his words affect her the way they wanted to. “You're probably used to your picture popping up on the front page of newspapers and magazines every other week, but I'm certainly not. And you're not the only one who could be hurt by loose tongues. There's also the baby to think about.”

“I asked you to marry me,” he said, taking her hand and turning it upside down to stroke the palm with his thumb. “That would put an end to any rumors that might start to circulate.”

“You didn't ask me to marry you,” she corrected. She tugged at her arm, but he kept a tight hold on her hand and continued his dazzling caress. “You
told
me we should get married, but I don't think avoiding negative media attention is a logical reason for exchanging wedding vows.”

The silence in the room around them was deafening. The motion of his thumb halted and the gray of his eyes turned almost black.

She held her breath and realized almost painfully that she was waiting for him to make some dramatic declaration of
love. If he cared for her, if he'd mentioned even once that he had feelings for her and wanted to marry her for more than to just protect her and the baby from the media, then she might have considered it.

But as the seconds ticked by and his expression grew more taut, she knew that wasn't even a possibility.

Finally, the thin thread of tension that seemed to string between them snapped and Burke's other hand lifted to cup her cheek.

“There are better reasons for the two of us to get married than just avoiding the press.”

Shannon's heart stuttered with one last vestige of hope.

“You have to admit we're good together,” he continued. “I like you, Shannon. I like spending time with you, like knowing you're in the next room or no more than a phone call away. And I think you like me, too.”

His hand slid from her cheek to her temple, fingers combing through the long tangle of her hair. The heat of his touch seeped into her skin and spread outward through the rest of her body.

She felt lulled. Warm and safe and content. And she very much wanted to lean into him, let him envelop her with his arms and confidence and masculinity.

It would be so easy.

But it wouldn't solve anything.

When his head bent forward and his lips grazed the side of her neck, she let her eyes drift closed. She thought about pushing him away, knew it would be the wise thing to do. The blood in her veins felt like motor oil, though, circulating so slowly; none of it was reaching her brain. This might not solve a single problem between them, but at the moment, she couldn't find it in her to care.

She swayed against him, a low sigh rolling its way up her
throat. His mouth moved to the hollow behind her ear, his warm breath tickling, sending shivers of awareness all the way to the tips of her toes. She rose up to meet him halfway, her nails curling into his shoulders as his lips found hers.

She'd missed this. Missed him.

Their one night together had been the most sensual and satisfying she'd ever experienced. It might also have been the single happiest moment of her life.

Being in his arms was like slipping into a hot, deep bubble bath. Few things compared, especially when most days she ended up jumping in the shower ten minutes before she was supposed to be at work or class.

Burke was like that—a luxury, an extravagance. Something she was certainly not used to and didn't see becoming a permanent fixture in her life.

She wished they had more in common, that they had a future together beyond the birth of the child she was carrying. But even if a cheese-and-cracker girl could make a space for herself in a caviar boy's world, it wouldn't change the fact that Burke didn't love her.

He was a man wealthy enough to give her everything her heart desired. Unfortunately, her heart's desire wasn't something money could buy.

She wanted him.

She loved him, desperately, but doubted he felt the same. She didn't think the word love had ever crossed his mind.

Even without the baby inside her, working to braid the invisible bond between them, she would have fallen in love with him. She'd have fought it—
had
fought it, for as long as possible—but the end result was inevitable.

And she couldn't find it in her heart to be the least bit sorry about answering his ad for a surrogate mother in the first place. She never would have gotten the opportunity to meet
him otherwise, and she considered her brief time with Burke one of the most special of her life.

His kiss was intoxicating, drawing her in. His tongue stroked and prodded and demanded a response from her own. Their breaths mingled, their chests rising and falling against each other as the sensations swept them away.

Making love would only complicate an already hopeless situation, but she honestly didn't care. For now, she just wanted to feel. She wanted to be with him, touch him, love him one last time.

W
rapping her arms more tightly about his neck, she leaned into him and gave herself up to the temptation that licked at her insides. The temptation that was Burke Bishop, drawing her like a moth to a flame.

In one smooth, swift motion, he released her mouth and dipped down to catch the backs of her knees with his arm. Scooping her off her feet, he carried her to the narrow bed against the far wall and sat her on the very edge while he took a step back and began to remove his well-tailored suit.

For a minute, she just watched him. Muscles rippled beneath the expensive fabric, making her mouth water. Arms, chest, thighs… He had the body of an athlete, a Greek god. All the Greek gods rolled together.

And he was hers. For today, for the next hour, for this brief moment in time, he belonged to her.

Burke kicked off his shoes, tossed aside his suit jacket, and
was starting on the buttons of his crisp white shirt when Shannon stood up and took the single step that brought her flush with his towering frame. She covered his hands with her own and finished the job, running her fingers inside and around the tapered line of his waist.

He sucked in a breath, his torso tightening to show off a set of very attractive abs. A small smile touched her lips and she raked her nails across his stomach like a jungle cat, just to see his reaction.

It was worth it. His lips pulled back from his clenched teeth and he growled.

He tried to stop the progress of her roaming hands, but she pressed on, running them over his smooth pectorals, up to his shoulders, down the length of his sinewy arms, taking his shirt with her.

The shirt hung from his wrists and by its tails in the waistband of his pants. She quickly undid the buttons at his cuffs, releasing his arms completely. And then she moved to his belt. Sliding the leather through the gold buckle, pulling back to release the hook. Her fingers delved inside, tickling his navel and the trail of short, rough hair…down, down, down.

She both heard and saw the hitch of his chest, and knew it matched her own shallow, panting breaths. He kept his arms at his sides, though his fists continued to clench and unclench in time with the rise and fall of his diaphragm.

Her mouth touched the taut column of his collarbone, her tongue darting out to wet his heated flesh. She was surprised steam didn't rise into the air at the contact.

She traced kisses everywhere her lips reached. His shoulder, the pulse at his throat, the slope of his chest leading to the dark circle of his nipple.

While she licked the tiny nub, turning it hard and making Burke groan deep in his throat, she also worked to open the
front of his pants. She snicked loose the top clasp before lowering the zipper, revealing the stark white of his briefs straining to contain his burgeoning erection.

Her fingers slipped inside the open flaps of his slacks, cupping him through the thin cotton. He pulsed hot and hard against her palm, and a shudder washed through him when she gently squeezed.

“Stop.” The word croaked from his throat and his fingers closed around her wrist like a vice. “I can't take much more. Keep that up, and we'll both be disappointed.”

“We wouldn't want that, now would we?”

For the first time in as long as she could remember, Shannon felt powerful. Wildly wanton, to be sure, but also wildly powerful.

This man, who was tall and solid and handsome as sin…who bought and sold multimillion dollar properties on a daily basis…who was considered Chicago's most eligible bachelor…was putty in her hands. He trembled before her, pleading with her to stop even as his body begged her to continue.

The first time they'd made love, he had been the one to call the shots. He'd played her like a violin, bringing her to crescendo after crescendo in perfect pitch before he was finished.

Now it was her turn. She wanted to be the conductor, directing his responses and driving him over the edge. Or at least darn close to it.

Releasing his turgid arousal, she pressed a kiss just above his navel while her hands dipped into the waistband of both his dress pants and underwear. With aggravating slowness, she pushed the clothing past his hips, down his well-muscled thighs and calves.

Her breath blew cool on his skin as she knelt before him, waiting for him to lift one foot and then the other. As soon as he was free of the slacks, she tossed them aside.

Smiling up at him, she wrapped her fingers around his ankles, then proceeded to run her hands along the length of his strong, well-defined legs. The short, rough hairs tickled her palms as slowly, so very slowly, she traced the curve of his calves, the dip at the back of his knees, his thighs, quivering at her touch.

When she reached his buttocks and raked the tight globes with her nails, she was rewarded with the low, long hiss of air through his teeth and the instant collapse of his diaphragm as he inhaled sharply.

“So sensitive,” she teased, letting her cheek brush ever so softly against the very tip of his swollen length. “You might want to hold on to something. It's about to get much…harder.”

He took a single step to part his legs even farther, as though bracing himself for what was to come. And then his hands ran over her hair, from the faux antique gold comb at the top of her head to the spiraled ends, and came to rest on her shoulders. He flexed his grip once in the knit of her sweater before going still, waiting for her to make her next move.

She'd never cared about a man enough to be this intimate with him. Although her experience was limited, always before sex had been about mutual pleasure, in the simplest of terms. But with Burke, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to kneel before him, almost in worship of his amazing masculinity.

She wanted to touch him with her hands and her mouth, her body and her spirit. And in doing so, she hoped that a small part of him might open to her. That he would see her as more than merely a lover. Realize she meant more to him than a bed partner or surrogate mother for his child. Deep inside, she hoped he might love her a little and be willing to admit it.

If not…if not, the thin membrane surrounding her heart would chill and turn to ice, freezing her from the inside out. She would never love again, or another.

Of course, if she couldn't have Burke, she didn't
want
to ever love another.

But she wouldn't think about that now. Not while she had him at her mercy.

With her hands spanning his hips, making soft circle eights with the pads of her thumbs, she parted her lips and took him into her mouth. She took her time, licking, sucking gently, circling the tip with her tongue.

It didn't take long for Burke to reach the breaking point. Her mouth on him, her hands on him, staring at the top of her head while she drove him to the brink of madness. Him naked as the day he was born, her still fully clothed.

He'd never been so moved—or so aroused. So humbled by or protective of any woman he'd been with.

But then, he already knew Shannon wasn't like other women. She was smart and independent and had crawled her way into his life and his mind without his even realizing it.

He couldn't let her go now. He couldn't.

But how the hell did he convince her to stay?

For a moment, his brain processed the problem, running through half a dozen scenarios that might keep her with him. That was, until Shannon grazed his sensitive flesh with her teeth and sent his mind spiraling into oblivion.

Bright, tiny stars in silver and gold flashed behind his closed eyelids. His fingers curled into her shoulders a split second before he pulled her away, put a halt to her erotic ministrations before he lost control and missed the chance to return the favor.

Tilting her face back, she gazed at him with a question in her sea-green eyes, her fingertips still burning like embers on his flesh.

“I want you with me,” he rasped out, knowing that sim
ple statement encompassed much more than the sheer act of passion between them. He wanted to say more, tell her his most private thoughts, make promises he wasn't certain he could keep.

Instead, he slid his hands inside the cute little beaded sweater that matched her khaki dress and pushed the material over her arms until it slipped free of her wrists and drifted to the floor. Cupping her elbows, he lifted her to her feet.

Snagging the hem of the dress, he turned the garment inside out as he swept it up the lithe length of her body and off over her head. Both pieces lay in a heap on the floor, leaving her in nothing more than a black satin bra and tiny slip of lace that passed as panties.

He couldn't wait any longer to taste her, to fill his hands with her soft skin and lush curves. Fusing his mouth to hers, he walked her backwards toward the waiting bed.

The mattress was small, only a third the width of his own and half the size of the one in his penthouse guest room. But it would do. With Shannon, a dirty old Army cot would do. Or the bare floor, if nothing else was available. Lucky for both of them, he had the means to provide better.

If he had his way, he would make love to her on a bed as big as Barbados and as soft as a cloud every night for the rest of his life. On silken sheets colored the green of her eyes or the red of her copper curls, with freshly plucked rose petals sprinkled beneath her supple, blissfully bare body.

For now, however, their choices were limited, and her narrow mattress looked every bit as inviting as the finest bedroom suite at the Four Seasons or the Taj Mahal.

He tossed aside the thick layer of blankets and homemade afghans and laid her across the crisp, pastel yellow sheets. Following her down, he propped himself to one side on an elbow, careful not to crush the swell of her belly between them.

He skimmed a hand over that bulge where their child slept, marveling again at the miracle of creating a new life. The miracle Shannon had made possible for him.

And then he dipped his fingers into the elastic of her panties and began to snake them past her hips. With the scrap of lace discarded, he moved to her bra, reaching behind her to undo the single clasp.

The perfect round globes of her breasts, slightly larger due to her pregnancy, spilled out. They filled his hands and sent currents of electricity skating along his palms. He flicked her nipples, teasing them into ready awareness. Puckered and tight, they beaded like cherries on top of two particularly delectable ice-cream sundaes.

Hair spilled across the pale pillow like a red-gold halo, she arched into him, letting her eyes drift closed and moaning in pleasure. Burke's erection twitched at the sight, growing and pulsing and begging to be buried inside her.

Leaving one hand where it was to toy with her breast, he started nipping at her jawline with his mouth. She tasted like heaven—soft, sweet and feminine—which mixed with the flowery scent of her shampoo and made him wish he could lick every inch of her delectable body from head to toe.

Unfortunately, he didn't possess even a fraction of the self-control that would take. She felt like molten lava in his arms, and all he wanted to do was sink into her, melt into her, remain there forever.

He trailed sucking little kisses over her neck and face until he reached her lips. At the same time, he insinuated his free hand between her thighs, parting her silken folds and filling her with a single finger.

Shannon gasped, her hips flying off the mattress, forcing his finger even deeper. “Burke,” she cried out breathlessly.

“You're so wet,” he grated, clenching his teeth to keep
from rolling on top of her and pounding his way to ecstasy. “Hot and wet and gorgeous.”

He stroked a few loose curls away from her face and stared down into emerald eyes that were wide open now, clouded with desire. “You should see how beautiful you are, lying there like some fairy princess. I'm making love to the most magnificent woman in the world.”

Shannon felt emotions prickle behind her eyes and moisture gather near her lashes. She fought like crazy not to blink, afraid her tears would spill over if she did.

Was it any wonder she loved him?
His feelings might not run as vehemently as hers, but he wasn't immune to her, either. He'd had a dozen girlfriends, been linked in the press to hundreds of women. Yet Shannon couldn't picture him whispering such lovely words to them, sharing such personal sentiments on a regular basis. He might have slept with them, shared his bed with a revolving door of attractive young ladies…but with how many of them would he have been willing to make love on a lumpy, narrow mattress in a shabby little apartment?

No. He felt something for her or he wouldn't be here right now. He wouldn't paint such a pretty picture or use words to charm her when she was already naked and willing beneath him. If she meant nothing more to him than a walking incubator for his child or a quick roll in the hay, he would be inside her by now…or possibly finished already and on his way out the door.

Her heart gave a small thump at the implication of her thoughts, though she warned herself not to get her hopes up. Just because he murmured sweet nothings in her ear didn't mean a declaration of undying love was next on his agenda. He hadn't said anything of the sort up to now, and it would be shortsighted of her to expect him to.

But a girl could dream, couldn't she? This was the first time she had reason to even
hope
Burke might love her. For her, it was worth the risk. She could make love to him with a happy heart because she knew Burke felt
something
for her, whether he realized it himself or not. And maybe, just maybe, she could convince him to admit it sooner rather than later.

“If I'm a fairy princess,” she told him in a raw voice, “then you're my prince.” She ran her fingers through the lock of ebony hair falling over his forehead, only to have it fall right back into place. “I have to point out, however, that you aren't making love to me at the moment. You're only torturing me with your mouth and your—”