The Billionaire's Baby Bargain (A is for Alpha) (14 page)

Her heart ached again and she realized how much she missed her mom. Especially at such an emotional, confusing time when she would’ve given the perfect advice.

Chloe sighed and followed the men to the walk-in closet to further explore her new wardrobe. There were dresses, pants, and shirts of various sizes, some geared for pregnancy. But all were the finest quality and lacking price tags again.

Jerking her fingers from the red silk dress she’d been touching, Chloe closed her eyes, trying hard not to feel like she’d become Andrés’ latest purchase.
 

“They will look lovely on you with your coloring,” Rosa said warmly, approaching her again. “Can I bring you tea, Chloe? Or perhaps a snack? You barely touched your lunch.”

“I’m really not very hungry,” she murmured and folded her arms across her chest.

For a brief moment, she considered the crazy idea of begging the housekeeper to help her, explaining everything that had happened. Surely she would understand Chloe’s position and emotional resentment.

As if the older woman could read her mind, Rosa said, “Andrés is a good man,
señorita
. I promise. Give yourself a bit of time and I know you will see this.”

“A good man? Forgive me if I’m not in a hurry to agree.” Chloe couldn’t keep the bitterness from her tone.

 
The housekeeper stepped away with a wary look, her brows drawn together in a scowl. “There is much you do not know about him, señorita. Much you do not understand,” Rosa said, her voice low and unsteady. That she’d taken offense was apparent now. “You should not be so quick to judge.”

“Why?
 
He certainly seems quick to judge me?” Chloe bit her cheek, regretting her outburst when she could use this opportunity to learn more about Andrés. “What don’t I know? Please, I only want to understand him.”

“No,” Rosa said vehemently, avoiding Chloe’s gaze. “I will say no more.”
 

With a groan of frustration, Chloe had to restrain herself from running after the housekeeper when she left the room. But what would be the point? Rosa wouldn’t help her or say anything further—she’d made her loyalties clear.
 

She considered trying to find a phone or a computer and then contacting her friend Martha to beg for help. But even if Chloe did manage to get back to the States, she could well imagine what would happen the moment the baby was born.

Andrés would descend on her with a legal team that would make her knees shake with terror. She’d go broke fighting to keep her child, and in the end he would still win. Just like he’d threatened. My God, she couldn’t even imagine. Just the idea of losing her baby or walking away after it was born made her stomach hurt. He’d left her no other choice than to stay. Maybe hope that Andrés grew a heart—or at least a conscience—and changed his mind.

Tears of frustration blurred her vision and she shook her head, walking to the window to again look out at the beautiful Catalonian countryside.
 

She might have been in the middle of paradise, but it was her own personal hell.

Andrés arrived home from the office in the wee hours of the morning. He’d been in multiple meetings and on numerous phone calls after what he’d thought was an airtight deal had fallen through just before the business day ended.
 

He’d rung Rosa and asked her to inform Chloe that he would not be returning tonight. Initially he’d planned to stay in his condo in the city, but then as the hours wore on, he’d found Chloe constantly on his mind. The need to see her and touch her had dominated his thoughts, until finally he’d had his chauffer pick him up and return him back to the villa.

When Andrés opened the door to his bedroom, he found all the lights turned off, with only the light from the moon pouring in through the high window. Sure enough, Chloe was in bed, sprawled out in the middle and obviously not expecting his return.
 

His lips curled into a slight smile as he loosened his tie and began to undress. As he approached the bed he realized she’d ignored all the expensive nightgowns he’d bought for her and wore a T-shirt instead.

When he stood above the bed he let out a silent laugh. His T-shirt, apparently. Amazing she’d found it. It was likely the only one he owned. The shirt had been a gift from the children’s football league he’d sponsored last spring.

Chloe had kicked off the sheets, and his gaze slid over her exposed body. Somehow his shirt, clinging to her breasts and ending mid-thigh, was much sexier on her at this moment than any of the dainty nightgowns he’d bought.

Had she worn it to defy him? Or perhaps because she’d missed him and wearing his shirt made her feel closer to him? He almost laughed derisively at the second idea. She hated him. Fortunately, some of the hate could easily be transferred into desire, which he’d proven time and time again.

Thrusting a hand through his hair, he gave a murmur of surprise to realize some of his stress had vanished at having simply watching Chloe sleeping in his bed.

Once he was undressed, he slipped into bed naked, never having been one to wear pajamas. He reached for her and pulled her back against him, wondering if she’d protest even in sleep. But she only stirred slightly and then snuggled back against him.

He slid his palm down to her stomach, felt the swell of her pregnancy, and was gripped with a powerful sense of content. Satisfaction.
 

Brushing a kiss at the nape of her neck, he tried not to think about how such a complicated woman could be such a balm to his soul.
 

When Andrés woke the next morning, he found Chloe asleep and curled up, facing him now. One hand splayed across his chest, while her head nestled against his shoulder.

Pleasure slipped through him and he blinked the rest of the drowsiness away, placing his arm around her lower back to draw her closer. It seemed natural waking next to her. Having her lush, hot body warming his.

She let out a soft sigh and tilted her head back, an unintentional offering of her mouth to him. And who was he to decline such a tempting invitation?

Lowering his head, he brushed his lips against hers, needing just a quick taste. She was soft and sweet, just like the moan she emitted at his caress.

His blood quickened and he deepened the kiss, parting her lips with his own to explore the temptation inside. He thrilled when she responded. Twisting her body until she was nearly on top of him and returning his kiss.
 

Dios
, but he wanted her. Over the summer he’d experienced pleasure with her that was unmatched in any of his previous partners, a soul-deep connection that seemed far too intense to be healthy. And yet he couldn’t fight it. Would never be able to. And for over two months now he had gone without a woman’s touch, had lain in his bed and fantasized about their one passionate night together.

Now she was here in his bed, her body willing in his arms. Chloe was his. He’d been a fool to let her walk away, no matter her transgressions. Their passion had been real over the summer.
 

Cristo
, he would wait no longer.

Andrés gave a soft growl low in his throat and tugged his shirt off of her. Then he rolled her onto her back, covering her body with his own.

Chapter 7

This simply had to be the most realistic dream yet.
 

Chloe moaned and kissed Andrés back, flicking her tongue against his more boldly than she could ever recall being. She didn’t want to wake up from the sensuality. Didn’t want to open her eyes to discover the wonderful weight of Andrés’s body wasn’t on top of her.

Even after hating him for his horrible treatment of her, she’d spent months wanting him. Tossing and turning in her bed at night, only to have sensual dreams of him when she did fall asleep.
 

But never were the dreams this vivid, this real. When his hands cupped her breasts, she gasped and arched into him, electric tingles shooting over her nerve endings. She writhed beneath him, begging him for more and to never stop.

“
Sí, cariño.
I will give you more,” he made the husky promise. “Anything you want, Chloe.”
 

His mouth covered one taut nipple and then the other, drawing upon them and spilling heat between her thighs.

So good. The dream was so good this time. So real. She thrust her hands into his hair and lifted her hips against his, needing him to touch her, to bring her release.
 

Rough hands caught her panties and plucked them from her body. Then his skilled fingers slipped between her legs. Stroking her, penetrating her, pushing her higher to the peak of pleasure.

Andrés’s strong, masculine thighs parted hers, and a moment later his thick erection probed the tender flesh between her legs.

Alarm bells went off in her head. No, it was too real. Her subconscious screamed for her to wake up, to end this dream.
 

She let her lashes flutter open…just as Andrés thrust into her. Her body bowed as shock ripped through her, mingling with a pleasure so intense it threatened to undo her. Awake. It was
real
.

“Andrés,” she whispered thickly, trying to shake her head.
 

“Yes, Chloe, say my name.” His gaze was hot enough to burn the depths of her soul. “Ah
, cariño
.” He sank another inch into her body, causing her to cry out with sensation.
 

She reached out to push him off her, but starving desire made her dig her nails into his shoulders instead. She lifted her hips to bring him deeper, her heart pounding as if she’d run a marathon. The blood in her veins sizzled with heat and need. And yet still, her mind wanted to fight it. To fight the consuming passion that ensnared both of them. “Please…we shouldn’t.”

“We should,
cariño
.” He began to ride her and when she moaned low in her throat, triumph flickered his eyes.
 

And then the pleasure consumed her, robbing her ability to want anything but him to continue. Wanting for him to fill that hollow ache that had existed since they’d been apart. She was back in Spain. In Andrés’ arms and his bed, and no matter how much she wanted to resent him, she couldn’t. Chloe gave a sob of pleasure and surrendered herself to him—body, mind, and soul.

She followed his rhythm, her moans mingling with his. He moved deep inside her, deeper than seemed possible. Her chest tightened and she gasped in air. Each thrust he made spun her pleasure higher and higher, until it toppled over and she was flying. She clutched him and gasped while he found his own release.

When she could finally breathe and the pleasure had faded to delicious tingles, she found herself cradled in his arms, Andrés lying on his side now.

His lips brushed against her cheek as he stroked a hand possessively down her back. “I think you will be happy here,
cariño
,” he murmured softly against her ear. “If you would just let yourself be.”

A wave of cold reality flushed through her at his words. Replacing the pleasure and soft aftermath of his lovemaking.

How could she have forgotten everything so quickly? Andrés had vowed to have her back in his bed, and he’d gotten exactly what he wanted.
 

Last night she’d gone to sleep both jealous and hurt, knowing he wasn’t coming home to be with her. That he was instead staying in the city. She’d been tormented with the image of him in bed with another woman, picturing the glamorous girls she’d seen on his arms in the tabloids.

And then it seemed he’d returned, after God knew where he’d been, and decided to take her. And she’d let him. She’d had no willpower to push him away, had clung to him like her life depended on it, begging him to make love to her.

But this wasn’t about love or romance. It was about control and lust. Andrés might call it making love, but she knew better. It was sex to him. It would always be sex. Her stomach clenched with the realization.
 

How could she possibly live like this?

“Please, Andrés, let me go home.” The plea spilled from Chloe’s lips before she could stop it. “I promise I’ll keep you involved with the baby’s progress.”

She knew he was angry by the immediate tension in his body, the way he stopped stroking her back but tightened his hand on her spine, keeping her firmly against him.

“I have made myself clear,” he said quietly and lifted his head to look into her eyes. His gaze was hard, with no traces of passion left, but a hint of frustration she knew he wouldn’t want her to see. “You will be well taken care of here, as was clearly demonstrated yesterday morning with Dr. Flores.”

“Andrés—”

“What more can I offer you?”

“You’re not offering me anything,” she cried, not caring if he saw the sheen of tears. “Can’t you see that? You’re taking. You don’t seem to give a damn what I want.”

His jaw clenched. “And what is it you want? I’ve offered marriage.”

“I don’t want a marriage without love,” she blurted and bit her cheek. Jeez, why hadn’t she held her tongue?

His expression became shuttered. The hand on her back moved up and into her hair. “I see,” he said flatly. “You want the one thing I will never be able to give you.”