The Baby Project
by Miranda Liasson
Genre: Contemporary Romance
International correspondent Grant Wilbanks loves danger and travelling the world. But nothing in all this Brit’s experience could have prepared him for the way a torrid affair with Liz makes him feel. When she asks for his assistance, he figures he can help her out with a simple donation. No strings, no emotions, just…test-tube science.
But this simple favor gives them both more than they ever bargained for. Grant agrees to her terms, but stepping away gets harder and harder because the more time they spend together, the more he finds himself falling…and losing the battle to safeguard his heart.
On Sale in Digital: September 4, 2017
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“What is it?” Liz asked. Her body felt boneless, her throat suddenly dry, blood whooshing in her ears. Either she was having a heart attack or she was very, very turned on. Or both.
“Why are you wearing my bathrobe?”
Oh, dammit. Busted. At least the embarrassment made her thoughts veer back into safer territory. “I—spilled vinegar on my shirt and it was hanging on your kitchen chair.” That was the truth. She omitted the fact that she’d inhaled it repeatedly and probably would have slept in it if he hadn’t shown up.
His full, beautiful lips curved up in a smile. “It looks better on you anyway.”
His hands stopped moving on her arms. He stood there looking at her, his grin slowly fading.
There went that whoosh-whooshing of her blood pounding through her temples, her pulse points, the heat from his gaze spreading through her, settling in her core.
“It might look even better off,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. Oh God. Did she say that?
His brows shot up in surprise. The smile returned, this time predatory. A gleam flashed in his eyes. Then he bent his head and kissed her. Just a graze of her lips, soft and featherlight, but it made her lose her breath, her balance. Her sense.
He steadied her. Pulled back, holding her by the shoulders and tracing her cheek with his thumb. “I need you to tell me what you want. Perhaps this isn’t a good time.”
She couldn’t let him leave. She wanted him more than air, needed him too badly. But to say that?
His thumb slipped down and traced her lower lip. “Let me make you feel better. I know how.”
Of course he did, and every cell in her body knew it.
His other hand wrapped around her neck, tangled in her hair. Slowly, he drew her in to him. Tugged on her lower lip, tasted it. Teased it. She gasped. The surprising tenderness of his touch, the slow, careful moves, had her trembling beneath his touch.
“Is this what you want?”
Oh, of course it was. Emotions collided inside her, some attached to warnings, but her absolute need for him pushed all her doubts away.
“Say the word and I’ll leave. But say it now.”
His voice was soft, tender, yet demanding at the same time.
One word was all it took for him to seal her lips with his. He possessed her mouth with relentless kisses and thorough strokes of his clever tongue, making the slow steady simmer building within her go up in flames.
Suddenly their bodies were flush, and she could feel the raw, uncontrolled heat of him searing her through his thin robe. The hard thickness of his erection pressed against her belly, against the throbbing pulse between her legs. His mouth was on her, oh God, his wonderful, soft lips kissing her, possessing her mouth, his tongue tangling with hers.
She forgot everything—her sadness, her disappointment, her name. All were smoke and ashes scorched by the absolute hunger between them.
He slid his hand down her back and cupped her ass, positioning her over his raging erection. She ground her hips against him until he emitted a deep, low growl, which pleased her greatly. She felt his smile against her lips as he scooped her up and carried her into her bedroom.
“Make love to me,” she whispered.
“I will,” he said, tossing her lightly onto the bed and shrugging off his suit jacket. “But only if you give me back my robe. I’m quite possessive of my clothing.”
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