Page 16 of Dante (Members From Money Season 2. #153)

October slid into November seamlessly and brought with it icy rain and cooling temperature.

There was an uneasy truce between them, and she did her best not to draw attention to her pregnancy.

She had not started showing yet, except her bosom.

And thankfully the weather was cool enough for her to wear jackets.

She did everything right. Arriving early and leaving late. Even when he insisted that she did not have to. She wanted to secure her job, wanted to prove to him that she was indispensable.

He treated her with cool politeness and inquired about her health twice.

Her queasiness was increasing, but she had received anti-nausea pills that were working. Not wanting to tempt fate too much, she was sticking to mildly seasoned meals and drinking her milk as well as eating her vegetables and fruits.

Her brother popped around to check on her every night before going home.

She had to admit that after Michael had dumped her, she had wondered vaguely if she should get rid of the fetus, but now it was a baby to her.

Her baby and she was going to break the mold and love him or her to death.

She bought books and read avidly. She had also started playing classical music along with her rock and reggae.

After all, she had to have a good mindset too!

She played the music when she was at home and in her car.

Her baby was going to be smart as a whip and well loved.

It was the end of the month when her cautious monitoring of her symptoms came crashing down. She had agreed to work late to get some reports ready for an emergency board meeting scheduled for first thing the next morning.

She had kicked off her heels and was sitting on the sofa by the window, as she took dictation and fine-tuned the report.

He was seated across from her and trying his best to ignore the long legs encased in transparent nylon.

It pissed him off royally that she did not seem to be aware of him, while he was in the throes of a desire that threatened to drive him bat shit crazy.

Picking up the bottle of water, she took a sip and felt the queasiness roiling inside her stomach.

"No. No. No."

"What is--" He stared in amazed shock when she shoved up from the chair and bolted in the direction of his private suite.

Putting aside his device, he got to his feet slowly and made his way through the bedroom and into the bathroom. She was on the floor and dry heaving.

When she felt him behind her, the thought of moving away was swamped by the feeling of utter and complete dizziness that took hold of her.

His arms came around her and he lifted her into his arms.

"I'm sorry. Just set me down. I'll--"

"Be quiet."

She obeyed automatically and was too weak and sick to protest further until he lowered her onto the bed.

"What are you doing?" She started to rise, when he pushed her back down.

"Look--"

"Shut up." His eyes were blazing and had her sinking into the soft pillows meekly. He looked upset and she realized that now he was going to fire her.

"Stay right there."

"As if I can move," she muttered, closing her eyes in despair.

Inside the kitchenette, he carefully made tea and added honey, his mind whirling.

His heart had simply stopped when he found her on the floor.

She had looked even worse than the first time.

Should he take her to the hospital? Call a damn doctor?

He had several who were friends of his and would be discreet.

He wanted to cuddle her, shield her from what was going on inside her body.

Placing the cup on a saucer, he went back into the bedroom to see that her eyes were closed.

They flickered open when he came alongside the bed and sat up.

"I'm sorry."

"You said that before." His voice was brusque. He handed her the tea. "Did you have lunch?"

She nodded and blew on the tea.

"What?"

"I'm sorry. What?"

"What did you have for lunch?"

"Soup."

"And?"

"Crackers. My stomach was acting up."

He glanced at the clock. "It's now half past seven, what else did you have?"

She ducked her head guiltily. "Uhm, I was going to go home and make something."

"We have a kitchen and full complement of staff." He wanted to shake her.

"I was busy."

"You're damn pregnant."

"I already know that." She avoided his eyes and took another sip of tea.

"I should go home--"

"You should stay home for the rest of the week."

She swallowed too fast and almost scalded her tongue. "What?"

"You're ill."

"I'm not terminal. It's not like I am dying from a debilitating disease. If you want to get rid of me--" She shifted back when he sat on the edge of the bed. The glint in his eyes warned her he was on the edge.

"Was that what I said?" he demanded. "You were on the floor, goddammit."

"I'm sorry--" She stuttered to a stop at the anger glinting in his golden eyes.

Taking the cup from her, he set it aside carefully. She was holding her breath when he reached out and hauled her against him.

"What--" He simply cut off the rest by fusing his lips to hers.

For a few seconds, she went rigid with shock and then the heat, the fire, the flood of emotions kicked in and swamped her.

She became weak as a newborn kitten, her bones liquified.

His mouth, sweet Jesus! His mouth claimed hers, took in a way that had her blood boiling.

Nerves shot through her body like lightening.

Her moans were captured deep inside his throat. He had not planned it and at the point of death, he could not stop. Heat clashed and collided inside him.

Recovering from the initial shock, she parted her lips and gave him access.

The taste of her was like dark honey, the scent of her surrounded him, invaded his body and mind and drove him mad.

He took and he was rough. It vaguely occurred to him that he was crossing the line, but he did not care.

The taste and texture of her lips, her tongue, her mouth, even her saliva was like a drug that weakened him and crushed his very soul.

His hands gripped her head to steady her as he ravished her mouth.

Lowering her back on the pillows, he covered her body with his, allowing her to feel his rigid arousal. He swallowed her gasps. Her moans sent him over the edge even more. His hands were everywhere, on her neck, her face, her arms and then back to her throat.

She whimpered when he tore his mouth from hers and savaged her throat. Her nipples scraped against the fabric of her sweater, sending white hot heat shimmering through her body.

Lifting his head, he stared at her, eyes darkened, face harsh with a desire he could no longer control.

"Stop me," he whispered roughly and meant it. "Stop me now. Tell me you don't want this."

Her body was shuddering. In all her life, she had never felt anything so intense, anything so powerful and she was in heat.

"I can't," she whispered back, body quivering. "I can't."

Giving her one last look, he lowered his head and seized her lips. Her arms came around his neck, fingers digging into the softness of his dark hair.

She was drowning and did not want to even come up for air.

When he reached under her sweater to feel her skin, her body vibrated.

Lifting her slightly, he eased the sweater off and simply stared.

His breathing was harsh, his body so churned up, he could barely think straight.

The scrap of lace was black, a striking contrast against the coffee and cream complexion.

He could clearly see her nipples through the transparent material.

With trembling fingers, he unhooked the front clasp and took it off.

With his eyes on hers, he circled the rigid flesh slowly, watching as her lips parted and her body arched.

"Please," she gasped. Her fingers gripped his wrists, biting into the flesh.

He reacted to her obvious passion by bending his head and circling the flesh with his tongue.

She tasted tart and sweet and completely addictive.

And he just knew that coming this far, having her like this would never be enough.

Suckling the nipple inside his mouth, he feasted like a man who had been starving for a very long time and was just now faced with an enticing and sumptuous banquet.

He fed mindlessly, switching to the other breast, until she was writhing beneath him.

And he wanted more. If he did not have all of her, he was going to die. Stumbling to his feet, he dragged off his clothing, before getting rid of hers. The lamp cast shadows on her skin, and she wasn't even embarrassed as he spent several minutes taking her in.

She did the same, her fingers trailing over his broad shoulders in wonder, before tangling in the dense hairs covering a very impressive chest. His muscles bunched and flexed as she continued to explore. He had a magnificent body. All muscles and long legs.

Brushing the hair from her forehead, he kissed her tenderly and felt the overwhelming need to protect her, to make her his.

The thought filtered through his mind that he had no right doing this, no right to her, that this was all wrong, but he was too far gone.

Sliding on top of her, he entered her slowly, easing in an inch at a time until he had filled her.