Page 17 of Dante (Members From Money Season 2. #153)

His body reacted to her tight moistness, and he had to take a moment.

Lifting his lips from hers, he took several breaths before he started to move.

As soon as he did, she came. The climax was shattering, causing her body to arch, her fingers to dig into his chest, his back, his shoulders.

Her scream echoed around the room, jolting him until he could feel his heart hammering, his blood boiling.

He took her lips again, seized them, capturing the moans as his own body shuddered and crested.

The climax was powerful and unending. He poured himself inside her, his long, lean body convulsing.

Even after he was completely empty, he continued kissing her, his body shuddering, his heart shattering.

For the first time in his entire life, he was undone by a woman, his heart spread wide open, a strange vulnerability grabbing him by the throat.

For a long moment, the only sound was their mingled breathing, raw and uneven, threading through the hush that blanketed the room.

She lay tangled beneath him, her hands still clutching at his shoulders, as if reluctant to let him slip away either from her arms or from the truth that had just sparked between them.

A tremor ran through him, gentler now, as he pressed his forehead to hers. The fierce urgency that had driven them now softened, replaced by a profound tenderness. He brushed a thumb over her cheek, tracing the sheen of a tear she hadn't even known she'd shed.

And then common sense and reality reared its head.

They had both crossed a line and there was no going back from it.

He was the first to move, sliding off her and swinging his legs off the bed.

Courtney saw him, crushed and shattered from the encounter.

He had his back turned to her as he sat on the edge of the bed, one hand rubbing the back of his neck.

She had to get out of here. But first she needed a shower.

"Uhm--" She cleared her throat and had him turning to look at her. The expression on his face was not encouraging one bit. "I need a shower."

He nodded and shifted so that she could get up.

Dragging the sheet around her, she rose and made her way into the bathroom.

She was not going to think about it. She had slept with her boss, she was another walking cliché.

It was not enough that she was knocked up and alone, but she had compounded it by having sex with the man who signed her paycheck.

She was pregnant, carrying another man's baby inside her and had just had sex with her boss.

Her multi-billionaire boss who was involved with an actress.

"Oh good God!" she whispered and turned on the tap. She was adjusting the temperature when she felt him behind her. Without a word, he took the sponge and touched a button so that the shower gel squirted out.

Biting her lip, she closed her eyes and succumbed to his gentle ministrations.

His hands came around to rub her breasts, then slide over her flat stomach.

When she leaned against him, he kissed her neck, nibbling at the flesh.

He had convinced himself or had tried to, in the few seconds he had been alone in the room, and it had not worked.

He could not stay away from her, that was a given.

It was fact and he was not going to try.

"Oh," she gasped, arching her back when he slid the sponge between her thighs and rubbed.

Dropping the sponge, he used his fingers on her and then they were inside her.

The climax shattered her and had her crying out, fingers gripping the hand banded around her waist. Her body trembled, convulsing, heart throbbing.

Turning her around, he hoisted her up, piercing her, until she was plastered on the tiles.

He moved slowly, fingers linked with hers, eyes piercing hers.

Bending his head, he captured her weak cries as she crested again.

If he had not been holding her, she would have simply slid down the tiles, that was how weak her limbs were.

She felt as if she was floating, her vision blurry. His own climax came as a shattering force, causing him to plunge into her, his body shuddering. When he was finished, when he was completely drained, it took all his strength to hold them both upright.

Turning the jet spray on them, he let the water rinse away the suds, before stepping out with her still wrapped around him. Grabbing some towels, he strode into the room and eased her away so that he could dry her off.

"It's late." She felt like she had to say something and stated the obvious.

"You'd better get dressed." His brisk tone had her heart sinking.

So, they were not going to talk about it. That was just fine with her. Grabbing her clothes, she dressed hastily, and finger combed her hair. She was heading towards the door when he caught up with her.

"What?"

"Your panties." He turned her to face him and to her acute embarrassment held the scrap of lace in his palm. When she started to take it, he closed his fingers over it.

"I prefer to keep it." His other hand cupped her cheek. "And I would ask you to stay but we're going to have to avoid rumors."

Her eyes flashed. "I'm not going to be the topic of conversation among the staff. This should never have happened, and it won't happen again."

He silenced her with his lips. The kiss was bruising and had her leaning on the door weakly.

"If you believe that, you're fooling yourself. Text me when you get home." He held onto her. "Stay home tomorrow."

"Was that an order?"

He sighed at her tone. "It was a suggestion."

"Then the answer is no. I have to go."

He let her go reluctantly. He was going to have a conversation soon, but right now, he had some thinking to do, and he figured she did as well.

She had no idea how she made it home.

The city lights seemed unusually harsh, casting long shadows that did little to conceal the confusion swirling inside her.

Every step away from his building felt both liberating and unbearably heavy.

Her phone buzzed once in her bag, a gentle reminder that the night, though over, had left threads unwoven.

At home, the silence pressed in. She peeled off her clothes, tossing them carelessly aside, and padded barefoot to the kitchen, filling a glass with water she barely tasted. The memory of his touch lingered on her skin, refusing to be washed away by the routine comfort of her apartment.

She stared at her phone, fighting the urge to text him, to say something, anything, that might clarify the raw uncertainty between them.

Instead, she set the phone down, unresolved feelings pulsing beneath her ribs like a second heartbeat.

Tomorrow would bring its own set of complications.

Tonight, all she could do was surrender to the quiet, and let the ache of longing settle, as steady and inescapable as breath.

Slipping into an old T-shirt, she finally shot off a brief text to let him know she had made it home and quickly turned off the phone, in case she thought of calling.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she scrubbed her hands over her face and let them drop between her thighs.

Her body was still tingling, nipples aching from the use of his mouth on them.

And the memories were still fresh in her mind.

She would have to go back to the office and face him.

How could she? she wondered despairingly.

She slept with her boss. Something she never saw herself ever doing.

When had her life gotten so complicated?

Shoving to her feet, she paced the length of the room agitatedly.

And ignored the fact that she wanted to do it again.

He made her feel so alive and so much like a woman.

Was there some sort of signal she had given him, something to make him think he could just have her like that?

What? Because she was knocked up, she was easy prey? Did he think she was easy?

"Oh God!" Dragging her fingers through her hair, she stopped in the middle of the room, her eyes wide.

That was totally it. He had a yearning or needed a willing woman at the time, and she was right there.

The bastard! How dare he label her. She was not a whore.

She was a respectable black woman who had fought to get where she was, and she was damned if she was going to allow some rich bastard with too much money to count to use and discard her.

Yes, she had allowed that worthless piece of crap to fool her into thinking they had something going on. And was paying for it in spades. Pressing a hand on her flat stomach she murmured an apology to the life growing inside her. It wasn't that she did not want the baby, God knew she did, but...

Sitting heavily on the bed, she heaved out a breath and tried to breathe out her anger.

She was churned up and not thinking rationally. Looking back, she tried to put the pieces together. She had been violently ill again for the second time in his presence. He had been a human being about it and showed concern.

Worrying her bottom lip, she wondered if she had sent off some sort of signal. Like "pregnant woman seeking love, attention and sex." She had not had sex in almost six months and maybe, just maybe it showed.

Shaking her head, she crawled into bed and closed her eyes in mortification. She had behaved badly but so had he! He had gotten off as much as she did.

Taking another breath, she struggled for calm and reasonable thinking. And realized she was starving. Swinging her legs off the bed, she made her way to the kitchen, determined to put it away until morning.

He spent the night at the office and realized he was torturing himself.

Her scent was all over the tangled sheets.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he dragged his hands over his face wearily.

What the hell was he going to do? He wanted her.

A harsh laugh escaped him at how inadequate that sounded.

Wanted was too tame a word for what he was feeling.

The need for her was so intense, it left a gut-wrenching feeling inside him that was not going to go away.

It had taken a great amount of willpower for him not to beg her to stay.

In the past, women had always been a way for him to let off some steam and he could do without them. But this time, he knew deep inside him that it was different. Way different.