Page 87 of Nine Months to Bear

“Then where?”

His hands on my skin make it impossible to think. It takes me an eternity to remember where we are, where we could go.

“My room,” I finally manage.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes blazing with something that makes my knees weak. Without warning, he lifts me.

“I can walk!” I protest, but there’s no conviction in my voice.

“It’s the least I can do…” He grins. “… since I stole all of your shoes.”

So he admits it! There’s a red flag if ever there was one. But we’re long past the point of no return. I’m a puddle of raw need—and, if the heat slaking off of him is any indication, he’s in exactly the same predicament.

When we reach my bedroom, he kicks the door shut behind us. The room is bathed in moonlight. Everything is glowing, silver, fantastical.

He sets me on my feet but doesn’t release me. Those huge hands move up to cup my face.

If he keeps looking at me like that, I’m going to melt. I need him to fuck me before I start thinking this is more than it really is.

I reach for the zipper of my dress to finish what he started, but he catches my hands. “Let me.”

He does it slowly, his breath held captive in his chest just like mine is. Inch by inch, my body is exposed to the moonglow.

The dress falls away like wilting petals and falls silently to my feet. His eyes roam over my body—black lace bra, matching panties, not that I planned any of this. Just luck of the underwear drawer, I guess.

All he says is, “Beautiful.”

It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.

I start to reach for his shirt, then I stop myself out of anxiety. I look up at him and he simply arches a brow.

It’s a dare. I can almost hear his teasing rasp:How bold are you, Dr. Aster?

Good fucking question. I no longer know.

My fingers are shaking, but I put them to work. One by one, the buttons come undone, revealing the tanned skin and hard muscle beneath. I drink in every detail.

Dark chest hair. A tattoo over one pectoral, inky black. A scar along the ribs and another over his liver. Descending cliffs of his abs, pointing down, down, down.

When I get to his belt, though, his hand closes over mine. “Not yet,” he says. “I want to taste you first.”

I take it back—that’sthe sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.

He doesn’t wait for permission before he’s lifting me again and setting me down on the edge of the massive bed. He kneels before me and shoves my knees apart. Not tender anymore—this is rough.

He hooks two fingers in the waistband of my panties and drags them down my legs, then tosses them aside. Palming the insides of my thighs to keep them wide, he lowers his face and exhales onto my center.

I hear his jaw crack as he parts his lips—but then he stops. Looks up at me. And sighs.

“Always thinking, thinking, thinking,” he scolds. “Do you ever turn that mind of yours off, Dr. Aster?”

He’s right. Even now, with his hands on my skin and the most insane cocktail of desire coursing through me, my mind is racing with questions.Who is he, really? What does he want with Walsh? Why me? Why this? Why now?

Stefan chuckles, like he can see all of that and more, written clear as day on my face.

Then he shrugs and puts his mouth to my pussy, and it all goes up in smoke.

Thought becomes literally impossible as he devours me. I’m a twitching live wire, bouncing, writhing, until he plants a palm on my lower belly to pin me in place.