Passionate Pregnancies: Enticed by His Forgotten Lover / Wanted by Her Lost Love / Tempted by Her Innocent Kiss. Maya Banks
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body roared to life. Every muscle tensed in instant awareness. Desire and lust coiled tight in his belly and he became achingly hard.
And hell, but she was responsive. After her initial resistance, she melted into his chest and returned his kiss with equal fervor. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him tightly, her lush curves molded perfectly to his body. A body that was screaming for him to pin her to the desk and slake his lust.
He pulled back as awareness returned. For the love of God, what was he thinking? She was pregnant with his child, he couldn’t remember her and yet he was ready to tear both of their clothes off and damn the consequences.
Well, at least she couldn’t get pregnant again….
He ran a hand through his hair and turned away, his heart thudding out of control and his breaths blowing in ragged spurts from his nose.
Not his type? He shook his head. He’d never met a woman in his life with whom he shared such combustible chemistry.
When he turned back around, Bryony stood there looking dazed, her lips swollen and her eyes soft and fuzzy. It was all he could do not to haul her back into his arms to finish what he’d started.
“I’m sorry,” he began before breaking off. “I just had to know.”
Her eyes sharpened and the haze lifted away. “Know what?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot in agitation as she stared him down.
“If I could remember anything,” he muttered.
Her lip curled into a snarl, baring her teeth. He was reminded of a pissed-off cat, and remembering that she’d decked him the night before, he took a step back.
“And?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
She threw him a disgusted look and then turned to stalk out of his office.
“Wait a damn minute,” he called as he started after her.
She made it to the door before he caught her arm and turned her around to face him.
“What the hell is your problem?”
She gaped at him. “My problem? Gee, I don’t know. Maybe I don’t appreciate being mauled as some sort of experiment. I get that this is difficult for you, Rafael, but you aren’t the only one suffering here. You don’t have to be such an ass.”
“But—”
Before he could protest, she was gone again, and he watched her walk away. At least she was wearing sensible shoes she wouldn’t trip in.
He stood there arguing with himself over whether to go after her, but what would he say when he caught up? He wasn’t sorry he kissed her even if it hadn’t been a magic cure-all. It had told him one important thing. He couldn’t get close to her without erupting into flames, which meant the likelihood of her carrying his child …?
Pretty damn good.
He strode back to his desk and picked up the phone. A few seconds later, Ramon answered with a curt affirmative.
“Miss Morgan has just left my office. See that she gets back to her hotel safely.”
Bryony got off the elevator and exited the office building, no longer caring whether she and Rafael had dinner plans. Her jaw ached from the tight set of her teeth and tears stung the corners of her eyes.
She’d hoped for any sign of the Rafael de Luca she’d fallen in love with. Maybe she had also hoped that their kiss would spark … something. Or that maybe he would embrace the possibility that he’d felt something for her … once.
But there had been no recognition in his eyes when he’d pulled away. Just lust. Lust that any man could feel. A man could have sex with any number of women, but it didn’t mean he harbored any deeper feelings for her.
The crisp air ruffled her hair and she started down the sidewalk, no clear direction in mind. It seemed colder than before and she shivered as she walked. Around her, horns honked, people jostled as they passed, dusk was settling and streetlights had started to blink on.
There was still plenty of light for her to walk the few blocks back to her hotel and she needed to let off some steam. She was flushed from Rafe’s kiss and she was furious that he’d been so cold and calculating about it.
She’d felt like … a plaything. Like she hadn’t mattered. Like she was just a set of boobs for his amusement.
But then that’s likely all she’d ever been from the start.
She couldn’t afford to be stupid a second time. Not until she had his guarantee—his written guarantee—that he wouldn’t develop the land would she allow herself to think that his intentions toward her had been sincere.
She hugged her arms to her chest and stopped at a pedestrian crossing. A man knocked into her and she turned with a startled “Hey!”
He mumbled an apology about the time the light turned and the crowd surged forward. With her attention diverted she didn’t feel the tug at her other arm until it was too late.
Her purse strap fell and her arm was nearly yanked from its socket as the thief started to run.
Anger rocketed through her veins and, reacting on instinct, she grabbed ahold of the strap with her other hand and tugged back.
The man was close to her own unimpressive height and nearly as slight, but grim determination was etched into his grimy face. He slammed into her, sending her sprawling to the pavement. She hit with enough impact to jar her teeth, but the strap was wrapped around her wrist now.
He jerked again and this time dragged her a few feet before he let out a snarl of rage and backhanded her. Her grip loosened and out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of silver.
Fear paralyzed her when she saw the knife coming toward her. But her attacker slashed at the strap, sending her flying backward as the tension was released. He was gone, melting into the crowd as she lay sprawled on the curb holding her eye.
It had only taken a few seconds. Under a minute, surely. She heard someone shout and then someone knelt next to her.
“Are you okay, lady?”
She turned, not recognizing the person who’d spoken, and she was too stunned to respond. Then she saw a sleek black car screech to a halt in front of her and a huge mountain of a man rushed out to hover protectively over her.
He moved with a grace that belied his enormous size and he knelt in front of her, his hand cupping her chin as he turned her this way and that to examine her eye.
He barked rapidly into his Bluetooth but she was too muddled to know what he said or to whom he had spoken. She hoped it was the police.
“Miss Morgan, are you all right?” he asked urgently.
“H-how do you know my name?”
“Mr. de Luca sent me.”
“How would he know what happened?” she asked in a baffled tone.
“He wanted to make sure you made it to your hotel safely. I didn’t catch you in time to give you a ride. I was looking for you when I saw what happened.”
“Oh.”
“Can you stand?” he asked.
She slowly nodded. She’d certainly try. As he gently helped her to her feet, she clutched at her belly, worried that her fall had hurt her child.
“Are you in pain?” the man demanded.
“I don’t know,” she said shakily. “Maybe. I’m just scared. The fall …”
“I’m taking you to the hospital at once. Mr. de Luca will meet us there.”
She didn’t protest when he ushered her into the backseat of