Accidentally Pregnant With The Billionaire Heir

ALISTAIR

Cold water blasts out of the brass showerhead. The freezing temperature hits my chest and back with punishing force.

I stand directly under the icy stream. I brace my hands against the wet marble wall. I close my eyes and force my erratic breathing to slow down.

I am losing my ironclad control.

Emily smiled at me in the living room. Her dark hair was damp and messy. Her face was scrubbed clean of all makeup. Her soft, delicate demeanor contrasted violently with the sharp, witty insult she threw at my ego. She called me a narcissist and laughed directly in my face.

The sound of her genuine laughter stirred a frantic, restless agitation deep inside my gut.

I look down at my right hand. The memory of her skin brushing against mine echoes in my nerves. The electric jolt was completely unexpected. I grip the marble shelf tightly. I ruthlessly suppress the heavy, primal desire pooling in my lower stomach. The intense physical reaction is simply a biological misfire. I have abstained from any physical intimacy for far too long. Three years of celibacy is finally catching up to my rational mind. That is the only logical explanation.

I turn my right arm slightly under the freezing water.

A distinct ring of dark purple bruising decorates the solid muscle of my forearm. The bite mark she left on my skin yesterday is healing, but the indentation of her teeth remains perfectly clear.

I reach out and trace the edge of the bruise with my wet thumb.

I turn the shower off. The sudden silence in the bathroom rings in my ears. I grab a thick towel and dry off quickly. I pull on a pair of dark cotton sleep trousers and leave my chest bare.

I open the bathroom door and step into the master bedroom.

The bedside lamps are switched off. The only illumination comes from the moonlight spilling through the glass balcony doors. I walk quietly toward the center of the room.

Emily lies on the left side of the massive mattress. She is completely buried under the thick comforter. Only the very top of her dark hair and her peaceful face are visible. The priceless black gloves sit neatly arranged on top of the mahogany nightstand.

I stop at the edge of the bed. I look down at her relaxed, sleeping form. The fierce independence she displayed twenty minutes ago is entirely gone.

A wry smile pulls at the corner of my mouth.

"She is asleep," I murmur softly to the quiet room.

I walk around to the right side of the bed. I pull the heavy comforter back and lie down on the mattress. The space between us is vast, but the subtle scent of lavender and vanilla drifts across the pillows.

Emily shifts her weight under the covers. She turns her head toward my side of the bed. She lets out a soft, incoherent murmur in her sleep. She burrows her face deeper into the plush white pillow and settles into complete stillness.

I stare at the dark ceiling. I listen to the slow, steady rhythm of her breathing. The cold shower did absolutely nothing to erase the electric shock still burning against my knuckles.