Claimed: The Pregnant Heiress. Day Leclaire

that sent it sliding to the floor. She stood before him clad in garter and stockings, a small pale triangle of silk panties protecting her modesty. He eased her back onto the mattress.

      “You’re beautiful, Emma.”

      The words seemed so inadequate. Shallow. And despite what Rafe claimed, Chase didn’t find anything shallow about Emma. Granted, he didn’t know her well. Yet. But her intelligence glittered in her eyes, and enthusiasm exuded from her, a quiet, wholehearted joie de vivre filling her up and overflowing onto everyone around her.

      With swift, economical movements he loosened the straps of her heels and toss ed them aside. He took more time removing her garters and stockings, tripping his fingers along the outer edge of her shapely legs and then up again along the sensitive inner length. She shivered when he reached her thighs. Moaned as he approached the apex. Released a soft cry of need the instant he cupped the very heart of her through her silk panties.

      Just that one touch left her teetering on the brink, as close to going over as he was. At the last possible moment he remembered to grab a condom from the nightstand table. Then he swept her panties from her hips and settled down on top of her. Her lips were swollen from his kisses and a flush ran feverishly high along the curve of her cheekbones. Passion turned her eyes dark with need, a ripe, blistering ardor that more than matched his own.

      “Why did you leave me last November when we have this between us? When it only takes a single touch for us both to go up in flames?” he demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were or how to find you again?”

      “I was afraid.”

      “Afraid of me?”

      She shook her head, her hair forming a pale, tangled halo of white gold. “Not of you. Never of you. I was afraid of this. Of wanting someone like you so much.”

      “Afraid of how you respond when we come together?”

      In one swift move he mated their bodies, one to the other. The breath sobbed from her lungs. “Yes. Oh, please don’t stop. I’ve been waiting so long to feel like this again.”

      “Look at me, Emma. I want you to know who you’re with.”

      Anger burned alongside her desperation. “I know who I’m with, Chase. How could I possibly forget how it was between us?”

      The admission threw him off stride, but only for a moment. “It’ll be even better this time,” he promised.

      Because this time he knew what she wanted. What made her sing. What made her explode. What made her soar within his arms. And he’d do everything within his power to give her all that and more.

      As much as he wanted to take her fast and hard, he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. He needed that slow build, to experience that climb every inch of the way. To absorb her breathless moans with his every kiss and have that soft, soft flesh brushing against his. To savor the sweet scent of desire gathering in the air and taste it on her mouth and skin.

      He sampled first her lips, then her breasts. And he moved with her, a slow, gliding waltz. He caught her hands in his and locked them over her head, their fingers entwined. Her legs slid along his, her toes pressing into his calves in joyous welcome, then wrapping around his hips, anchoring him tight. The tempo increased, moving from waltz to tango.

      Sighs turned to murmurs of demand. Control escaped his grasp. How was that possible? He never lost control with women. Always maintained a safe distance even in the most intimate of situations. Never allowed anyone to glimpse his raw emotions in case they were used against him. But with Emma … The dance grew ever faster and he surrendered to the drive, to the magical music the two of them made whenever they came together. She arched beneath him, bowing upward as her climax slammed through her. He couldn’t help himself. He followed her up and over, leaping with her into that glittering place of rapture met and fantasy realized.

      Silence reigned for endless seconds afterward, while they both struggled to catch their breath. “How do you do that?” Emma asked at last, gasping for air. “How do you take us so much further than I ever believed possible?”

      Her heartbeat thundered against his, a perfect counterpoint to his own. “It’s a skill.”

      “One you have down pat, apparently.” She spared him a speaking glance. “Lots of practice?”

      “Some. But with you—” He broke off before he revealed too much.

      “With me … what?”

      “It’s different.” And that’s all he intended to say.

      She slipped out from beneath him and curled tight against his side, one leg thrown across his. “Different how?”

      How the hell had he gotten into this? He decided to take the manly way out. “Why ruin the moment by picking it apart?”

      She simply laughed. “Oh, please. You can’t get out of explaining yourself with that old dodge. You’re the one who brought it up.”

      “You know it’s different without my explaining how or why,” he insisted gruffly.

      “I just wanted to hear you admit it.” She relaxed against him. “And if it makes you feel any better, I don’t understand why we’re like this together, either.”

      Chase had always been good at analyzing disparate elements and organizing them into a recognizable shape. It was one of the factors that made him such an outstanding investor. The instant Emma admitted that her reaction to him didn’t mirror what she experienced with other men, a puzzle piece clicked into place, causing that night in New York to assume a new and fascinating shape.

      “You realized it the first time we were together, didn’t you?” he asked. “You realized that what we feel when we’re together is different somehow.”

      She reluctantly nodded. “Yes.”

      He dropped the other shoe. Hell, a closet full of shoes. “And that knowledge scared you.”

      She hesitated for another telling moment before asking, “Doesn’t it scare you?”

      “Anything I can’t control scares me,” he admitted.

      “So what now?”

      “Now we go to sleep.”

      She didn’t speak for a brief moment, then remarked, “Wait until the cold light of day when we’re both running scared before discussing what happens next?”

      His mouth twitched. Her sense of humor always took him by surprise. It was something he was learning to appreciate about her. “Better than making rash or stupid decisions in the post-heat of passion.”

      “Okay.”

      He slid his fingers into her hair and turned her toward him. “You’re still going to be here when morning comes, right?”

      “As you pointed out, I don’t have a car. Plus, you know where I live.” She gave an exaggerated shiver. “I’d just as soon you not come pounding on my father’s front door demanding to know why I’m not still in your bed.”

      “Fair enough. Tomorrow we’ll discuss this rationally over breakfast like two mature adults.”

      Chase woke to an empty bed and shot upright. Son of a bitch! So much for discussing their situation like two mature adults. He touched the sheet beside him, expecting to find it stone cold. To his relief it was still warm, which meant Emma couldn’t have gotten far. He escaped the bed, and almost tripped over her dress. It rested in the middle of the floor in a crumpled pearl-gray heap of silk where he vaguely remembered tossing it.

      He checked the nightstand table for his car keys. They were there, right beside his BlackBerry. Okay. Chances were Emma hadn’t taken off naked and hitchhiked home. That meant she was around here, someplace. He noticed the bathroom door was closed and smiled.

      Gotcha.

      He padded across the room naked and rapped lightly