The British Billionaire's Baby (6 page)

“Aren’t I?” He came towards her, his weight dipping the bed on either side of her as he straddled her thighs, forcing her to lie back against the divinely soft coverlet. “Too British for you, Gabrielle?”

Raising her hands, she ran them indulgently over the expanse of his chest, marveling at the unyielding muscle beneath her fingertips. “Oh no. Just enough.”

“Just enough?”

“Mmhm.”

“Unacceptable.” Her gaze jerked to his in surprise to find him gazing at her hotly. “I won’t consider the job done until you’re begging me for more.” Liquid lust shot through her veins as she found herself ready for another round far more quickly than she’d thought possible. Sebastian’s hands encircled her waist, lifting her higher on the bed a moment before the blunt head of his erection slid against her entrance.

He teased her, rubbing the stiff flesh over the cleft of her again and again until she was cursing him, arching her hips in an attempt to have him inside her. Sebastian lowered his head to press his mouth to hers, effectively distracting her for the moment he needed to thrust deep into her clenching wetness.

Gabby gasped against his mouth, reaching up to curl her fingers into his shoulders as he cleaved deep – so deep that she swore she could feel him touch the very core of her. He began a slow, leisurely rhythm within her, his hips positioning against her own so she felt the depth of every thrust. Gabby arched and trembled as he took her, feeling every ridge of his erection as it throbbed within her, brushing places she’d forgotten existed.

Bearing her to the bed, Sebastian groaned, his face buried in her shoulder as he pressed into her with more and more strength. Gabby didn’t realize that it was because she was pleading for him to go harder – faster, until the words were choked off when he touched somewhere within her that made her entire body jerk with sensation. When he exploited the spot again, she screamed – completely unabashedly.

She let Sebastian ply her until her body was a gooey mass of pure delectation, and when her orgasm began to crest, suddenly, she was in no state to prevent it. All she could do was clutch at the coverlet, the pillows, and her lover’s arms – anything to keep her grounded as she hurtled with breakneck speed towards her peak.

When she came again, it was held tightly against Sebastian’s wide chest, trembling as spasms of pleasure shot through her. Above her, Sebastian groaned loudly, his entire form going taut a moment before his hips lurched convulsively against hers, spearing deep. Gabby felt the flood of his orgasm within her and moaned, sagging against the bed at the sensation.

For at least five minutes after, neither of them moved or spoke. Sebastian collapsed atop her with his full, substantial weight, but instead of finding it unbearable, Gabby found the warmth only comforting. How long had it been since sex had left her in such a boneless, gooey puddle of bliss?

Maybe never.

Ultimately, Sebastian rolled from her and onto his back beside her, a long, satisfied sigh escaping him. His hair was mussed from his exertions, and he looked so unlike the proper British persona he’d emitted all night that she couldn’t help but laugh. One of his eyes opened to gaze at her in inquiry. “What’s so funny?”

“You,” She managed through her giggles, turning onto her side to gaze down at him. “I’ve decided that I find you hilarious after all.”

“Do you, now?” Gabrielle gasped as the man suddenly shot upright, pulling her into his embrace to tumble both of them onto the sleekly carpeted floor. Within moments, he’d maneuvered her onto her stomach and was straddling her once more, his renewed erection pressing tantalizingly about the curve of her behind. “Let’s see what we can do about that.”

And they did. At great length.

When Gabby awoke the next morning, every muscle in her body sore from the bevy of sexual adventures she’d experienced the previous night, she couldn’t help but grin. Part of her had been worried that it had, indeed, been a dream. Now, awaking in the middle of the feather bed in Sebastian’s suite, her fears were assuaged.

She sat up, squinting at the bright rays of sunlight beginning to pierce the wooden blinds that covered the windows. Immediately, she knew that she was alone. Sebastian had gone off to do whatever it was that occupied his days, and that was fine with her. Last night had been utterly mind-blowing, more than she’d ever hoped for. As she slid to the side of the bed, her hand fell on a sheet of paper on the pillow beside hers. Arching a brow, she picked it up to read the note that had been written there in a sprawling, masculine script.

Gabby,

I apologize for sneaking out. I’ve several things that I must attend to today and I didn’t want to wake you. I’ve taken the liberty of ordering a hot breakfast for you, which should be waiting in the parlor. Additionally, your dress is being dry cleaned and will be returned to you around ten AM. If you’re in a terrible rush and would prefer it sent to another address, just inform the front desk and they’ll take care of it.

Feel free to make use of the room for as long as you’d like. I likely won’t be back until late. I don’t feel remiss in telling you that I greatly enjoyed our time together. You’re both a talented artist and a tantalizing woman. Manhattan is a more interesting place with you in it.

Best,

-S

Gabrielle’s lips curved upward in a mixture of amusement and admiration. The man was just polite enough without conveying any plans to see her in the future – a tactful dismissal if ever there was one. Luckily enough for him, she wasn’t some clinging, insane psycho bitch. She had enough memories now to keep herself occupied for months, possibly years to come.

Rising from the bed, she set the note aside and made her way into the expansive bathroom, whistling at the veritable miles of polished marble. She was going to take a very long, very indulgent shower. And then, she’d take advantage of the breakfast Sebastian had ordered. She figured she deserved a leisurely, relaxing morning before she faced Tristan’s inevitable wrath.

And even when she did, she knew that the elder man’s concerns would roll off. This morning, she was walking on cloud nine, and she didn’t know of a single thing that could bring her down.

CHAPTER 4 – Two Purple Lines

He was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate.

Though Sebastian had agreed to the deal his business associate had suggested almost an hour ago, the man was still rambling on about profit margins and the resources they would need. It was almost as if he assumed that Sebastian hadn’t read the fifty page report he’d sent him beforehand.

He had, of course, and found everything quite sound. He wouldn’t have agreed to the deal if he didn’t.

So, here he was, staring up at the man as he continued to drone on, his thoughts drifting aimlessly.

Well, not
so
aimlessly. As seemed to be his pattern lately, he worried over his parents and political obligations for a few moments before an image of Gabrielle Arnold slid firmly to the forefront of his mind. She lay beneath him, her back arched as he gripped one of her lovely ankles to his shoulder and drove into her in a mindless rhythm.

Even now, two weeks later, he could remember the way she’d felt around him – her intoxicating moans and the clenching tightness of her inner muscles. Since he’d had her, she’d never been far from his mind, and he found himself struggling to concentrate in meetings that demanded his rapt attention.

He was still in Manhattan and part of him was tempted to reach out and find her again. However, Sebastian knew the folly of such an idea. If he kept Gabby around, then she would eventually learn the truth of his identity, and that was always a catastrophe. While he didn’t particularly fear her trying to steal his money or leech from his fame, he preferred that she think of him as merely Sebastian. Things were easier that way.

He left the meeting flanked by his guards on all sides. Though Amir had tried to chastise him for the little stunt he’d pulled the night of Gabrielle’s exhibition, Sebastian had been far from intimidated. Amir, in reply, had only tightened the security around him and now there seemed to be some sort of standing competition between them to see who came out on top.

When Sebastian pulled his phone from his pocket, he frowned at several missed calls from his mother. He was coming up on the date he was supposed to return to England and she was already trying to set him up with a number of dull young ladies who she planned to have him marry. Really, her obsession with matrimony and heirs was enough to give him a migraine of epic proportions. It was two thousand fifteen, not fourteen hundred fifteen. It really was unhealthy for her to be so preoccupied with duty and family lines.

However, Sebastian knew that for his mother, image was everything. She had long been in favor with the queen and didn’t want to lose that standing, meaning that she and the entire family had to be nothing less than proper members of the upper crust. Which, of course, meant his marrying some dry tea-biscuit of a woman, rearing a child to take the place that he was going to be muscled into.

He would have to appease her, and sooner than he’d like. While he might not be crazy about the station he’d been born into, his parents had raised him the best they could and he owed them respect and loyalty. And so, grudgingly, he agreed to tea with a Lady Matilde Branscombe, daughter of Duke Something or the other of Chevigny. Honestly, what did titles even matter in this day and age? They were more of a nuisance than any distinguishing feature.

So absorbed was Sebastian in his task that he stepped from the curb long before the light turned green – and just in time for the roaring honk of a delivery truck to capture his undivided attention.

**

Gabrielle stood in front of her most recent half-finished work. The vivid purples and lime greens stood out wonderfully, and as she stared at them, she contemplated her next move. She had a lot of space to fill; after all, she hadn’t expected for her exhibition to be near the success that it had been.

After Tristan had reprimanded her for sneaking out on her own event – something for which Gabby had felt not the smallest bit of guilt, still being wrapped in the glow of Sebastian’s sexual attentions – he had revealed to her that she had sold her paintings. Excited, the young woman had of course demanded to know exactly which paintings she’d sold.

When Tristan had told her, absolutely deadpan, that all of them were gone, she’d been shocked beyond all belief. All twenty pieces! It was impossible! She knew she’d generated a buzz at
Estelle’s
, but for all the paintings to be sold? That was well over ten thousand dollar profit.

She hadn’t been able to believe it until Phillip had presented her with the check. Even now, weeks later, she was over the moon about actually having some padding in her account. For once, she was able to eat more than instant noodles and honey buns. She only had to wonder if she’d ever be able to book another exhibition with the same success.

Tristan hadn’t been able to tell her much about who’d bought her paintings; all he knew himself was that all twenty pieces had been bought by a solitary anonymous and very wealthy soul. As Gabby reviewed the faces she’d encountered at the event, she tried to guess who it might be.

This was a bit difficult, as it was very hard to remember much else besides the time she had spent with the engaging Sebastian. The mere memory of the suave, sophisticated, gorgeous man was enough to break her out in goose bumps. And the things he’d done to her body? Positively sinful. Gabby wagered she was ruined for every man in her foreseeable future.

“How’s work coming?” She looked over her shoulder to see Tristan entering with his customary tray. However, instead of inciting her hunger, the smell of the soup and sandwich he’d brought immediately turned her stomach. As it lurched, Gabby swallowed thickly. It had seemed as of late that her sense of smell and taste were inexplicably heightened. Things that hadn’t bothered her in the least before now sent her out of the room. She’d become very picky about textures – and the decadent deserts that used to tempt now made her queasy.

It was an incredibly odd phenomenon, even effecting her at work. Right after she had eaten was out of the question, as most of the time she wasn’t sure whether or not the meal she’d consumed would stay down.

“It’s…it’s fine.” She eyed the tray wearily as Tristan set it on a table nearby. For a moment, the room before her wobbled precariously and a low sound of dismay escaped her. Christ, what was the matter with her? She’d never been prone to sickness. She might have come down with a common cold three or four times over the course of her entire life. If this was some kind of stomach virus, it was damned inconvenient. She couldn’t work when she pleased and she was damned tired of her stomach being in perpetual disarray.

“Are you alright? You don’t look well, darling.”

As Tristan stepped toward her, a sudden weakness seeped through her and she swayed on the spot, clutching the table beside her for purchase. That only worsened the sensation, however, as the savory smell of the soup struck her head on and her stomach turned. Raising her hand to her mouth, Gabby rushed unsteadily down the stairs and into the toilet in the landing, where she proceeded to promptly empty the contents of her belly.