Read Online The Marriage Ultimatum (City of Dreams Series) by Charlotte O'Shay - Free Book Online
Authors: Charlotte O'Shay
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an expert in keeping her own personal information to herself, Sabrina sensed he was equally adept. Which was quite a trick when you owned and led a multinational company and were forced to be in the public eye constantly, like it or not.
He’d gone ballistic at the media claim he’d fathered a child out of wedlock. Some guys, the players of the world, took that kind of accusation or revelation as a badge of masculine prowess. But then again, they were saying she was the baby mama, an office worker from the most junior level of his firm who lived in a tenement walk up. Not the kind of relationship he would want to publicize.
But there was more to it than that. He believed she was setting him up with that baby daddy story at the behest of others. The more she thought about who those others could be, the more her head ached.
Coffee mug in hand, she wandered to the back door in time to see Vlad striding up the path through the teeming rain like a warrior come home from battle.
After he pushed through the door, he pulled off his raingear, achingly vital in jeans, with his shirtsleeves rolled up over muscled forearms.
Sabrina barely resisted the urge to loop her arms around his neck. Shocked at that wayward impulse, she stepped back straight into the marble center island that bisected the kitchen.
“How is it out there?” She gulped, trying to get a grip on her senses, all of which had gone from groggy to overload in a matter of seconds.
“Lines down, still raining, ground saturated,” he said, helping himself to a mug of black coffee into which he liberally spooned brown sugar. “This property is safe enough right now. But as you walk along the shore, trees are down everywhere.”
Sabrina flashed on an image of their row house in Brooklyn. They were so close to the docks. Would the water reach them? Was it still storming in Brooklyn?
It was as if Vlad could read her mind.
“I’ve been in touch with my assistant who I’ve deputized to advise me of any developments. Good news is your child’s fine. Bad news is we’re still very much in the news, maybe as the frivolous counterpoint to the hurricane.”
He shook his head as he said the word frivolous . Clearly, he thought the situation anything but.
He rubbed at the beard darkening his jawline. The soft rasp of his stubble against the palm of his hand sparked a wicked arrow of feminine response deep inside her, and Sabrina pulled in a sharp breath.
His mouth quirked up in that way he had. “Going to go clean up.”
Sabrina just stood there. She could not have taken her gaze off his face for all of the chocolate at Godiva.
“What?” he said. His eyes darkened to navy.
“I…” Rarely at a loss for something to say, Sabrina was having trouble making her mouth form the words. “I like it.” There, she’d said it.
“You like?” he said the words slowly as if he were defusing a bomb.
“I…I like your beard, your stubble, whatever you call it.”
Her face burned and she was babbling, but the words were out.
In one long stride, he closed the gap between them, stopping only when his boots brushed her bare feet, and folded his arms across his broad chest. Sabrina’s back pressed against the center island, her pounding heart pushing her chest against his voluminous sweatshirt.
Sabrina held his gaze as he reached out one long finger to stroke along her jaw. Nothing had ever felt better than the sensation of his calloused finger moving slowly along her skin, and she inched closer to that source of pleasure.
“I like that you like it, moyo malenki . But your skin is tender, and I would hate to mark it.”
He delivered the words in a low growl shifting against her as he spoke. She felt the hard press of his erection against her stomach, and she knew he wanted her too.
His head lowered, and then she let her lashes fall down at the welcome touch of those hard lips on her own.
A sweet fire swept through her, and she reached up to circle her arms around
He’d gone ballistic at the media claim he’d fathered a child out of wedlock. Some guys, the players of the world, took that kind of accusation or revelation as a badge of masculine prowess. But then again, they were saying she was the baby mama, an office worker from the most junior level of his firm who lived in a tenement walk up. Not the kind of relationship he would want to publicize.
But there was more to it than that. He believed she was setting him up with that baby daddy story at the behest of others. The more she thought about who those others could be, the more her head ached.
Coffee mug in hand, she wandered to the back door in time to see Vlad striding up the path through the teeming rain like a warrior come home from battle.
After he pushed through the door, he pulled off his raingear, achingly vital in jeans, with his shirtsleeves rolled up over muscled forearms.
Sabrina barely resisted the urge to loop her arms around his neck. Shocked at that wayward impulse, she stepped back straight into the marble center island that bisected the kitchen.
“How is it out there?” She gulped, trying to get a grip on her senses, all of which had gone from groggy to overload in a matter of seconds.
“Lines down, still raining, ground saturated,” he said, helping himself to a mug of black coffee into which he liberally spooned brown sugar. “This property is safe enough right now. But as you walk along the shore, trees are down everywhere.”
Sabrina flashed on an image of their row house in Brooklyn. They were so close to the docks. Would the water reach them? Was it still storming in Brooklyn?
It was as if Vlad could read her mind.
“I’ve been in touch with my assistant who I’ve deputized to advise me of any developments. Good news is your child’s fine. Bad news is we’re still very much in the news, maybe as the frivolous counterpoint to the hurricane.”
He shook his head as he said the word frivolous . Clearly, he thought the situation anything but.
He rubbed at the beard darkening his jawline. The soft rasp of his stubble against the palm of his hand sparked a wicked arrow of feminine response deep inside her, and Sabrina pulled in a sharp breath.
His mouth quirked up in that way he had. “Going to go clean up.”
Sabrina just stood there. She could not have taken her gaze off his face for all of the chocolate at Godiva.
“What?” he said. His eyes darkened to navy.
“I…” Rarely at a loss for something to say, Sabrina was having trouble making her mouth form the words. “I like it.” There, she’d said it.
“You like?” he said the words slowly as if he were defusing a bomb.
“I…I like your beard, your stubble, whatever you call it.”
Her face burned and she was babbling, but the words were out.
In one long stride, he closed the gap between them, stopping only when his boots brushed her bare feet, and folded his arms across his broad chest. Sabrina’s back pressed against the center island, her pounding heart pushing her chest against his voluminous sweatshirt.
Sabrina held his gaze as he reached out one long finger to stroke along her jaw. Nothing had ever felt better than the sensation of his calloused finger moving slowly along her skin, and she inched closer to that source of pleasure.
“I like that you like it, moyo malenki . But your skin is tender, and I would hate to mark it.”
He delivered the words in a low growl shifting against her as he spoke. She felt the hard press of his erection against her stomach, and she knew he wanted her too.
His head lowered, and then she let her lashes fall down at the welcome touch of those hard lips on her own.
A sweet fire swept through her, and she reached up to circle her arms around
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