Free Surrender to a Donovan (Kimani Romance) by A.C. Arthur Page B

it and fastened the new one in place. Painless, he thought with a smile to himself.
    “Pajamas,” she said.
    He took the pajamas out of her hand. They were lavender with yellow teddy bears. Cute, he thought as he slipped her feet inside first, then her arms. He was snapping it up the center when Tate reached over the crib and activated some sort of musical device. It was soft and low and sent reflections of slow-moving clouds along the ceiling of the canopy.
    “She won’t stay asleep in the crib without hearing the music first,” Tate told him as she moved toward the door.
    Sean stood there for a few more moments, looking down at the quietly sleeping baby. He could do this again, wanted to do this again.
    “Goodnight, Sean,” Tate said from the doorway.
    He cleared his throat and moved to the door. “She’s a wonderful child, Tate. You did good.”
    She smiled. After a night of dodging his questions, looking worried and uncomfortable, she’d finally smiled.
    And those dimples reached right inside Sean’s chest to grip his heart, fast and hard.
    “She’s my best achievement,” she said finally.
    “She’s pretty fantastic.”
    He lifted a hand to her cheek and let it sit there as he stared at her. Words weren’t coming as fast as he would like, and that wasn’t normal for Sean. He always knew what he wanted to say and when he wanted to say it. But at this moment he didn’t.
    “You should go,” she said, taking a step back so that his hand dropped from her face.
    “What are you afraid of, Tate? Is it me? Or is it any man?”
    “I’m not afraid of you or anyone else. I just don’t want what you do. I work for your company, and I’m grateful for this new opportunity you’re affording me. But that’s all there is between us. All there will ever be.”
    Could such a cold blow come from a woman with such warm eyes and a mouth that had just been smiling at him? Obviously it could.
    “So you’re afraid of getting involved with the boss?” he said, amending his question.
    “I’m not afraid of anything,” she snapped.
    “Really?”
    He moved closer and she backed right into the hallway wall until there was nowhere else for her to go. Her arms shifted from her sides to a defensive stance folded over her chest. She took that stance often enough that he was beginning to read the warning signs. But they weren’t going to stop him, not this time. He pressed even closer. “Are you sure you’re not afraid of me? Of what I make you feel?” he whispered, lowering his face closer to hers.
    “You don’t make me feel anything,” she said, but her breath was soft and airy.
    “I don’t make you feel like you want to make love? Like you want my hands on your body, my lips on yours?”
    She shook her head, her lips clamping tight as she swallowed.
    “Prove it,” he said, touching his lips lightly to hers. “Prove you’re not afraid.”
    His lips slid along hers once more.
    “How?” she breathed against him.
    “Kiss me. Just this once, Tate, kiss me.”
    With slow, even strokes his tongue moved along her lower lip, touched the crease between and then swiped over her top lip.
    “Sean,” she whispered.
    And he took that as his cue. Delving deep and without remorse, his tongue touched hers in a scorching connection. His lips covered hers, his head slanted, hands grasping her shoulders. He kissed her like he’d never kissed any other woman in his life. Sinking, floating, sinking, drowning—that’s what it felt like to kiss Tate Dennison. She was pulling him in deeper even though her hands hadn’t touched him at all. Her head tilted opposite his, until her mouth was opening willingly, her tongue taking wantonly. And he indulged—damn did he indulge—in the sweetest torture he’d ever endured.
    When her palms flattened against his chest, Sean pushed further, plunged deeper and was rewarded with her hungry moan as she pressed her body against his. He’d known it. And it wasn’t just his Donovan ego,