Honorable Intentions (The Landis Brothers #5)(21)
Author: Catherine Mann

He scooped up Gabrielle against his chest, her satin robe parting to reveal a nightshirt. His mind zipped back to the uncomfortable interruption this morning in the library. She wasn’t going to be caught half nak*d again.

Damn shame—as long as he was her only audience.

Gabrielle stirred in his arms. “Hank?”

“Shhh… Go back to sleep. I’m just moving you to the bed so you’ll be more comfortable.”

Her arm draped around his neck, her eyes groggy. “Wait. Put me down. Almost done with the paper I have to turn in.”

“Is it due tomorrow?” If so, he would be right there beside her, proofreading, if she needed him.

“Nuh-uh.” Sleepy fog cleared from her eyes and they went smoky with awareness. She rested her other hand on his chest, her fingers tracing the vee of his collar.

“Then you have time to finish it later.”

“You’re right. I do have time.” She slipped a button free, then another. “For this.”

She took his earlobe between her teeth and nipped.

A bolt of desire shot straight to his groin. He tightened his grip on her, pressing her closer. She smelled like lavender and Gabrielle, the scent so familiar now he could taste her on his tongue. He fought back the urge to take her right here.

He set her on the bed. More like, he dropped her and took a step back, trying his damnedest to be a gentleman. “You really should sleep.”

“I’ve gotten plenty of sleep this past week, thanks to all the help from you and Leonie.” She shrugged off her robe and whipped her nightshirt over her head, wispy blond hairs clinging to the cotton before it fell away. “Trust me to know what I need.”

Call him a selfish bastard, but as he looked at her lounging on the bed wearing only a sea-green pair of bikini panties, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her no.

“What exactly do you need?” He took off his watch and placed it on the bedside table with deliberate precision, setting his leather wallet alongside the lamp. He pulled a condom from his billfold, wanting her to know he would always protect her in every way possible. “Because I really want to hear every detail.”

“You, here, doing whatever I say.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Oh, really. You want—”

“Control. Do you have a problem with that?”

The challenge in her green eyes cranked him higher, his body more than happy to comply.

“None whatsoever.” He tugged his shirt off, stepped out of his jeans and slipped into bed next to her. “What are you going to do with me now that you have me?”

Grabbing his shoulders, she shoved him onto his back, straddling him. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

“And how long will I have to wait?” He throbbed against the warm press of her satin underwear.

“Patience…” She wriggled just enough to tempt him without taking him over the edge. Biting back a groan, he squeezed his eyes shut, cupping her waist and guiding her faster against him.

She shifted to the side and he moved to catch her. Except she wasn’t going anywhere. She tugged the sash from her robe and teased it along his chest in a slithering path. A playful smile spread over her face and she leaned forward to—

Holy crap, she was blindfolding him.

Wrapping the tie around and over his eyes twice, she sealed it in place with a kiss, pinning his wrists to the bed. And sure, he could have broken free and pulled it off at any time, but who was he to argue if she wanted control?

Willing his arms to relax, he sank back into the mattress, his head digging into the pillows and anchoring the blindfold. Her purr of approval stroked him with a heated sigh against his chest, soon replaced by her fingers. She used her touch, her lips, the glide of her hair along his skin in a feathery path that mirrored his game with the mask. She teased the silky strands along his shoulders over his chest until his skin tightened at the phantom touch.

Lower, lower still she trailed her hair until…the slide of the strands over his erection threatened to finish him before they’d even started. The lavender scent of her clung to the sash, filling him with each labored breath he dragged in.

Her hands replaced the feathery locks, stroking, caressing, driving him damn near crazy with wanting her. Then her mouth closed over him. His hands twisted in the sheets as he fought back the need to shout, she felt so damn good.

He reached to pull her up, and she shoved his arms away, continuing to take him higher with her lips, her tongue and then to hell with the blindfold. He ripped the sash from his face. “Okay, you win. If I don’t get my hands on you soon, I’m going to lose my mind.”

She pressed a kiss to his stomach, purring against his skin. “I’m all yours.”

Thank God.

Hank hauled her up, flipping her to her back. He grabbed the condom from the bedside table, sheathing himself in record time before he thrust hilt deep inside her.

Holding her hands over her head, he drove into her again and again, watching her face to make sure she was every bit as crazed as he felt. Out of control? Totally. Something about this woman stole reasonable thought, tipping his whole world upside down.

She looked back up at him, her pupils wide and her chest flushing with pleasure, the signs he needed that she was close, too. Still, he held back, waiting, watching until…he saw her fly apart.

Only then did he allow himself to dive in with her, a hot release pumping from him, driving him into her again and again and even as he came, he already wanted more of her.

All of her. Gabrielle would be his wife and to hell with everything else.

And he intended to press hard and press now to make that happen before she slipped away.

* * *

Standing in front of the full-length mirror on the armoire door, Gabrielle struggled with the zipper on her new dress, scared of yanking too hard for fear she would damage the gown that cost more than she earned in a month. Who’d have thought a photo shoot of a “family dinner” would include a floor-length formal, complete with a manicure and an up-do? The nails and hair, she could live with and actually enjoyed.

But she’d been vaguely ill when she realized her clothing designer was the same one who’d once decked out Reese Witherspoon for the Oscars. Ginger had told her not to worry. They would be donating their dresses to a charity that raised funds for breast cancer survivors. Her conscience slightly assuaged, she’d accepted the “loaner” for the evening’s photo shoot.

The plum-colored satin slid over her skin with reminders of all the ways she and Hank had used her robe’s sash the night before. The power play of blindfolds and, later, bound hands had continued until nearly sunrise, leaving them both panting and depleted.

Their lovemaking also left her even more confused as to how they would blend their lives. She couldn’t miss the seriousness in Hank’s eyes, the intensity in his every move. Things were moving so fast. She wanted more time to figure things out before—if—they went public, but that option had ended the second his family walked into the foyer unannounced.

A tap sounded on the door. “It’s me. Hank. Are you about ready?”

Pressing a palm to her chest, she held the dress in place, while hitching up the hem with her other hand and padding barefoot to let him in. She unlocked the door and started to tell him she’d changed her mind about being in the photo shoot, such a public declaration of their relationship no matter what his stepmother said.

She darn near swallowed her tongue. Hank in his formal air force uniform filled the doorway and her eyes. Rows of medals gleamed on his chest, his silver aviator wings pinned above them. She’d seen him dressed this way before, but she’d always been with Kevin, so she’d worked to keep her distance, putting those walls in place between them.

Right now, Hank was one-hundred-percent touchable. Her hand fell to rest right over his heart. “You take my breath away.”

“I should be saying that to you,” he said, without even looking at her dress. His eyes stayed firmly on her face.

She touched his tie, his chin, his mouth that had brought her so much pleasure the night before. If only they could lock themselves in her room. But they couldn’t. There were people waiting downstairs and a photo shoot to complete.

Which reminded her— “I need your help zipping my dress, please.”

“As long as I get to unzip it later.” He backed her into the bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him. He set something on top of the armoire, then turned her around. He kissed her neck before she could look at what he’d brought in with him. His lips lingered as he inched the zipper up. Her head fell back until he grazed his mouth over hers.

Easing away, she said, “I’m not sure I should be in the pictures. What if people assume…more than they should?”

“They’ll assume you’re my date, which you are. They may even assume we’re lovers, which is true, as well.” His hands tracked the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips. “Or they’ll assume the photos have been staged with a drop-dead sexy model on my arm.”

He palmed her stomach and pulled her flush against his thickening arousal.

“Hank, are you sure we can’t just ditch the whole thing? Leonie already has Max for the night. We could lock ourselves in here or walk by Lake Ponchartrain holding hands.”

“Either option sounds infinitely more exciting than this dinner. If you’re serious about wanting to ditch the gathering, then that’s what we’ll do.”

She was tempted to do just that, but Ginger’s words filtered through, reminding her how he always put other people’s needs first. “Your family will be upset with you, and I don’t want to cause trouble.”

“Their opinion has never stopped me before.”

Except if he cut out on his stepmother’s plans—plans Ginger had concocted just to be a part of his life—there would be deep disappointment. No matter how many boundaries he put in place, Hank clearly loved his relatives, even if he preferred a little less togetherness than the others did.

She rested her arms over his as he hugged her from behind. Smiling at him in the mirror, she willed her nervous doubts away. “Let’s go to dinner, and then we can take that walk along the lake.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.” Sort of.

“Okay, then. We have a date for later. As for now…” He leaned past her to pull a flat velvet jewelers box off the top of the armoire.

He creaked open the lid, revealing a wide bracelet band of diamonds with matching chandelier earrings.

She gasped, in awe of the beauty and in horror at what the price tag must have been. “Hank, I can’t—”

“Wear them for the photos,” he interrupted. He clasped the bracelet around her wrist and passed her the earrings with enough diamonds to make the down payment on a house. “If you have any arguments, take it up with Ginger.”

Even as he said it, she knew he was the one behind the jewels. She put on one earring, then the other. “And if I lose one of these in the soup?”

He grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him, tiered diamonds brushing her neck. “Gabrielle, they’re just earrings.”