The Buchanan’s Redemption (Buchanan Brothers #8)(12)
Author: Alexx Andria

And then the woman stiffened, her thighs quaking, as she came hard. Her naked breasts heaved as she tried to catch her breath but just as she stopped shuddering, Laird shared a look with Vince and Laird flipped the woman over so that she was on all fours and without waiting, plunged himself deep inside her dripping core, ramming his cock into her almost brutally but she seemed to love it, as each thrust elicited a guttural moan. Laird’s ass muscles flexed as each powerful thrust buried his cock deeper into the woman’s body and Emma felt herself growing helplessly aroused until she was squirming against Vince’s hand, pressing against his palm for more pressure. Something was building at her core, something she couldn’t name, but she wanted it — craved it — and it frustrated her that she didn’t know how to attain it but Vince seemed to know and he was effortlessly guiding her there if only she could let go and trust him. But she didn’t trust him and that was the crux of it. She twisted and pushed away from, disoriented and aching from a need she didn’t fully understand. “No,” she cried, and stumbled away from him. “I don’t want this and I don’t want you!”

But even as she shouted the words, the din of the club whisked the sound away and she realized tears were streaming down her cheeks. She didn’t want Vince’s touch. She didn’t want him to be the one who awakened her latent sexuality. He was the exact opposite of everything she appreciated in a man so why was she burning up inside with desperation and need? She turned and bailed, running as quickly as her dream legs would take her, away from Vince and his darkly handsome face and solid strength and away from the scorching shame of her own arousal. “No! No! No!” As she pushed her way through the crowds, she realized she was no longer on the second floor but strung up in the dungeon with her attacker and her confusion coalesced into a cold, greasy knot of fear. There was no one to save her and her attacker was advancing with that wicked implement of torture. She kicked and screamed but no one heard her. No would come. She was in the clutches of a madman drunk on power and if she escaped with her life, it would be a miracle. All those feelings of frantic panic, despair and agony returned in a symphony of pee-your-pants fear and all she could do was scream.

#

Vince heard moaning from the bedroom and immediately got off the phone with Nolan to investigate. At first he puzzled at the faint moans until he recognized the anxious scissoring of her legs beneath the blankets and he grinned. Whatever was happening in her dreams must’ve been pretty hot because her nipples had pearled in her sleep and she was twisting and moving as if someone were caressing her body with phantom hands. Watching her felt wrong but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. She was such an enigma to him, part feral cat — hissing and scratching — and part vulnerable China doll with plainly broken parts. He wondered who was in her dreams that made her wet with need but even as the natural curiosity flitted across his thoughts, he didn’t like the way it made him feel to know that she’d allowed someone — anyone but him — touch her so intimately. But the minute he realized the faint touch of jealousy he shut it down. What the fuck did he care about her sex life? She was nothing to him aside from a detail he had to manage. Just like he had her sister. Once they’d solved the mystery of who was using Malvagio for their own purposes, he’d close the book on Lana and Emma Winters. Emma…her name left a delicious taste in his mouth. Nolan had discovered her identity a few moments ago, which hadn’t been difficult once Emma herself had outed her relationship with Lana. Emma Winters…the name fit her seemingly delicate disposition, which was a total ruse. Emma was pretty damn tough. He’d expected her to crumble after her ordeal but she’d proven to be far tougher than he’d imagined, choosing to bounce back with her fists raised rather than sink into a deep, dark place inside of herself like her sister had. Poor Lana…such a delicate flower. He wasn’t sure who had brought her to the club, no one had copped to it, which was probably because they would’ve been banned for bringing someone who hadn’t been vetted and cleared. Vince kicked himself for not pursuing the matter more aggressively at the time. Now they had a bigger mess. Another moan pulled his attention and he realized she was no longer moving with arousal but jerking in fear. Her lips parted and a whispered cry escaped, her brows pulled in a mask of total terror. He shouldn’t have been so affected by the sight of her whimpering but it pulled at a place inside of him that he’d long since shut down and padlocked. He didn’t stop to question his actions, too intent on soothing her ragged cries and immediately went to her, drawing her gently into his arms. “It’s okay, you’re safe,” he murmured softly against her crown. She hiccupped and clung to him, burying her face against his chest, unknowingly cleaving to him as if he were the only thing between her and death, and his heart stuttered painfully. Someone else had looked to him for protection and he’d utterly failed her. He closed his eyes against the wash of memories that assaulted him, wishing to God he could forget but in all his pleas to heaven and above, none had been answered. He was reminded daily of how he wasn’t worthy of someone to love for his own. Isabel had put her trust in him, yet he’d known her heart had belonged to Dillon. And now he had this little dove who’d managed to stir his blood in a way he didn’t welcome but couldn’t deny? He held her tightly, inhaling the unique scent of her essence and knew she was trouble in more ways than one but he couldn’t bring himself to push her away.

#

Emma awoke with a start and without thinking buried her nose against the solid wall of muscle cradling her. Relief over realizing she’d been suffering from a nightmare and not a reboot of that horrid night blotting out rational thought. But as her nose tingled at the sensual scent of clean male skin and the sharp bite of aftershave, she sucked in a wild breath and pushed hard against the wall of muscle, nearly falling from the bed in shock. “What are you doing?” she demanded to know, pulling the sheets practically to her chin. “Why are you in bed with me?”

Vince climbed from the bed, seemingly unperturbed by her outburst but answered curtly, “You were having a nightmare. I was trying to shut you up before you disturbed the neighbors with your caterwauling.”

“I do not caterwaul.”

“Would you prefer the term screeching?”

No. That wasn’t very flattering either. “Well, I’m fine so keep your meat hooks to yourself.”