All Or Nothing (The Alpha Brotherhood #2)(12)
Author: Catherine Mann

Bittersweet pleasure rippled through her, reminding her how good they’d been together. Her br**sts ached for his touch and she wriggled to get nearer, pressing against the hard wall of his chest. She struggled to get closer, swinging a knee over and bumping the gearshift.

“Damn it,” Conrad’s muffled curse whispered against her mouth but the thought that he might stop was more than she could bear.

She shoved her hands under his tuxedo coat, sinking her fingernails into the fine fibers of his shirt. Three years of being without sex—without him—crested inside her, demanding she follow through. His hand skimmed up her leg, tunneling under her dress as he’d done years ago. The rasp of his calluses along her skin ignited a special kind of pleasure and the promise of more.

Except that private theater box had been a lot roomier than his Jaguar. And she wanted more than just his hands on her.

“Take me…” she gasped.

“I intend to do just that.” His voice rumbled in his chest, vibrating against her.

“Not here. Home. Take me home.”

He angled back to look at her as if gauging the risk of pausing. He grazed his knuckles along her cheek. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” As sure as anyone could be about making love with the person who’d broken her heart. She scored her nails down his back. “I know what I want. I won’t change my mind about being with you tonight.”

It wasn’t a matter of winning or losing anymore. It was just a matter of stopping the ache and praying for some of that peace. Because wanting him was tearing her apart.

Angling into him, she nipped his bottom lip. “Conrad, I think it’s time we break in your new furniture.”

* * *

Conrad hauled Jayne into the private elevator and willed the doors to close faster. He may have hoped to clear the air of past issues during their drive before jumping right to sex, but now that Jayne had taken that decision out of his hands, he was all in.

He’d made record time driving back to the casino, determined to get to the penthouse before she changed her mind. God help him—both of them—if she backed out now. After tasting her again, touching her again, he was on fire from wanting to be with her. Wanting to bury himself heart deep inside her until they both forgot about everything but how damn good they were together.

Until in some way he made up for how deeply he’d let Jayne down.

He jammed his key card into the slot and the elevator doors slid closed. The mirrored walls reflected multiple images of his wife, tousled and so damn beautiful she took his breath away.

“Come here, now,” she demanded, taking control in that way that turned him inside out. She grabbed his jacket and tugged him to her. “You’ve been tormenting me all night with the way you look at me.”

He pressed her against the cool wall as the elevator lifted. “You’ve been tormenting me since the day I met you.”

“What are we going to do about that?” She arched against him, her hips a perfect fit against his.

“I suggest we keep right on doing this until we can figure out how we’re ever going to quit.” He angled his mouth over hers, teasing her with light brushes and gentle tugs on her bottom lip.

“That makes absolutely no sense,” she whispered between kisses.

Nothing about the way he felt for her made a damn bit of sense. But then he’d wanted her since the first time he saw her. That had never changed, never lightened up. He gathered her hair in his hand and—

“Conrad,” she gasped, “stop the elevator.”

“You want me to stop?” Denial spiked through him.

“No, I want you to stop the elevator—” she kissed him “—between floors—” stroked him “—so we don’t have to wait a second longer.”

He slapped the elevator button.

Jayne opened her arms, and he didn’t even have to think. He thrust his hands into her hair, the familiar glide of those silky strands against his skin as arousing as always. Images scrolled through his mind of her slithering the blond mass over his chest as she nibbled her way down, down, down farther still until her mouth closed around him… Desire pounded in his ears in time with the bass beat of the elevator music.

As if she heard his thoughts, understood his need to have her touch him again, her fingers grazed down the front of his pants, rubbing along the length of him until he thought he would come right then and there. He gripped her wrist and eased her hand away. Soon, he promised himself, soon they could have it all.

Her hips rocked against him, and he pressed his thigh between her legs, rewarded by her breathy moan of pleasure. The gauzy length of her gown offered little barrier between him and the hot core of her.

Memories of that night at La Bohème seared his brain and fueled his imagination. He bunched up her dress in his fist, easing the fabric up her creamy-white legs until he reached the top of her thighs. Only a thin scrap of satin stayed between him and his goal. Between him and her.

They were completely alone in the privacy of his domain. And even if someone dared step into his realm, he shielded her with his body. Never would he leave her vulnerable to anyone or anything. She was his to protect, to cherish.

To please.

He tucked a finger into the thin string along the side and twisted until…the fabric gave way. She purred into his mouth and angled toward his touch. He wadded the panties in his fist and stuffed the torn scrap into his pocket before returning to her.

Stroking from her knee to her thigh again, he nudged her dress up until his fingers found her sweet, moist cleft. He stroked along her lips, swollen with the passion he’d given her. Without rushing, he stroked and explored, giving her time to grow accustomed to his touch, to let her desire build while he kissed her, murmuring against her mouth how damn much she drove him crazy. His other hand cupped the perfect curve of her bottom and lifted her toward the glide of his caress.

Her gasps grew faster, heavier, the rise and fall of her br**sts against his chest making him throb to be inside her. He slipped two fingers into the hot dampness of her, the velvety walls already pulsing around him with the first beginnings of her orgasm. He knew her body, every telltale sign. His fingers still buried deep within her, he pressed his palm against the tight nub of nerves and circled. She writhed against him in response, gasping for him not to stop, she was so close…

He burned to drop to his knees to finish her with his mouth, to fill his senses with the essence of her, but he didn’t dare risk leaving her that exposed unless they were behind locked doors. But soon, before the night was over he would make love to her with more than his hand. He would bring her to shattering completion again and again, watching the bliss play across her face.