All Or Nothing (The Alpha Brotherhood #2)(25)
Author: Catherine Mann

The lingering scent of his aftershave mixed with the musk of perspiration on his skin. She drew in the smell of him, the feel of him, until even the silk of her nightgown felt itchy against her oversensitized skin. The hard wall of his muscled chest wasn’t the one of a paper pusher or a man who’d become soft from years of high living. He could take charge in every realm, intellectually and physically, and that duality turned her on all the more.

He shouldered open his door, revealing a massive teak bed sprawling in front of a window overlooking the river. Then she didn’t see anything other than the linen drapes on the ceiling over the bed as he settled her in the middle of a simple cotton comforter. He angled to his suitcase on the stand, pulled out a box of condoms and tossed it on the bed before leaning over her again.

With competent and quick hands he bunched her gown in his fists and swept it away. The breeze over her skin made her want the press of his body but he sprinkled kisses along her stomach, took the edge of her bikini panties between his teeth and tugged. She thought of the panties he’d torn from her body in the elevator, of how he’d given her such an intense release.

At the first nuzzle between her legs, her knees fell apart and her bones turned to liquid. The flick of his tongue and gentle suckling brought her to the edge too fast, too soon. She clawed at his shoulders, drawing him up, but he stopped, teasing the tight nipple the way he’d licked and laved the tight bud of nerves.

He had her writhing on the comforter, aching to take this further, faster. His hand slid down to replace his tongue with a knowing touch. He inched his way back up her body until his mouth settled on her breast and his fingers between her legs teased in synchronicity, playing her perfectly. He knew her, just like the night at La Bohème. Except now she was naked and they were alone so he had free rein for more. He stroked the tight bundle of nerves with his thumb while sliding two fingers deep, crooking at just the right spot.

She gasped and pressed harder against his hand even as she wanted all of him. “No more playing. I just want you inside me.”

“And you can be damn sure that’s exactly where I want to be.” He rolled her nipple lightly between his teeth. “But I want that—want you—so much and it’s been so long, I’m not going to last. I need to take care of you first.”

She circled him, stroking…her thumb rolling over the damp tip. And yes, she was every bit as close to coming apart.

“That works both ways you know, the part about having gone without sex for too damn long.” She reached for the condom box and tugged free a packet. “No more waiting. If we come fast, then we get to linger later, but I can’t wait anymore.”

Determined to delay not a second longer, she sheathed him with a familiarity and newness that she still didn’t quite comprehend. The fan rustled the curtains around their haven.

He held her face, looked into her eyes and said, “There hasn’t been anyone since you. No one comes close to turning me inside out the way you do. And even when I resent it like hell, there’s no denying it. I only want you.”

His words stilled her hands. No one since her? For three years?

She wanted to believe him, ached to believe him. Because she felt the same. She even understood the part about resenting the way this feeling for each other took over her body and her life.

And then he kissed her. He thrust his tongue as he pushed inside her. Filling her, stretching her with more of that newness after so damn long away from each other. The sweet abrasion of his chest rasped along her ni**les. The hard roped muscles of his legs flexed with each pump of his body. She dug her heels into the mattress and angled up against him until the gathering tension in her pulled even tighter, bringing her closer.

Her hand flung out to grab the headboard, the intense sweetness was almost too much. She wanted to hang on to the sensations as tightly as she held the headboard, but he’d taken her too close to the edge with his mouth and his skillful touch.

One more deep stroke finished her. Pleasure rippled from her core, pulling through her, outward until the roots of her hair tingled. She bowed upward into him, even as her head thrashed on the pillow.

He chanted encouragement as her release pulsed and clamped around him, his voice growing hoarse until he hissed between gritted teeth. And while she’d doubted so much about their relationship, she knew he’d told her the truth about the past three years. He belonged to her.

She hugged him in the aftermath as he collapsed on top of her. The ceiling fan overhead click, click, clicked, gusts shifting the drapes around the towering teak bed. She trailed her fingers along his broad back, her foot up his thigh, and didn’t take for granted the feel of him.

Not anymore.

It was one thing to be angry at him for the past thirty-six months. And another altogether to accept he’d been every bit as torn apart by their breakup as she had. With what he’d shared about his father tonight, she started to realize she’d never fully grasped what made him tick. Maybe if she dug for more clues about his relationship with his father in particular, she might understand how he’d arrived at his place of such emotional isolation.

Because she realized more than ever that she couldn’t just walk away again.

* * *

Conrad held his wife spooned against him while she slept. She was back in his bed. He’d won.

And he didn’t feel one bit peaceful about letting Jayne go.

Moonbeams reflected on the river water, the dock light glowing. If she was awake, he would have liked to sit out there with her and just listen to the night sounds, then walk with her up to the house, shower with her in the outdoor stall with the stars above them.

He’d made love to her twice more and still it wasn’t enough. He rested his chin on her head, the sweat of their lovemaking lightly sealing their bodies, her spine against his chest. Each breath pressed her closer again, stirring his hard-on to a painful intensity. His hand slid around to cup her breast, filling his palm with her creamy roundness. She moaned in her sleep, her nipple drawing up into a tight bead.

She was in his blood. Rather than clearing away the past, making love with her had churned up all the frustration of the past three years. The thought of letting her go—unbearable. But he couldn’t envision taking her back to Monte Carlo.

Although, how to blend her into his old life could be a moot point. If his cover had been blown, his Interpol work would be over. He angled to kiss her shoulder over the light red mark of his beard bristle from last night. He could have Jayne back and no more unexplained absences.