Playing For Keeps (The Alpha Brotherhood #3)(33)
Author: Catherine Mann

He clasped her waist and lifted her onto the piano. “I’m doing this. Any objections?”

Her eyes lit with approval. “None whatsoever.”

He stepped closer, parting her legs with his body. Her ankles hooked around his back, and she drew him in with the press of her heels. Her arms looped around his neck. She kissed him fully, with a maturity and passion that made their teenage affair fade in his memory. This moment with her, now, the passion combusting between them, burned away everything else.

She was his again.

The impact of that reality thrummed through his veins. He kissed along her jaw, down the vulnerable curve of her neck. He took his time with her br**sts even though he ached with the need to be inside her.

But he needed to be certain she was every bit as absolutely on fire for him as he was for her. He took one pebbled nipple in his mouth, tempting her with his tongue and his teeth until her head fell back and her hips rolled against him. He held on to control by a thread, such a thin edge he knew he needed to bring her to completion now, because once he buried himself deeply inside her, restraint would be damn difficult to scavenge.

His hands glided down her spine, lowering her back as he kissed lower and lower still until she reclined along the piano. Her beautiful naked body sprawled on top of the sleek ebony grand took his breath away. Her hair trailed over the side of the piano in silken waves. He would never forget this picture of her as long as he lived. She was burned in his memory, on his soul.

He trekked along her body until he reached the core of her, damp and needy for him. He nudged her legs farther apart and nuzzled her essence, tasted her and teased her until her head thrashed back and forth. Her breathy moans of pleasure filled the air with a music that had seduced him then and now.

Her sighs grew to a crescendo that flowed through him, her back arching with the power of her release. He pressed a final kiss to her, then another against her stomach before he stood again.

And as the final ripples of aftershocks shivered through her, he scooped the condom from the corner of the piano and sheathed himself. Clasping her knees, he leaned over her and nudged inside, fully, deeply. He groaned at the total bliss of being exactly where he belonged. The warm clamp of her body gripping, pulsing around him nearly finished him before he could move, and oh, how much he wanted to move inside her. And move again, and again, filling her with each rocking thrust.

Her arms splayed, she gripped the sides of the piano to anchor herself to meet him, locking him more firmly with her legs around his waist. Guiding him. Holding him. With him every second of the way as she came undone with him all over again, their shouts of completion twining together.

Gasping with the power of what they’d shared, he leaned over her, blanketed her. He buried his face in her hair, their naked bodies slick and sealed with perspiration. With each steadying inhale of her sweet, floral scent, he knew.

Even if those threats against her evaporated in the morning, there wasn’t a chance in hell he could let her go.

* * *

Celia sat naked on the silk sheets in Malcolm’s bedroom, her body flushed and languid from making love on the piano. Against the wall. In the bed. In the shower.

Now they were in bed again. Or rather, she was. He’d stepped into the living area for the tray of cheese and fruit.

They’d stayed up most of the night, and not just making love. He’d brought his guitar into the room about halfway through the night and sang her the silliest made-up songs. She’d laughed until her sides ached, then taunted him by taking the guitar and composing her own ditties in return.

They would leave for London in the morning. She could sleep on the plane. For now, she intended to make the most of this night with Malcolm, because thinking about the future felt too uncertain, and she refused—

absolutely refused—to do anything that would risk triggering a panic attack.

Angling to the side, she grasped the neck of his guitar and lifted it from the chair by the bed. She tucked it in place, scooped a pick from the bedside table and plucked through a riff of her own, not as intricate as his by any stretch, but she loved music. Loved that they shared this between them.

Their night together had been too perfect. Too special. She didn’t want to think about threats at home or what the future held.

Malcolm strode through the door, gloriously naked and all man. Muscles filled out his lean lines, sandy-brown hair dusting along his bronzed skin. He set a large silver tray in the middle of the bed, having added bottles of sparkling water to go with the food.

“What are you playing? An ode to my masterful…pick?”

“Ha, you’re a comedian and a rock star. Imagine that.” Laughing, she started to set aside the guitar.

He stopped her with a touch to the wrist. “Don’t let me keep you from playing. I’m enjoying the music and the view.”

“We can ‘play’ more later.” She set aside the guitar and plucked free a handful of grapes. “Right now, I’m starving.”

He settled beside her, careful not to tip the tray on the thick, downy comforter. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to see more of Amsterdam. After we arrive in London tomorrow, we’ll have an evening to ourselves, a day’s break before two nights of concerts, then on to Madrid.” He twisted open one of the chilled bottles and poured water into the two crystal glasses. “I feel bad that you haven’t had much sightseeing or relaxation while we were in some of the most beautiful cities in the world. Choose whatever you want to do on the day off.”

“More of what we’re doing right now.” She pressed a grape to his lips.

“No arguments from me.” He bit free the fruit, nipping her fingers lightly.

Purring, she leaned forward to kiss him quickly, the sweet taste lingering on his mouth. “We’ll lock ourselves in the hotel—”

“Actually, I have personal accommodations in London.” He toyed with a lock of her hair, still damp from the shower they’d shared.

“Oh, that’s right. Your mother has a flat there.” She rocked back, taking her water glass, avoiding his eyes. Would Terri Ann be more open to her presence in Malcolm’s life this go-round? If not, it could be quite awkward staying in an apartment together.

“I have a house in London, as well. I bought it to spend time with her when she’s in town. We don’t step on each other’s toes.” He grinned reassuringly. “Don’t worry. I’m not taking you to my mother’s place, where I would have to sneak into your room in the middle of the night.”