Playing For Keeps (The Alpha Brotherhood #3)(39)
Author: Catherine Mann

He growled, nipping her shoulder. “You know I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.”

“Do you know how many nights I laid awake thinking of you, your memory making me ache from wanting you? The sound of your voice over the radio in the morning would catch me unawares, leaving me needing you. Needing this.”

She sank down, taking him deep inside her, fully and quickly. A raw groan of pleasure burst from his mouth, and she reveled in knowing he was every bit as helpless when it came to this attraction. She rolled her hips against his, arched her back for his attentive mouth on her br**sts. Each flick of his tongue, every suckle followed by a puff of air drew the tension tighter inside her. He knew just how to play her body, strum her most sensitive spots, stroke and pluck just so until the need to come apart in his arms was almost painfully intense.

Water sluiced around them as they moved together, her arms locked tightly around him. The wall scones flickered shadows over the hard planes of his face, teasing her with glimpses of his pleasure. His hands cupped her bottom, lifting and guiding her as he thrust upward. And her body answered, gripping him, holding him as pleasure built, higher until…

Fulfillment showered through her, sparkling through every fiber of her being. Gasping again and again with aftershocks rocking her, she scored Malcolm’s shoulders, sinking in her nails as she held on. Her arms trembled. His grip tightened as he thrust faster and faster until, yes, he joined her.

And she held him close as his pleasure rocked through him, his breath hot on her neck, his beard a delicious abrasion against her temple as they clung to each other.

Even afterward, she stayed tangled with him, her legs wrapped around his waist now as she sat with him still inside her. Her skin cooled, even with the water steaming all around them. The lap of the bubbling tide stroking over her.

She gasped against the damp skin of his neck. She wanted him, and God help her, she loved him, too. She always had.

But could she see this through with Malcolm, sign on for more? Could she live this out-of-control life with a man who played to sold-out arenas and royalty? Even if she could find her way around the anxiety of that lifestyle, there was the whole Interpol bombshell and his disdain for spending time in Azalea.

Desperately, she wanted to find a way through this crazy maze of a life he’d built for himself. An amazing life, without question, but it wasn’t hers. It wasn’t even close to what she wanted for herself… Well, maybe the spa part could stay….

God, she was a mess. She needed to find a path they could walk together.

Because if she didn’t, staying with him only prolonged the inevitable, increasing the pain of losing Malcolm all over again.

Twelve

Malcolm sprawled in a chair on the lanai, brunch having been set up by a service his mother had arranged to make discreet appearances and speedy exits throughout their brief stay. He scrolled through his email while waiting for Celia to finish her shower.

Celia.

His hand slowed on the tablet, his eyes scanning the elaborate garden he’d had planted for her, not even knowing if she would ever see it. His gaze settled on a rose bush climbing along an archway over a bench. How many times over the past couple of years had he envisioned her there reading or singing? She’d been with him in his every thought over the years, every decision he made guided by what he’d wanted to give her.

Whatever it took, wherever his manager told him he needed to be to advance his career, he’d done it. He realized now that he’d done all this for her. He’d been keeping track of her because he wanted her back in his life. Protecting her had just been an excuse. He was so close to having what he’d dreamed of as a heartbroken kid. But he refused to let the surge of victory distract him from remembering his duty—making sure she stayed out of harm’s way until Salvatore could get a lock on who’d left those threatening notes.

“Good morning.” Celia smiled in the open French doors, the sun shining on her dusky beauty. Her hair glided over her shoulder in a side ponytail.

She strolled through the door. Her simple sundress, long and vibrantly blue, caressed her legs as she walked closer. Her hand glided over his chest as she dipped to kiss him, a hint of rose-petal perfume still clinging to her skin with reminders of how they’d made love in the spa for hours. If only they could block out the world awhile longer.

Protective urges surged through him, and he wondered why the hell it was proving so difficult to track down the person responsible for threatening Celia. He forced his fists to unclench and then stroked her ponytail. “Good morning to you, too, beautiful. Brunch? There’s plenty.”

He pulled out a chair for her at the table set with a full English fry-up of eggs, bacon, sausages, fried bread and mushrooms.

Celia bypassed it all, picking up a scone and a small pot of lemon curd as she took her seat. She swept the hem of her dress to the side as she settled in a move so utterly feminine it had him wanting to carry her out into the garden and make love to her all over again.

Except, then he noticed her brow was furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, returning to his side of the table.

She slathered lemon curd on a corner of her scone. “I’m still trying to piece together all the new things I’m learning about you, fill in the gaps of those years we missed.”

“Such as?” he asked warily. He wanted to let her into his world, yet he wasn’t a man used to talking about himself. He’d grown accustomed to keeping people at arm’s length.

“I know you can’t tell me about your friends and details about Interpol, but what about your time at school? Those early days when we were apart?”

He wasn’t sure why she wanted to know, but he couldn’t see the harm in sharing. “We weren’t the typical button-up types who planned to go into the military. We banded together to get through, formed a new family since ours had been taken away. We broke rules, pushed boundaries. We called ourselves The Alpha Brotherhood, and in the confines of those prisonlike walls, we kept each other from losing our minds.”

“You said you broke the rules—like when Elliot Starc hot-wired the truck?”

“Exactly.” He speared food onto his plate. “One night, Troy broke into the security system, rewired the whole thing so Conrad’s ankle monitor wouldn’t register. We left school grounds, bought pizza and came back.”

Laughing, she thumbed a crumb from the corner of her mouth, reminding him of all the ways she’d driven him crazy with those lips the night before. “Real rebels.”