Captive Hearts (Hearts on Fire Book 2)

by L. M. Connolly

  Scarlett wasn’t aware of the car stopping. Not until a blast of cool air hit her when the driver opened his door.

  With a squeak of alarm, she pulled back. She was sprawled across Ethan, her jean-clad legs on either side of his suited ones, her crotch pressed against his groin. Her shirt was half undone, his hand clearly visible on her bra, over her breast. And she didn’t want him to stop.

  “Five minutes,” he murmured against her mouth. The vibrations worked their way through her, a gentle counterpoint to the fierceness of their mutual desire. Throwing her head back, she pulled in a breath, then another, his soft moan only reminding her of his potent presence. “We’ll be upstairs in five minutes.”

  Fumbling, she fastened her buttons when he drew his hand away, thankful he hadn’t unsnapped her bra, although he was a minute from doing so. Her crotch was wet, her panties and jeans soaked with her arousal. He cast one burning look at her before he lifted her away from him and opened the car door.

  Thank goodness the driver had halted in an underground parking lot.

  He’d refastened his shirt, but still anyone could guess what they’d been doing on that back seat. And they’d left the privacy partition open, something, from what he’d told her, he never did. His hair was tousled from her fingers and his tie askew, destroying the immaculate businessman who had climbed into the car. His eyes were wild, bright blue, and fixed right on her. When he imperiously held out his hand, she let him pull her out of the vehicle. Not a gentle, polite guidance, not this time. When she stumbled, losing her balance, he swung her up into his arms and headed for the elevator. Her cheeks burning with embarrassment, Scarlett could do nothing but tuck her face against his chest, unwilling to acknowledge the man who had driven them here.

  The car started up and purred away as the lift doors slid open.

  Ethan stepped inside. The lights were too bright, making her blink.

  He lowered her to the floor, holding her until she was steady. He found a card in his inside jacket pocket and slid it into the slot. After hitting the button for the top floor, he gathered her in again. “We should behave ourselves in here,” he said, glancing up. She followed his gaze to where a small camera stared unblinkingly at them. “But I don’t have any cameras inside my apartment. The keycard will make sure we go straight there.”

  “Useful,” she managed to force through trembling lips. The reminder of their lost weekend returned in full color to her dazed senses, but this encounter promised to be far too intense, more than anything she’d shared with him before.

  “Very,” he replied, his dry tone revealing the effort he was making to remain in control. She knew him so well already.

  Scarlett stole a glance at him. He was turned toward the panel, although he kept one arm curved around her waist. She could have stood on her own now, but she didn’t want to. This encounter was inevitable. It had taken her all her strength to withstand his potent allure, but she’d lost it all now. As weak as a kitten as far as her desire for Ethan Black went, she wanted nothing more than to strip him naked and touch every part of him, make him hers.

  After what seemed like forever the elevator doors slid open. A small lobby, little more than a holding cell, opened to Ethan’s touch on the keypad and then the door was open. Finally, they were alone.

  Chapter Ten

  Scarlett got the sense of a wide open space before he dragged her close once more, slamming his mouth on hers as if they’d been apart for years. And she felt the same way, as if someone had disengaged the “pause” button and pressed “play.” The small break while they rode up here had only served to increase her desperate need for him to impossible levels.

  Ethan made short work of her blouse, dragging at it until something tore and cold air swept over her skin. Her responsive shiver elicited a desperate moan from him. “I need you, Scarlett. It’s been too long.”

  “Yes. Far too long.”

  She had no more words. They shed clothing as they crossed the large room, discarding them over the hardwood floor before he picked her up and laid her on a huge sofa set in front of a window. The glorious skyline of Central Park, a blast of green, greeted her dazed vision, tall buildings stretching up on the other side. Another billionaire view.

  But she didn’t have much time for the sight now. Not when this supreme specimen of hot, hard male was laying her down.

  But—“No,” she said, gasping as she sat up. “It’s my turn. You lie down.”

  With a slight quirk of one dark eyebrow, he did as she told him. Tucking his hands behind his head, he drawled, “Okay, I’m all yours.”

  “Condom?”

  He motioned toward a small wooden box set on a table. With an incredulous laugh, she opened it and found it full of small foil packets. “You were planning an orgy, perhaps?”

  “Our own private orgy. We don’t need those, unless you’re more comfortable with one. Come back here, woman.”

  Yes, she did. Feel more comfortable, that was. She’d ask the necessary questions later, but she didn’t want them in the way now.

  She should have taken umbrage at his order. Instead, she got even wetter, the liquid escaping on to the top of her thighs as her body readied itself for him. Condom in hand, she turned to him and dropped to her knees, landing on the small Oriental rug set before the sofa.

  Ethan was laid out for her like a feast. That was what he was; a living banquet, just waiting for her to consume it. His broad chest, undulating with hard-packed muscle, the long-limbed, fluid length of him; for today, at least, he was all hers.

  Spreading her hands over his chest, she moaned at the heat and hardness of him. Beneath her hand, his heart pulsed, beating hard against his chest. Unashamed and rampant, he waited for her.

  But not for long. She smoothed her hands over him, the occasional prickle of a chest hair adding to the sensations swamping Scarlett. Avoiding his mouth, because if she started there she’d probably end there as well, she worked her way from one side to the other, kissing every inch, loving the taste and feel of him. The elusive scent of an expensive cologne mingled with the purely earthy aroma of aroused male. Her male.

  When she got to his navel, and dipped her tongue into the small indentation, his muscles tensed and he made a strangled sound in his throat. “Do it,” he said through gritted teeth.

  She’d seen his cock before, of course, but he’d never let her explore him at such length. Kissing up the hard shaft, she worked across the soft tip, and found another opening, which she licked and tasted, until resuming her journey. The rim of the head gave her a convenient line to lick around, teasing him, and listening to his muttered imprecations with pride. She was doing this. Determined to make Ethan lose control, Scarlett continued her sensual journey.

  She feared she’d never get enough of him. The need to explore him at all times of the day, and all the seasons, struck her as a worthy ambition. He would change, and his body would taste differently, feel like a new version of Ethan.

  He wasn’t passive, either, reaching out to dig through her hair, and discard the clip holding it neatly at her nape, so it flowed over his hands. He tugged and stroked, and before she slid out of his reach, he caressed her shoulders, her breasts and her shoulder blades, which proved surprisingly erotic. But then every part of her was erotic, right down to her toes. She curled them into the soft rug. Finally, she sucked him in.

  “Oh, God!” His response washed over her, urging her to continue.

  She worked as much of his considerable length into her mouth as she could, and still she wanted more. Hunger consumed her. The more she took, the more she wanted.

  “No!” Ethan sat up, with a suddenness that dislodged her, but before she could return and claim her reward, he’d snatched the little packet from her clenched hand and lifted her to sit astride him.

  Scarlett forked her hands into her hair and shoved the heavy mass back, staring down at him. “Why did you stop me?”

  “Because I want to come inside you. Not into
your mouth. Not this time.” He opened his hand, offering the small packet to her. Without delay, she snatched it up and ripped it open.

  “Take your time,” he murmured, as she slid the protection over him, lovingly smoothing it down his shaft to rest at the base. “No more accidents.”

  Until he’d mentioned it, she’d forgotten. Shoving her anxiety aside, Scarlett went up on her knees and hovered over him, guiding him to her.

  Even the touch of him on her most intimate flesh made her shudder, the contact almost too much.

  When he slid inside her she blacked out. Only for a second, but the blinding sensation, built up by a week or more of self-denial rushed through her. When she came back, she stared down at him. He’d stopped, but he was still buried inside her. He was supporting her waist with his hands on her hips.

  She opened her eyes and met his blue gaze. The moment stretched into the most intimate experience they had ever shared. She stared into his soul, and opened herself in response.

  His tongue flickered out to moisten his lips. “Are you all right?”

  She forced a smile, but it was a feeble effort. “Fine.”

  “You sagged.”

  Vulnerability scored her but she didn’t want to admit it. Not to this man, where she was still finding her way. But if she didn’t do this, she would never get deeper, never know what really drove him. Because at the merest whisper of a shield being put up, his would go up like steel security screens. “I passed out. Just for a second or two. I want this very much, Ethan.”

  He gave a brief nod. “So do I. We have this, Scarlett, and it’s more than a lot of people have.”

  He sounded serious, as if their marriage was more than a convenience. Fear and a deeper emotion warred inside her.

  Experimentally she moved, seating herself more firmly on him. Sparks flew, and they returned to the fire, willingly plunging into the flames.

  They worked together, their movements as coordinated as a dance, but far more intimate. Catching her hands, he pulled her forward until she was leaning on the sofa either side of him. His chest was so broad she felt splayed, totally open to him.

  He smiled up at her. “You feel so good. So wet. It’s great to know you want me, that you’re this wet because of me.”

  A quick jerk of his hips brought him deeper into her. Watching her face, he did it again, then changed her position over him and ground into her. This was what she’d imagined earlier in the car, when she was on his lap, but she couldn’t have imagined anything that felt this good. Despite their weekend together, they’d never done this, never been as close.

  They were playing a sensual game of chicken, urging each other into more acts of intimacy, daring to see who could fly closest to the flames without getting burned.

  Sensation shot through her, radiating from the heart of where he was plunging deep inside her. She raised her hips as he withdrew and slammed down on him as he thrust up. Her gasps and cries didn’t stop her continuing. The position he’d put her in meant she was reasonably secure, so she could let rip without fear of falling. With every downward plunge he caught her, lightly grazed her hips with his big palms, steadying and reassuring her.

  “Go for it, Scarlett. Let me watch you break open. I’ll put you back together.”

  After he’d broken. Thrills spread through her, radiating from where they joined. The ripples increased in strength, leaving her gasping. But he’d said he’d take care of her, that she could experience everything without fear.

  Scarlett had never known what it was like to be fearless, but she felt it now. In his arms she could fly, express herself without worry that she would take a calamitous fall. The freedom intoxicated her as much as the incredible shocks of pleasure taking control of her body.

  And, if she didn’t take care, her heart.

  But she didn’t care. This was too good to miss, too intense to back away from. Cries erupted from her throat, and she threw her head back, gasping for air. Ethan pulled her back, dragging her down to take her in a passionate kiss, his tongue plunging, all tenderness gone. Only passion remained, glowing between them like a living thing.

  He changed the angle of his kiss, licking inside her, one hand on her hip the other on her breast, pulling and tweaking until she cried out.

  He swallowed her cry.

  Their dance quickened, until they were working hard enough to draw sweat. Their bodies slick, they pushed each other harder, deeper. Scarlett would not pull back. She would not withdraw, even though her climax had begun.

  Her inner channel pulsed around him, clenching his cock in a succession of uncontrollable spasms, her body responding of its own volition. She couldn’t control her reaction. Heat surrounded her, and she wouldn’t have been surprised to see steam rising. But she was too engrossed in him to bother looking. Gasping and crying out into his mouth she didn’t stop her movements, almost instinctively rising and falling, until she had some control back. Enough to continue her muscles on her own.

  He still hadn’t come.

  Dragging her mouth from his, she stared down at him, heedless of her hair tumbling around her cheeks in a wild tangle, or her makeup, which she could feel melting off her face. Smears of her mascara and blusher spread over his skin, on his cheeks and neck, where they’d kissed wildly.

  With a yell, he arched, almost throwing her off him. Scarlett grabbed for him, and found purchase on his arm, scrabbling to get hold, which was difficult on his sweat-slicked skin.

  He pulsed, his whole body quivering as he came. Heat blossomed inside her as she fell forward to land on his chest.

  His arms came around her. As he’d promised, he hadn’t let her fall. His heart pounded as if trying to get out of his chest, and hers was the same, throbbing so hard she couldn’t catch her breath but lay panting, her body heaving.

  *

  What in hell had just happened? Scarlett had done another blank on him, falling asleep almost as soon as he’d come. Although erupted might be a better word. Ethan was still breathing heavily, like an out-of-condition elephant. Despite the heaving breaths he was taking, moving her up and down where she sprawled all over him, she didn’t wake up.

  That was devastating. And he was honest enough to admit, at least to himself, what they’d just done was more than simple screwing. That act had bonded them in a way he didn’t understand. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. They were marrying, after all, and he needed an heir. Or maybe he didn’t. He’d been brought up to expect to marry and breed, for the sake of the company. From being a family business, the Noir Group had become an obsession. He could admit that now. Whether she knew it or not, Scarlett had punched through his defenses. If she was awake now, he’d probably make the biggest mistake of his life and tell her so.

  He had never let anyone get inside his skin like Scarlett had. He was far too damaged to take care of someone as sweet as she was, as sexy, as beautiful. He’d break her for sure.

  If he could love, this would be the woman, but he couldn’t, so there was an end of it. But he would marry her, and ensure any child they had been well cared for. Hell, she deserved better than him.

  But when he thought of her with someone else, his throat contracted as if someone was pouring acid down it. The catch in his breath was real. A fierce sense of possession made him tighten his arms around her.

  Scarlett slept on.

  Finally regaining his strength, Ethan got up from the sofa and carried her upstairs to bed.

  *

  Natalie had been right. The dress was perfect. Scarlett twirled before the big mirror in Ethan’s room—their room, he insisted on calling it. The royal blue was deep and rich, the fabric, satin-backed crepe, caressed her body before flaring out below her knees. Natalie had worked wonders.

  The dress was undoubtedly made just for Scarlett. The bias-cut bodice with the low cowl neck outlined her breasts without being embarrassingly tight, and the fabric folded where it should. No unexpected creases revealing that it had been bought off the rack, or o
ff the runway as the case might be. “If I could afford it, I’d get Natalie to make all my clothes.”

  “I agree.”

  Clutching her hand to her breasts like a Victorian maiden, Scarlett whirled around, even in her shock enjoying the way the fabric curled around her knees. “Oh Ethan, I didn’t know you were home!”

  “Just now. Give me half an hour and I’ll be with you.”

  He crossed to the bathroom, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He didn’t stop to kiss her. The shadows beneath his eyes revealed how much work he’d been doing the last few days. He’d barely had time for her, although he had provided her with a laptop which had a video link to the Woodward in London. She could watch the progress of the renovations. Only from the application of the plaster, though. Multiple cables which she knew didn’t belong to a regular electrical circuit were channeled through the walls. Only two men worked on that, and the screen went black while they were doing their work. “It’s not you,” Ethan had told her. “It’s potential hackers. We can’t risk them breaking in. Each hotel has its own circuit, designed by a different company. We’re taking this seriously.”

  So they were. Her hotel would house princes, sheikhs, and the shadowy figures that followed them everywhere, as well as companies making plans that would cost them billions if they fell into the wrong hands.

  Scarlett should be flattered. But instead, she let the security guys get on with their jobs. She was more interested in what the regular workmen had uncovered. She could have her dream, and restore the Woodward to its days of glory. Ethan had ensured that every worker knew she was in charge of bringing the Woodward back to life. And she loved it all.

  On her way back from the library today, she’d stopped at one of the jewelry stores near the Empire State Building, and bought herself a necklace which, while not real diamonds, were dead ringers for them. Ethan had deposited her first month’s salary in the bank, a breathtaking amount for someone who’d been living on a shoestring ever since she could remember, but not enough to indulge in the real thing.