by Maya Banks
He looked up to see her lips form a pout. “You haven’t tried my cooking, then,” she said. “I’m a wonderful cook.”
He laughed. “It was a compliment, or at least it was meant to be.”
“I think you’re doing just fine without the compliments,” she said in breathy delight.
He cupped her breast in his palm, shaping it, watching as the nipple hardened again. “You like this. What else do you like, Pippa? Tell me how to please you.”
“Oh, you’re doing fine. No complaints here. I love it when a guy takes his time and doesn’t just think about his own pleasure.”
“Oh, but this is my pleasure,” he murmured. “I love touching you. I love tasting you. Love watching you respond. How your eyes go a darker green when you’re really turned on. And that little vixen smile that tells me I’m in for one hell of a good time.”
“On second thought, keep on with the compliments. I’m liking this very much,” she purred.
“Where do you like to be touched?” he whispered.
Her eyes darkened again. She reached for his hand and slid it down her belly to the juncture of her legs. She guided his fingers over her softness to the tiny bundle of nerves at the apex and gently stroked the tip over it.
Then she moaned when he took over himself. Oh, yeah, she liked that. A lot.
He could be just as wicked as she could. Still stroking through the soft, velvet folds of her femininity, he lowered his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth.
She let out a cry and arched upward, her hands tangling in his hair. She was forceful. Nothing dainty about her. She knew what she liked and demanded it. He loved that about her.
He stroked his thumb over her clitoris one last time and then he pulled his hand away long enough to snag a condom. He leaned down to kiss her as he parted her legs. He wanted it to last, too, but he also knew this wouldn’t be the only time tonight. There was no way he’d get enough and he planned to use every single minute she was here to his advantage. Neither of them would be able to walk the next day but he was more than okay with that.
He nibbled at the corner of her mouth. “Are you ready for me?”
She responded by wrapping her legs around his waist and arching upward. He smiled at her impatience.
He planted his forearms on either side of her shoulders. “Guide me in, Pippa. Show me how you want it.”
Her pupils flared and then she reached down, circling him with her fingers. She positioned him against her opening and arched just enough that he slid in the barest inch.
They both let out an anguished sound and he could hold back no longer. Flexing his hips, he drove deep. At first he thought he’d hurt her, but then she dug her fingers into his shoulders and all but roared at him not to stop.
He grinned, kissed that ferocious mouth and then began to move in a frantic rhythm. There was no style, no grace. Their lovemaking couldn’t be described as polished or smooth. Far from it.
It was animalistic, with Pippa taking every bit as much as she gave. She demanded everything he had and more. He’d never made love to a woman more fierce than her, and he loved every minute of it.
She fused her mouth to his. Then she nibbled at his jaw and moved her mouth lower to sink her teeth into his neck. He’d wear her marks for days and it stroked his male pride to think of someone else being able to see the marks of her possession.
But she wouldn’t be without marks of her own. Oh, hell, no.
“Are you with me, Pippa?” he panted out. “I need you with me. I’m close.”
“Sooo there,” she said from behind clenched teeth. “Go hard, Cam. Don’t let up. Please just don’t let up.”
As if he could.
He let out a roar of his own and began driving into her with powerful, quick strokes. He wasn’t aware of anything but her. Only her. Writhing beneath him. Surrounding him with her sweetness. He smelled her, heard her, could still taste her on his tongue. And, oh, man, he felt her all the way to his bones.
“Cam!” she cried out.
Her fingers gripped his shoulders and she shuddered violently beneath him. He gathered her in his arms and let out a shout of his own as his body seemed to fracture and break into about a million pieces.
The next thing he knew he was flush against her, all his weight atop her body. It felt so damn good even though he had to be crushing her. But she wasn’t complaining. In fact, she was wrapped so tightly around him that he couldn’t have moved if he wanted to.
He lay there several long seconds while he caught his breath, and then with a groan, he rolled to the side so he could dispose of the condom.
When he looked back, Pippa was sprawled rather indelicately on her back, her expression dazed.
“I think you killed me,” she murmured. “When can we do it again?”
Three
Pippa dragged her eyes open and stared dumbly at the white cloud enveloping her head. Her body felt as though it had been hit by a freight train, but, oh, man, was it a wonderful feeling.
It took her a moment to realize she was facedown on the pillow. She lifted her head, her hair falling like a curtain over her eyes. Impatiently, she shoved it back and propped herself up on her elbow.
The bed was empty. Well, almost. At the end, her clothing was neatly folded, a nice subtle reminder that she was to depart as soon as she awakened. She wrinkled her nose. Cam certainly hadn’t stuck around. She couldn’t even tell he’d been in bed with her. No indention in the pillow. No lingering scent. No warmth. Nothing at all to indicate that they’d spent the entire night tearing up those wonderfully luxurious sheets.
With a sigh, she pushed herself up farther, holding the sheet over her breasts. Then she snorted over the realization that she was being unreasonably modest. He’d made himself clear. He wanted no awkward next-morning encounters. She didn’t have to worry about him barging in unannounced. And even if he did, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen her boobs already.
Not only had he seen them but he’d licked them, kissed them, nibbled at them and worshipped them over and over.
A shiver stole over her and her skin prickled, her nipples hardening at the memory of just how hard and often they’d made love through the night. She’d be lucky if she could manage to dress herself and get down those damn stairs.
She was tempted to take a really long hot shower. Her last attempt at a shower had been interrupted, and, well, she’d just gotten sweaty all over again. Many times again after that shower with Cam. But he wanted her out and she wasn’t going to delay things.
She checked her watch and groaned. It was past nine. She should have been up and out a lot earlier but she hadn’t drifted to sleep until well into the morning.
Nothing like wearing out her welcome.
She scrambled out of bed, wincing as all of her muscles protested the movement. Hell, she hurt in places she’d never even used before.
After pulling on her underwear, she slipped the dress over her head and put on her shoes, beating a hasty path to the bathroom to try to do something with her hair. She had makeup in her purse but she wasn’t going to bother. She had no one to impress and the car would drop her outside her apartment.
After brushing the tangles from her hair, she twisted it into a loose knot and fixed it in place with a large clip she’d pulled from her purse. She perched her sunglasses on her nose, satisfied that she didn’t look like such a fright.
Taking a deep breath, she exited the bedroom and quietly walked toward the stairs. She had no idea if Cam was even here, but the last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to her late exit from his bed.
She tiptoed down the stairs and when she reached the bottom, she was greeted by a tall, somber-looking man who was an indeterminate age somewhere between forty and seventy.
“Miss Laingley, the car is out front waiting to take you into the city.”
She winced. “I’m sorry. Has it been waiting long? I’m afraid I overslept.”
The older man smiled kindly at her. “Not at all. There’s no need to offer an apology. Come, I’ll see you out.”
He offered his arm, but that was awkward so she pretended not to see and walked ahead of him toward the massive double front doors. She paused when she got there, suddenly realizing she hadn’t gotten her coat. With a frown, she turned, only to see the man holding it open for her.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
No matter what Cam had said about it being a while, it was obvious she wasn’t the first woman he’d given such a spiel to. His butler or whatever the hell this guy was had the whole process way too down pat.
She slid her arms into the sleeves and then pulled the coat closed as the man opened the door. Cold air billowed in and Pippa blinked at the sudden white. Then she smiled. “It snowed!”
“Indeed it did. At least six inches according to the weather.”
This time when he offered his arm, Pippa took it to descend the steps. She still had on those toothpick heels she’d worn the night before, and while they were sexy beasts for shoes, they weren’t appropriate for icy conditions.
He was solicitous of her the entire way, ushering her into the back of the sleek black sedan that was already warm and toasty. He hung there a moment, staring into the backseat as he held on to the door.
“Have a safe trip, miss.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
He closed the door and the driver pulled down the drive that had already been cleared of snow. She turned in her seat, staring back at the house she hadn’t gotten a good look at the night before.
It was a hulking piece of construction, but it wasn’t as looming or intimidating as she thought it might have appeared. It looked entirely normal. In keeping with the other mansions that dotted this area.
It was, however, extremely private and surrounded by thick woods on all sides. There was no way to tell the total acreage, but she guessed it was a lot. She couldn’t see another house or even the road as they wound their way down the drive.
Yes, it did appear that Cam was Mr. Reclusive as Devon had suggested. Now that she’d had a taste of all that dark, broody passion, it made her wonder just how often Cam ventured out to lure a woman back to his cave.
She nearly laughed. She made it sound like he was the Beast, sulking in his lair while he waited for Beauty. But if anything, Cam was Beauty. The man was sinfully gorgeous and forbiddingly perfect.
And he could make love like a dream. She’d wear and feel the effects of his lovemaking for a week. A sharp tingle snaked down her back, invading her limbs, bringing awareness and arousal all over again.
She gave one last look to the imposing structure as the car turned the final bend of the driveway. Then with a sigh, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
* * *
Cam stared through the slat in the blinds of his upstairs office as the car bearing Pippa back to the city drove away. For several long seconds, he continued to stare, even when it disappeared from view.
He turned away and stood for a long moment, hands thrust into his pockets. It annoyed and bewildered him that he had no idea what he was going to do next. He experienced a sudden surge of restlessness, an urge to go do something, although what, he had no idea. He only knew that being here, alone, in his too-quiet house was suddenly…unbearable.
He scowled. It was the damn woman. He’d been caught off guard by everything about her. Maybe he’d expected someone more like Ashley. Sweet, shy, innocent, naive, a bit vulnerable, in need of protection. Maybe his ego had been stroked by offering Pippa a night in his bed. Maybe he thought he’d been granting her a favor while indulging in what he’d wanted to do from the moment he’d met her.
Instead, she’d rocked his world. This was a confident, self-assured woman who wasn’t afraid to reach out and take what she wanted, and she’d wanted him. His ego should be assuaged by that. But he found himself disgruntled because…the damn roles had been reversed.
It was almost as if she had been the one to say, Hey, I want you but I don’t want any strings. She’d taken control.
He’d acted like an out-of-control, desperate, raging sex fiend. Nothing like the composed, commanding man he liked to present to the rest of the world.
And that…well, that bothered him. A lot.
Shaking his head, he walked down the hall back to his bedroom. He entered hesitantly, which was stupid given that he’d seen her drive away, but somehow her presence was still firmly imprinted. He could smell her.
His gaze traveled over the rumpled bed linens, the mussed pillows. One of the sheets was barely clinging to the bed. Most of it was on the floor.
He should have taken her to one of the guest rooms. He didn’t bring women to his bedroom. Ever. If he’d actually been thinking the night before, he would have remained downstairs where she wouldn’t have breached the areas private to him at all. But the only prevailing thought he’d had was to get her into bed, however fast he could do it.
Lust was a bitch.
A controlling, fickle mistress from which there was no escape. At least not when it came to Pippa Laingley. Maybe now that he’d had her six ways to Sunday, his blood would cool and he wouldn’t lose his damn mind every time she came within a hundred feet.
His gut told him this was in no way true, but for his peace of mind, he was going with it.
He walked into the bathroom, wincing at the mess facing his cleaning lady. The shower door was still open. Towels had been discarded on the floor. The countertop was a mess thanks to his impatience. He’d swept the surface bare with a quick hand right before lifting Pippa onto the edge so he could have her again.
There were at least two discarded condoms on the floor.
He gingerly leaned down to toss the one by the sink into the nearby trash can and then went for the one on the floor by the shower. He used a tissue to pick it up and started for the trash can when he noticed something that sent panic knifing through his stomach.
He froze, unable to even process the evidence before him. Then a string of obscenities blistered the air. His stomach balled into a knot. Sweat broke out on his forehead and his mouth went completely dry.
He closed his eyes, willing it not to be so, but when he reopened them, he saw irrefutable proof in his shaking hand.
The condom had torn.
Four
Pippa was tempted to throw her cell across the street, but only the knowledge that she’d have to replace it kept her from giving in to the urge. What else could possibly go wrong today?
She’d found the perfect place for her bakery and catering business. It was in a nice area. The terms were satisfactory. It had already been outfitted with the necessary facilities. All she’d need was a little remodeling to the front to accommodate eat-in customers and she’d be set.
After so long doing word-of-mouth events, she was ready for a more solid step. One that would give her a steady income versus never knowing when she’d land her next gig. Her meager savings had kept her in her current apartment, but if she didn’t start bringing in a regular income, it would be gone in a year.
She was certain she could qualify for a small-business loan, but in order to get the necessary funds, she needed a signed lease. Which she had, at least until her Realtor had called her to inform her that there was a problem.
Suddenly her dreams of cute cupcakes, yummy little pastries, intricately decorated bonbons and delicious-smelling breads evaporated.
She blew out her breath in a cold fog and mounted the steps to her apartment. She fumbled with the lock just as her cell phone went off, which on
ly renewed her desire to toss it into oncoming traffic.
She managed to push inside to where it was a great deal warmer, and after kicking the door shut with her foot, she glanced down at her phone. It wasn’t a number she recognized, but given that she’d handed her number out to potential clients, she couldn’t afford not to answer the phone.
With a sigh, she punched the receive button and put it to her ear. “Pippa Laingley.”
She was in the midst of trying to shrug out of her coat when she heard Cam’s voice over the line.
“Pippa, it’s Cam.”
She paused and then chuckled, leaving her coat dangling from the arm that was bent to her ear. “Well, hello, Cam. What a surprise. I distinctly remember you saying you wouldn’t call. To what do I owe this honor?”
“One of the condoms broke,” he said tersely.
She quickly switched the phone to her other hand so she could shake away the coat. She left it there in the doorway and walked toward her living room, sure she hadn’t heard him correctly.
“Say that again,” she said shakily.
She sank onto the couch, clutching the phone tightly to her ear.
There was an indistinguishable sigh and then he said, “The condom we used in the shower. It broke. I didn’t discover it until after you’d left. Since we were in the shower, there would have been no…evidence…at the time. I didn’t notice.”
Her heart lodged solidly in her throat and she closed her eyes. No, she wouldn’t have noticed, either.
He’d been insatiable, but then so had she. The very last thing she’d considered at the time was whether the condom had performed as expected. Obviously if it would have happened at any other point, they would have known. But in a shower?
“Pippa, are you there?”
The strident demand shook her from her thoughts.
“I’m here,” she said faintly.
“There are things we have to discuss.”
She frowned. “Why are you only just now calling me? When did you discover this?”