Him.
Them.
And the moment demanded her full attention if she was going to keep up with his agenda.
As if he read her mind, he broke away from the kiss and leaned in to nip her earlobe. “Stop trying to make sense of this, Ella. Let it be what it is.”
“And what is this?” she whispered, letting her head tip back, exposing her neck.
His answer, whispered in kind, raked over her skin. “Madness.”
Madness.
She intended to respond, but Liam chose that moment to dip lower and, lifting the globe of her breast, take the nipple into his mouth, where he attended it with lips and tongue and teeth. An invisible line ran through her breast, down her abdomen and settled in her sex. It was hot, tantamount to a lit fuse, and it promised an explosion when it reached her core. Already the embers were burning.
Ella rubbed her thighs together and moaned, raking her fingers through Liam’s thick hair and fisting it. She pulled him closer.
He hummed his approval against her skin.
The fine vibrations did impossible things to her already distended nipple.
“Please,” she gasped. Desperation made her awkward, but her hands sought out his erection and she gripped it, sliding the broad girth through her fist. So smooth. Hot. Hard. She followed the length back up with slow calculation and discovered a fine sheen of arousal coating the head. Shifting her grip, she smoothed her thumb through it and across the sensitive tip.
Liam huffed out a wordless sound and then lifted his head to reclaim her mouth. Their tongues dueled, desperation flavoring every touch, fueling every nip, shaping every sound. Alternately pushing and pulling, he directed her toward the bed as if he were a choreographer. Mosquito netting slithered across her bare shoulder and arm, and Ella shivered. Then the edge of the mattress was there, and she found herself being laid down with extreme care, his kiss never ending, his touch never ceasing.
She wallowed in myriad sensations, her body fluid, molten, under his heat.
Liam broke the kiss, and she mewled in protest. There were no words to ask him to return to her mouth, particularly when he began trailing kisses down her body, tracing his tongue around each nipple, circling her belly button and then—
Ella arched off the bed when Liam’s mouth closed over her sex, where she most craved touch, stimulation, manipulation. Anything.
Everything.
She cried out in protest when he let go, falling back on the bed as he tugged her hips to the very edge.
“Patience,” he said, mouth barely touching her overheated skin.
“Screw patience,” she ground out, lifting her hips to him in a wordless demand.
She felt him smile. “That’s the plan.”
* * *
Liam’s control had begun to unravel on the beach when he’d taken Ella’s mouth in that first kiss, but this—the taste and sound and feel of her—dismantled him in a rush. His mouth worked her hard, driving her to the brink of orgasm before backing off, until Ella shook with the need.
Her frustrated cry had him sliding a single finger into her tight sheath and using his thumb to caress that sensitive nerve bundle as he used his free hand and teeth to rip open the condom he’d tossed on the bed. Unchecked need had him shaking so badly it took both of his hands to roll the condom down his length, but he managed. Barely.
Looking up, he found Ella’s glazed eyes locked on the jutting length of his cock. She whimpered, hips undulating with primal need.
Liam was undone.
He gripped her hips and pulled her toward him. Then, eyes on hers, he surged forward and sheathed himself in her tight, hot sex with a single thrust.
Ella arched her back so hard only her shoulders and feet were on the bed. She took him to the root even as her hands scrabbled and fisted the duvet, seeking purchase.
There was little finesse and even less control as instinct took over, driving his hips in a base thrust-retreat-thrust motion echoed by the sound of skin striking skin with a rhythm that spoke of bodies in motion.
Ella gripped his arms for leverage and gave as well as she received, lifting her hips to meet his every drive. She was wild and uninhibited and everything he’d ever dreamed of in a lover. He wanted more of her, all of her, and would settle for no less as he fucked her with a brutally raw passion he’d thought himself incapable of.
Reaching between them, he found her swollen clitoris and pinched it.
“Liam!” she cried out, eyes going wide.
The first flutters of her orgasm clutched his cock, and his balls drew impossibly tighter. The base of his spine burned with warning a mere second before heat scorched his length and his own orgasm overtook him. No more warning than that.
He was reduced to a frantic pumping of hips and ragged breaths and shattered thoughts as he rode out the sensations that threatened to dismantle him, body and soul. Grinding his hips into hers, he gave a final thrust as she went limp. Straining, a final pulse rocked him and he collapsed forward onto her.
Their hearts thundered one against the other, the frenzied beats adopting a kindred rhythm.
She shifted beneath him, and he managed to move his body onto the bed beside her, rolling to take her into his arms in a move as foreign to him as democracy was to dictatorship. He’d never been one for postcoital cuddling, but just then, the idea of letting Ella go wasn’t acceptable.
His chest tightened with an unnamed emotion when she snuggled back into him so that he spooned her. They fit together as if they were a two-piece puzzle. He felt like he should say something, offer some sort of commentary on their situation, but Ella beat him to it.
“You’re way behind, Webster.”
“Webster?”
“The dictionary. I suggested you pull every word in the English language from my mouth. All you managed was your name.”
He smiled into her hair. “That was enough, darling.” The pet name fell from his lips with ease and, for once, it wasn’t just an empty platitude meant to pave the way for a smooth departure from his lover’s bed. The truth rattled him, and he lost his train of thought.
She was quiet, presumably waiting on him to finish his thought.
He rolled onto his back and took her with him, situating her so she straddled his hips before offering her the truth. “Dawn is hours away. We’ve plenty of time to work on your vocabulary.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
ELLA SAT NEXT to the pool, laptop open, and flipped through the list Liam had given her before he slipped out this morning. The warmth of the early-afternoon sun soothed muscles that ached from overuse through the night.
She grinned.
Maybe she’d arrange for a massage later this afternoon. Or she’d talk Liam into doing it. Yeah, that had some real potential.
Her grin widened.
“Work first, play second.” She murmured the reminder under her breath.
Getting back on task, she continued to read through Liam’s paperwork. There, at the bottom of the first page in bold male handwriting, was a note with the groom’s request for a shellfish pairing with the main course. She typed the request into the file she’d started to track Liam’s changes. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him. She didn’t know him enough to either trust or distrust him when it came to her career. But she felt better keeping their individual choices clearly defined in the event the bride or groom wanted to know why a specific change had been made.
She continued through the notes. There were quite a few handwritten amendments on the second and third pages—things like the flowers to be used in the bride’s bouquet, the number of guests attending, requested activities, food choices, the orientation of the chairs relative to the sea and more. Each change left Ella a little more concerned than the last. Sure, the revisions were minor, but they altered the feel of the preceremony celebration and the nuptials...e
nough to make Ella question whether she’d had it right from the beginning. Was she losing her touch? Liam had been so confident in giving her the changes, so sure about what the couple desired for their big day. And he would know, wouldn’t he? Had she misread the bride’s wishes so significantly?
At the thought, her belly rolled over, the sensation as lazy as it was insolent.
A shadow cut across her computer screen. “Finding everything in order?”
Ella glanced up and discovered the very man she’d just been thinking about standing beside her lounge chair. Liam’s broad shoulders blocked the sun. He wore nothing but a pair of pale blue board shorts. Water dripped from the hems and puddled around his bare feet. His dark hair was slicked back, making his deep brown eyes all the more prominent in that sculpted face. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and the waist of his trunks slipped a fraction of an inch down his hips. Tanned warmth gave way to a thin white strip of skin.
He moved to tug the shorts up, and she reached out to rest a hand on his knee. “Don’t.”
A smile teased one side of his mouth. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t pull your shorts up.”
“The lady allows me to command her body in the dark but thinks to command mine in the light of day?”
She tugged on the end of the wet suit, exposing a bit more skin, and took him in, one visual gulp at a time.
“If memory serves, you were quite vocal in your approval.”
“I’m all about positive reinforcement.”
He chuffed out a small laugh.
“Besides,” she continued, “how else was I supposed to let you know you were doing what—exactly what—I wanted?” Batting her eyes, she lowered her voice. “And if my memory serves, you were all too anxious to have me command your body under yesterday’s sun.”
He touched two fingers to his forehead in mock salute. “Touché.”
A short laugh, breathy and shallow, escaped her, and she fought the urge to cringe. She’d never been that woman, the one who flirted with inane comments and superficial behavior. This man wouldn’t turn her into that woman, no matter how spectacular a lover he’d been.
Ella cleared her throat, gathered her paperwork and then stood, forcing Liam to take a step back and give her some space. She needed to do something proactive on this account, something to prepare for the arrival of the bride and groom in just four short days.
Four days.
The timeline was so tight. If she screwed this up, there would be no time to fix it. This was a one-shot opportunity to reclaim her career and her self-esteem. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, screw it up.
“I have some questions about the changes you requested.”
Liam crossed his arms over his chest, took a deep breath and widened his stance as if preparing for battle. “Do you, now.” His tone was measured. “I was under the impression my notes were self-explanatory.”
She tilted her head to one side, looking him over. “Does this happen often?”
“Does what happen often?”
“This.” She gestured toward him. “Do you have frequent episodes where your superiority complex interferes with common courtesy? If so, you might consider seeing someone about it.”
His eyes flared for a moment before his lids slid down and gave him the appearance of bored but focused irritation. “A little respect, Ella.”
“Absolutely, Liam,” she said, emphasizing the two syllables of his name and meeting his stare head-on. “When it’s earned.” She squared her shoulders and tipped her head toward a table situated in deep shade. “Let’s move over there. We’ll be able to spread the paperwork out, and I can share sketches and initial plans on the guest seating, ceremony timing and reception setup. I believe that when you view the ideas your sister first approved, you’ll be able to help me incorporate the modified requests.”
“Certainly, though I’m deferring to you and your expertise.”
“Yes, but you know the couple. I don’t.” She moved past him, still talking as she went. “Consider it a different type of boardroom negotiation and you’ll be fine. But treat me like the expendable lackey, and we’re going to butt heads all the way to our departing flights.”
“And that wouldn’t do, would it.”
Ella rounded on Liam and forced herself to hold her ground when she found him much closer than she’d anticipated. Tilting her head back and shielding her eyes from the sun, she fought to keep her tone level. “You’re trying to provoke me. I’m not sure why, but stop it. Neither of us gains anything if this wedding is a wreck just because you couldn’t separate the personal and professional aspects of our acquaintanceship.”
“Acquaintanceship.” Liam’s brow furrowed and his eyes darkened. “Is that what you’re calling this thing between us?”
Ella shrugged. “I don’t need to label it to enjoy it, so feel free to call it what you want. But whatever you do? Don’t, and I mean do not, allow it to interfere with my job. Understand?”
He inclined his head but didn’t meet her challenging stare as he waved her toward the table she’d indicated moments before. “After you, then.”
And that...that easy capitulation left the skin across her shoulders tight even as he placed a hand so low on her back that a small shift let him slip lower, one finger caressing the skin below her sarong and bikini-clad bottom, sending warmth coursing through her. Both sensations were strong, both messages loud and clear.
The question was, which one should she listen to first?
* * *
Five hours later, with the sun beginning to set, Liam had demanded Ella take a break. The woman had grown frazzled, frustrated and kept retracing steps she’d already taken. She’d argued with him, as predicted, so he’d signaled the waiter, signed off on the check and asked her to meet him at the bungalow. Then he left, Ella still stewing in her seat. There was time yet to get her to come around, even if the timeline was tight and growing tighter. The approach had to be gentle, even subtle. If he pushed her too hard, too fast, she’d become suspicious. He didn’t want to lose the best chance he had in getting his sister to see the truth about her fiancé. Though he was feeling inexplicably guilty about the consequence to Ella should he successfully dismantle the wedding.
Settling deeper into the porch hammock, he used one foot to push off and start the swing rocking. He could fix whatever went wrong, set Ella’s business to rights with just a few well-placed calls, a timely recommendation or two and a couple of high-profile jobs he’d create on his own if he had to. And surely Jenna would use her star power and social influence to help as well. His sister was softhearted. Too much so. That had gotten her into this mess of an engagement in the first place. If she’d been more practical instead of so emotional, she’d have seen what her fiancé was after from the beginning. Thankfully, Liam had no qualms about protecting his sister. He would do what needed to be done to ensure Jenna wasn’t taken in by a con man. If love existed, his sister deserved nothing less.
One of the bungalow’s French doors opened with a soft snick before closing with a sharp kabam.
No apology followed.
Yep. Ella was still irritated. Maybe “pissed off” was more accurate. His insistence that Jenna wanted freshly imported tulips from Holland had seemed to send Ella over the edge. She’d typed the amendment into her computer, fingers slamming against the keys in rapid-fire fashion, and then eyed him through narrowed lids. “Anything else?”
That’s when he’d made his stage-left exit.
He knew he needed to smooth the proverbial waters between them to keep her focused on his revisions. The trick was to do so in a way that wouldn’t make his concerns seem overdone or his directives too controlling. He couldn’t allow her to get to the point she considered reaching out to Jenna’s assistant for confirmation. There had been a moment, maybe two, this afternoon where it had been a near th
ing. The woman was sharp as hell. But he’d been able to redirect her by suggesting outrageous alternatives to his “amended” requests in the hopes of making his changes seem less, well, outrageous. Which they were. He was well aware some of what he’d written in was over-the-top. He’d drafted a mental checklist of things he would need to handle himself. Then he had offered to take those tasks off her plate to help her. The blatant lying didn’t sit well with him. At all. But he’d do that and more, even worse, to spare Jenna the heartache Mike would, without a doubt, foist on her.
Liam had watched over Jenna since she’d taken her first steps, always there to ensure she wasn’t hurt if she fell, helping her get back up and take her next steps with confidence. And she had because she knew he was right there to catch her should she fall again. Liam had tended her wounds, from skinned knees after falling off her bicycle to a broken arm following a horseback-riding incident. He’d talked her through her first broken heart. He’d celebrated her first major nomination for lead actress. He’d always been there for her. Always. She’d even once admitted to him that part of her fearlessness was the knowledge he’d always be there to support her.
And then there was the oath Liam’s father had demanded from his deathbed.
First, Liam had to give his word that he would watch over Jenna. Second, his father had demanded that Liam keep Baggett Financial Services in the family and ensure that voting rights and ultimate ownership would remain at 51 percent or greater in the Baggetts’ favor. Should Liam fail, the board was ordered to replace him with a second cousin. The boy was only fourteen but had already proven a head for numbers in his boarding school. Liam had been insulted. He’d also been emotionally wrung out. The former his father dismissed; the latter was never acknowledged. Not by either Baggett.
Wicked Heat Page 7