Wicked Heat

by Kelli Ireland

  “Let me take care of you.”

  She rose on her knees so high that the very tip of him nearly slipped free, then she sank back down. Every inch she took was pleasure paired with pain. The tight grip of her sheath stole his control and he bucked.

  Again, she squeezed her thighs around his hips.

  The urge to protest tripped over his tongue, but she placed a finger on his lips at the same moment he started to speak. “Hush, Liam. Let me.”

  So he did. Relaxing the hold he had on her hips, he lay back and gave her something he’d given no woman before: absolute control.

  Ella rode him, slow and sure, until a fine sheen of sweat broke out over her skin. It shone in the afternoon sun, casting an ethereal look over every inch of her body. Running her hands up her torso as she rose and fell, she cupped her breasts and then tweaked her nipples.

  Liam shuddered beneath her, twisting his hips in an effort to be still as she took him all the way inside her.

  “Do that again,” she said, voice husky with passion.

  He hadn’t meant to move that way, but if she wanted more of that? Yeah, he could give her what she wanted.

  Hands on her hips, he let her set the pace, occasionally twisting his hips as directed. Every time he did, her core tightened around him to the point her sex gripped his cock like a damn vise. The urge to give her what she wanted warred with his need to drive into her, to force the orgasm she was dragging out for both of them, to make her scream his name to the heavens.

  She must have been on the same page because, without warning, she leaned forward, parked her hands on his shoulders and began to ride him in earnest. Sounds of hard, fast sex—skin on skin, harsh breaths, little moans—saturated the air, filled his head and dominated his awareness. There was only this moment, only this woman, only one possible outcome.

  Liam’s balls drew up tight. Release roared toward him, and he was a slave to its timing. But he could—would—bring her with him. Reaching between them, he found her clitoris and stroked in time with the pace Ella set. She faltered before increasing her speed, pumping harder, digging her fingers into his shoulders until her nails scored his skin. Her eyes widened a fraction, and Liam struck.

  Knees bent, he pitched her forward at the same time he pinched that bundle of nerves between two fingers and strummed it with his thumb. He rolled his hips and drove into her, meeting her thrust for thrust.

  Ella’s head fell back and she called out his name.

  Liam increased the tempo even more, thrilling as she lost control and called out his name.

  Hair loose and wild, she let go of his shoulders and reached back, gripping Liam’s knees as she ground her sex against him, taking him as deep as she could. Her cry was magnificent, seeming to originate from the very heart of her before flinging itself free without a care as to who heard her or what they might think.

  Liam’s own release ripped through him, boiling out of the tip of his cock as if she’d summoned it.

  Nothing had been this good. This right. This whole. Not ever.

  Ella was brilliant, wild, so fucking alive he couldn’t look away. She was everything.

  And he was lost.

  CHAPTER TEN

  STORM CLOUDS DOMINATED the horizon, obscuring the setting sun as Ella stepped out of the shower. Body lax, muscles loose, she toweled off and wrapped up her hair atop her head. There were a dozen different things she needed to focus on, but her first priority was sorting herself out.

  She and Liam had been right on the cusp of falling into each other earlier when Liam had said four words—just four words—that had shredded Ella’s heart. My body is yours. His body. And only his body. She’d realized then that she wanted more. Not that she had any right to any of him, particularly after they’d agreed this was a fun-while-it-lasted affair. No strings. No regrets. Hell, she’d even given herself a stern talking-to a couple days ago about keeping things light and enjoyable until they left the island.

  But somewhere in there, she’d begun to feel...something. What that something was, she couldn’t be sure. Not yet. And with the way Liam viewed relationships, not ever. That meant Ella needed to stick to her initial ground rules or remove herself from the equation altogether.

  Touching her fingertips to the tops of her breasts, she watched the peaks swell and rise, and she wondered if she could actually give him up. He loved her body like no one ever had. He made her tremble with a single word, yearn for his touch, forget how to breathe, come apart on command. She was the instrument to his virtuoso. Her sex throbbed, a sweet ache of memory.

  His form filled the doorway, mouth fluttering at the corners in a half smile. “And I was under the impression I’d done a thorough job so you wouldn’t need to supplement my efforts.”

  She dropped her hands and shrugged, looking away as she unwound the towel from her head. “Condition check. Nothing more.”

  “Everything okay?”

  She smiled at him in the mirror. “You’ll be pleased to know you left everything in working order.” Grabbing her brush, she began working the tangles from her wet mass of hair. Sometimes she loved having naturally wavy hair; others, not so much. Like now. She pulled a little too hard and winced.

  “Here,” he said, closing in behind her and taking the brush. “Sit. Let me.”

  She sat on the vanity stool, body vibrating, heart numb. How could she possibly keep her emotional distance if he was going to do things like brush her hair? That certainly wasn’t some random act of kindness. It was blatant intimacy, the one thing he had kept out of their interactions.

  Except the dance on the beach.

  Except for ordering breakfast served on the porch.

  Except carrying you to the bedroom.

  Her heart ached like a bad tooth, and she fought the need to rub her chest and soothe the discomfort that bordered on pain. It wasn’t like this could be serious anyway. People didn’t fall for each other this fast. Not if it was real. Infatuation? Sure. She had that in spades. And, if she were honest, she’d had that particular affliction since he’d landed on her lap on the plane.

  If her feelings for him were serious, she’d be...what? What would she be feeling that would be any different than what she felt now?

  Ella’s breath caught.

  She was so not falling for Liam Baggett, brother of Hollywood’s darling, famous in the world of finance, infamous among socialites as the unattainable, unchainable bachelor. Yeah, she’d looked him up this afternoon. Article after article labeled him a jet-setting playboy, a millionaire so many times over even Time’s Top 100 had lost count, a shark in the boardroom and a lover of women worldwide.

  I’m one of those women.

  It shocked her that it stung to be one of ten, twenty, fifty, one hundred women he’d called “lover.” She’d had affairs before, but she’d never become so emotionally involved that she struggled with the inevitable end.

  Liam paused behind her. “What’s with the long face?”

  She forced herself to smile. “My face is oval, thank you. Not long.”

  “Talk to me, Ella.” The quiet command hung there, his eyes on hers in the mirror.

  “If you don’t get the tangles out before it dries, my hair turns into a giant nest that will haunt me until I shower again.”

  He began brushing. “Don’t hide from me.”

  “I’m sitting right here. Naked, in fact.” She smiled brighter but couldn’t maintain eye contact, instead leaning forward to reach her moisturizer. Removing the lid, she scooped out a dollop and slapped it on her face, rubbing in the expensive cream with brisk, sweeping strokes.

  “Ella,” he said in that warning tone of his.

  As if she were a child to be admonished.

  She huffed out a sharp sigh. “Leave it alone, Liam. I’m fine.”

  He paused. “There’s this look on your face—�
��

  “That’s probably because I keep thinking about the metric shit ton I have yet to accomplish before this wedding.” He opened his mouth to say something else, likely to press if she knew him at all. Reaching back, she held his wrist. “Let it go, Liam. I’m stressed. That’s all.”

  “Don’t regret the time we’ve spent together.” A command couched as a request.

  “I don’t,” she said, fighting for a normal tone and nearly succeeding. She tried not to focus on the words he hadn’t spoken—that their time was limited, that they had best make the most of what was left—over what he’d said.

  “Neither do I.” He stared at her for what felt like an eon before handing her the brush. “I need to answer a few emails from the London office. Shouldn’t take more than an hour. Join me for dinner when I’ve finished?”

  She considered, thinking how nice it would be to have a quiet dinner with him, to get to know him better, to discover who he was beneath the polish and responsibilities. And she realized she’d only be setting herself up to fall harder.

  “I shouldn’t,” she said around the bitter regret lodged in her throat. “I have so much to do before Jenna and Mike get here.”

  “You...we...have another full day. Dinner, Ella.” He rested his hands along her jaw, gently turned her face toward the mirror and waited until she had no choice but to look at him. “Please.”

  She might not know Liam well, but she knew enough to be sure he didn’t use that word often.

  “Say yes.” Again with that half smile.

  She debated with herself, going back and forth as she rapidly created a mental list of pros and cons. But then Liam leaned in and sealed his mouth over hers in a persuasive kiss.

  He broke the kiss but his lips still caressed hers when he spoke. “Dinner, Ella. One meal where we’re just a couple of people on holiday. No talk of the wedding or my work or anything remotely related.”

  She looked into eyes fringed with dark lashes—eyes she’d seen amused, angry, aroused—and she answered the way she’d known she would from the beginning.

  “Okay.”

  A quick buss of the lips and he was walking out of the bathroom, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll meet you back here in an hour.”

  “Make it two,” she called after him.

  If she was going to do this—go on a date with this man—she was going to make sure he remembered everything about her. From what she wore to what she didn’t, she would etch herself into his memory.

  It was only fair seeing as he’d already done the same to her.

  * * *

  Liam had sent word via a runner asking Ella to meet him at the head of the beach path nearest the main pavilion. The runner had returned with the message she’d be there. But she was late. Fifteen minutes, to be exact. Every second felt like ten. Every soft footfall against the boardwalk had him searching the evening shadows for her. And then she was there, rounding the bend with the resort lights behind her creating a nimbus around her lithe form.

  She wore a short, sleeveless dress in a green silk that was so dark it appeared black in the shadows. Around her throat was a black choker with a single diamond-encrusted emerald in the center. Matching earrings hung from her ears. The sides of her hair had been pulled up to a loose knot at the crown of her head, leaving waves hanging down her back. The style emphasized her natural beauty. Whatever makeup she wore was understated and enhanced her elegant features. Her tan legs were bare. Dark stilettos with heels so high she moved in a hip-swinging strut made him want to forgo dinner and have her for dessert. His cock was ready to place that order.

  She stopped a couple feet short of him. The air carried the hint of her perfume, a scent he would always associate with her—earthy with a floral undertone, so bold yet feminine.

  He wanted to tell her she looked amazing, but the words were lost, carried away by the flood of testosterone raging through his veins. Every thought in his head involved her, him and a Do Not Disturb sign on a door that would remain locked for the next three days.

  She arched a brow. “Either I’m overdressed or I look like hell and you’re trying to find a nice way to say it.”

  “I’ve been trying... That is, there aren’t words...” Liam cleared his throat. Twice. When he finally spoke, the words were gruff, one hand reaching for her. “Come here.”

  She laughed then and stepped forward, allowing him to pull her into a warm embrace.

  On the patio nearby, a quartet struck up soft dinner music. Liam spun Ella away from him and brought her back, turning her in slow circles, watching her carefully.

  She looked up at him, then tilted her chin even farther and stared at the night sky. “What?”

  “I’m trying to figure out what’s different about you tonight.”

  “Nothing.”

  “Not true. There’s an air about you, something less...intense, maybe? Different, definitely.”

  “My give-a-damn broke.”

  “Pardon?”

  She laughed, softer this time.

  He couldn’t help but think that, if he had to name the color of her eyes tonight, it would be Somber Green in Starlight.

  When did I become such a bloody maudlin poet? Next thing, I’ll need a cigarette and bottle of cheap wine as I tap out bad rhymes on a run-down laptop.

  “So what broke your give-a-damn? I didn’t even know that was a real thing,” he teased.

  “Oh, it absolutely is. And you, Mr. Baggett, will be receiving a bill for breaking it. Shattering it, really.”

  His brows shot up. “Me?”

  “You.”

  “How?”

  “You invited me to dinner without work as a buffer.”

  “I fail to follow your logic.”

  She stopped following his lead, forcing him to cease the intimate dance he’d begun. Moving out of his arms, she took a few steps down the cultivated path, stopping where the sand began. Ella, one hand on a palm tree, balanced on one foot and then the other as she removed her shoes. Then she headed toward the beach.

  “Ella, stop.”

  A short glance back and she did as he bade.

  It took him a second to catch up to her. Toeing his dress shoes off, he retrieved them in one hand and took hers with the other. “I had dinner set up on...” He paused, surprised to find he didn’t want to ruin the romance of the moment he’d spent the last hour creating. “Would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you to our table?” She started to put her shoes back on, but he stopped her. “You won’t need those.”

  One of the event staff approached with a small basket extended. “For your shoes. They’ll be returned to your bungalow, Ms. Montgomery, Mr. Baggett.”

  Curiosity made her tuck her chin in, but she handed her shoes over without comment.

  Liam did the same and then reclaimed her hand. “This way.”

  He led her down the beach and around a bend to a private cove. There, a teak daybed had been set up complete with a champagne bucket staked in the sand, bottle open and chilling. Flowers were scattered across the daybed, and a plate of hors d’oeuvres sat near the foot. A blanket lay artfully over a top corner. At least four dozen large pillar candles were scattered about, their flames whipping in the slight breeze. The flickering candlelight made the night feel more alive and yet more secluded, like they were miles from civilization. On a portable table, four silver domes—two large, two small—covered the meals the chef had prepared.

  Ella paused, seeming to take it all in. She didn’t say anything, but her hold on Liam’s hand tightened.

  He would have given anything to know exactly what that squeeze was meant to convey. Irritation? Surprise? Joy? Anxiety? Too many options ran through his head. She’d reduced him to this person he’d never been, someone who sought the approval of another, someone who wanted nothing more than to make his lover understand
what she meant to him.

  He’d been unable to articulate that and so much more, so he’d tried to show her.

  He squeezed her hand back after several more seconds.

  Still, she was silent.

  And he broke. “For the love of God, woman, would you say something?”

  Her eyes sparkled as a wicked grin spread across her face. “Something.”

  The single whispered word took a moment to register. When it did, Liam let go of her hand and doubled over with laughter. He couldn’t catch his breath. No one was that ballsy with him, pushing him when he was so clearly on edge. He loved that about her, that she refused to let him intimidate her. She was perfect the way she was.

  The sobering thought stole the last peal of laughter, cutting it short.

  ...loved that about her, he’d thought. Perfect the way she was.

  Too much was happening at once.

  “Liam, I can’t believe you did this.”

  “Neither can I,” he said. Liam had discovered the one woman who possessed the ability to convince him love might exist after all.

  And after the last-minute wedding changes he’d made late this afternoon, love might not be enough to save them.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ELLA HADN’T REALIZED that Liam could be quite so charming. While they ate, he was as entertaining as he was attentive, asking about her childhood and telling her stories of his boarding school days and, later, tales that involved a younger American half sister who wanted nothing more than to be one of the boys—right down to her poorly imitated British accent.

  “My mates would chuckle at her behind her back, but Jenna knew. She’d get so cross she would stomp her feet and threaten to divest them of their bollocks long before she knew what bollocks were.”

  He’d been so descriptive that Ella could imagine the pigtailed girl’s tantrums. “Where did she get the idea bollocks were important?”

  “I’m quite sure, us being strapping young lads with quite exaggerated prowess where young ladies were concerned, that she heard us bragging.”