Getting Red-Hot with the Rogue

by Ally Blake

  Her arms stretched out straight in front of her. This time it was his turn to lay a hand in hers.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, her brow furrowed, her expression earnest.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For coming over. For not trying to prolong my hope about Felix, thinking that might help. For telling me about Lilliana.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘You’re a good guy.’

  ‘Now don’t go thinking nice things about me. You’ll only be disappointed.’

  She shook her head. ‘You have a good heart. You should use it more often.’

  ‘For the betterment of mankind?’

  ‘Why not?’

  Her fingers curled around his, weaving in and out, warming them, leaving them bare, creating enough friction in his hands alone to set the rest of him ablaze.

  Her constant ability to believe he had a noble side to him was one of the rare pleasant surprises of believing the worst. And one of the reasons he had to slide his hands away and stand.

  ‘Now it’s getting late.’

  ‘So it is.’ She tilted her head and smiled up at him and it took every ounce of self-control he had not to kneel down before her and kiss his way up those cruelly tempting bare legs, starting with the hot-red toenails.

  ‘And it is a school night,’ he added.

  ‘Right you are.’ She pushed herself upright with all the energy of someone who’d just run a marathon.

  She padded to the front door. He followed. Her petite form filled out her tiny dress to perfection. Her hips swayed adorably with each footfall. Against the black of her dress her pale skin glowed. The nakedness from her neck to that one bare shoulder cried out to be stroked.

  She turned at the door, her hands behind her back clasping the handle. But the door remained closed.

  He clenched his back teeth and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. ‘Are you going to be okay?’

  She nodded, shrugged, then shook her head. ‘Eventually.’

  She blinked fast as her eyes focused in the middle of his chest. When she looked back at him he knew what she was going to say before she even said it.

  ‘Wynnie—’ he warned, trying to cut her off.

  But she pushed away from the door and padded to him, stopping only when she was close enough he could make out every eyelash, every fleck of colour in her beautiful eyes, every nuance of desire she felt for him.

  Her voice cracked when she said, ‘I don’t want to be alone tonight.’

  All the blood in his body shot to the region of his fly. Well, almost all—enough oxygen flittered around his brain for him to give himself one last shot at actually being noble. ‘I left out the fact that I now know there was good reason for Lilliana to have never loved me, you know.’

  She blinked up at him, unmoved.

  ‘I’m a cold-hearted bastard. I’m insular, I’m jaded, a workaholic, I’m ruthless and I’m self-serving. I don’t do forever, I rarely even do “I’ll call you tomorrow”. And just because I’m here now it does not mean if you ask me to stay I will.’

  She reached up and placed a soft hand on his chest. He breathed in deep, which only filled his nostrils with her sweet scent. This woman, this persistent, tangled, beautiful woman who saw him not just as a Kelly, but as the man who could help her save the world.

  She repeated, ‘I don’t want to be alone tonight.’

  The breath bled from his lungs, and his self-control along with it. ‘Then you don’t have to be.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  WITHOUT another word, Wynnie took Dylan by the hand and led him into her bedroom.

  White furniture, white linen, white lilies in a vase on the dresser. The only splash of colour came from a fat potted palm in the corner.

  She reached up and stroked a finger down his cheek and his eyes slid back to her. ‘But I need you to know I didn’t go to your parents’ place on Sunday to pitch the proposal to them.’

  He brushed her hair behind her ear. ‘I know.’

  Her right cheek lifted into the sexiest smile he’d ever seen. He ran his thumb over the dimple it left behind. ‘And I didn’t have you investigated so that I could use your background against you.’

  ‘You didn’t?’

  His smile was rueful. At least she was smart enough to doubt him—that made him feel slightly less of a cad. He slid the butterfly clip from the chignon at the back of her head and let her hair fall through his fingers. ‘You intrigued me to the point of distraction. I needed something to make you go away.’

  She swallowed. ‘I’m guessing you found one or two.’

  His hand cupped her chin as his eyes slid to hers. ‘You’re guessing wrong.’

  ‘For a pair of professional communicators, we both have a lot to learn.’

  ‘Mmm. Let this be lesson number one.’ He leant down to her, slowly, carefully. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and just as her eyes fluttered closed he kissed her. Feather-light.

  The subtlety of the touch was the most exquisite kind of hell, and no less than he deserved for giving into his irrepressible desire for her right when she was at her most vulnerable.

  He kissed her again, barely touching, playing, teasing and taking her breath and her warmth in the tiniest increments he could handle.

  When suddenly she pressed up onto her tiptoes, grabbed handfuls of his T-shirt and kissed him back.

  Lights exploded behind his eyes as her soft warm body melted against him. Her mouth opened wide beneath his, welcoming him in. He’d made himself forget just how good this felt, as though remembering the taste and feel of her would mean he might not be able to give her up.

  But, God, this was even better than everything he’d tried to forget. It was as though he could hear her very thoughts. He felt every emotion she had whirling inside her in that kiss—her anger at Felix, her frustration with herself, her confusion about how she felt about him, and how he felt about her.

  She snuck a hand behind his head, changed angles and kissed him deeper, harder, more lushly. He almost lost complete control of himself then and there.

  He wrapped his arms about her small form and lifted her off the ground. They tumbled onto her bed, legs intertwined, lips joined, hands grasping and clawing and trying to find skin where there was none to be found.

  ‘Wait,’ she called out and he all but leapt from on top of her.

  The reprieve was like a life ring to a drowning man. He ran a fast hand through his thick hair, leaving it spiking in goodness knew how many directions.

  Then he was forced to watch as she lifted her hips off the bed, slid the thick belt from her dress and threw it across the room before whipping her dress over her head, leaving herself naked, bar a pair of innocuous black underpants.

  He barely had the chance to take his fill of her soft curves before she dragged him back into her arms.

  But suddenly he was wearing far too many clothes.

  He dragged his blazer from his back and whipped his T-shirt over his head between kisses. Her groans as he left her lips unattended were the most unendurable siren calls. But he knew this building tension, he knew her body so intimately, he knew it would all be worth it in the end.

  He flipped onto his back, his fingers on the top button of his fly, when her hand stilled his progress.

  The primal roar of defeat that built up inside him would have burst every window in the house.

  Until her fingers peeled his back and took over. She was on her knees beside him, her breathing rate calm considering the circumstances, her dark eyes on the job at hand.

  One button. His head fell back onto the bed.

  A second button. He curled his fingernails into the bedspread.

  The third button snapped and he jerked as the backs of her knuckles scraped against his erection.

  She swung a leg over his thighs until her centre nestled against the bottom of his fly. She shifted closer, her legs spreading wider and her eyes turned to coal.

  This i
s insane, he thought. Pure sublime insanity.

  She leant forward, her small full breasts tipping forward, their pink peaks making his mouth water. Then her hand slid between his open fly and his cotton boxers and she cupped him as her teeth bit down on the softest part of his ear lobe.

  He lasted about ten seconds before the fire inside him became too much. Even though he fought against the wrongness of what he was doing, he wasn’t near ready for it to end. If they were going to do something foolish, they might as well do it right.

  In one smooth move he tilted his ear out of reach of her transcendent teeth, grabbed her blessed hand, lifted a knee between her thighs and rolled her onto her back.

  Her adorable frown as she realised she’d been usurped was almost his undoing.

  ‘Trust me,’ he growled.

  Time ticked by. Time in which he could have decided to be a better man and left her to get over him in peace.

  But when her brow cleared, her eyes turned to molten gold, and she lifted her arms above her head in complete surrender, his position on the dark side was forever cemented.

  He rid them both of the last of their clothes.

  He slid her left knee to a right angle and pinned it to the bed with his leg, then set to teasing his tongue over every inch of her that had drawn his eye at any time since he’d first met her—the inside of her delicate wrists, the sexy dip above her clavicle, the tiny crease at the corner of her luscious lips.

  He slowly drew her breast into his mouth. Then as she began to writhe beneath him his tongue circled her nipple. He didn’t stop until she cried out from the pain of it.

  Then when he knew she could stand it no longer, and with his leg still pressing hers apart, he cupped her.

  He knew her so well. Every whimper, every flicker of pleasure lighting her golden eyes, every jerk beneath his hand. He knew her as if she’d been made to be pleasured by him and him alone.

  The beauty and instinct of her response to him took him on the ride right along with her. Every whisper of heat that curled through her undulating body curled through him. Every catch of breath seared his own lungs. Every time their eyes connected he felt as if he knew her as well as he knew only himself.

  His need soon became too great to ignore. He stroked his thumb against the perfect juncture between her legs and she bucked against him, grabbing his arms for support as she spilled apart beneath his touch.

  But he didn’t stop there. He couldn’t. The moment her breaths grew comfortable he brought her to the brink again. The look in her dark eyes as she clung to him was almost furious but at the same time she silently begged him to never stop.

  When her own body gave way beneath the billows of pleasure, Dylan kissed her hard, drinking in her every breath, every moan until he was beyond ready for his own release.

  How he’d managed to keep so long from doing so he had no idea. His patience, his absolute need to draw things out as long as he possibly could, even while he ached for her, while his erection remained strong and ready, was coming from somewhere other-worldly.

  He glanced at his jeans. Too bloody far away. There was a condom in his wallet. He needed it now. But before he had the chance to tell her, she wrapped her legs about his hips and drew him in.

  He slid inside her, a perfect fit. The sensation of skin on skin a phenomenon. The combination of friction and heat, and passion, and abandon and the wild, natural beauty of the woman in his arms took him somewhere he’d never been near before; she took him to the edge of heaven.

  Clear, perfect, flawless, blameless, aspiring heaven.

  And they made love as though they both knew it would be the last time. As if a lifetime’s worth of pleasure had to be reaped from that one experience.

  Dylan closed his eyes and tried not to imagine that he would never have an experience like it again. He let everything go bar the feel of her, the scent of her, the taste of her and finally, eventually, relief came.

  Dylan woke up, stretched his arms over his head and opened his eyes. A wide-brimmed ceiling fan sent long shadows across a white ceiling. He was not in his own bed.

  He glanced sideways to face a curtain of silky dark hair splayed across a white pillow and a pale naked back glowing in the moonlight.

  Wynnie….

  He reached out to run his hand down her beautiful back, then stopped himself just in time. Making love to her had been selfish enough, prolonging any kind of connection would be plain cruel.

  He pushed the sheet aside, slid from the bed, stepped into his jeans and collected the rest of his clothes before padding silently from the room.

  He stopped at the doorway, allowing himself one last glance. She looked so young, so fresh, so unsullied. He’d always thought himself a cut above his whole life. A Kelly with the privilege, smarts, sense and pride that came with it. But looking at that peaceful face he knew Wynnie deserved far better than him.

  He moved into the kitchen and finished dressing. And that was when he saw the postcard that had set this unexpected night in motion propped on the bench by a bowl of loose change.

  So innocuous looking. So tactless.

  If Jack ever did track her brother down he’d ring the kid’s skinny neck for what he’d done to his sister. Not just the once but over and over again for every time he reached out, yet gave her nothing real to hold on to.

  Dylan grabbed the postcard, found a pen, turned over the card to its blank white back and did what the kid ought to have done himself.

  He wrote: ‘Sun’s shining. Having a blast. Wish you were here.’

  Once it was too late to take them back, he ran his thumb over the words, hoping she would never guess that, for the five seconds he had taken to write them, the words could well have come from him.

  He propped the postcard writing side out where she’d left it and he walked out of her cottage and out of her life just as he’d warned her he would.

  Dylan shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and turned the collar of his jacket up to stave off the cool night air as he jogged out to his car.

  That was it. Enough was enough. The time had come for him to snap back into focus and get on with the life he’d known before she came along.

  Because the corner he’d backed himself into—the titanic responsibility of protecting his prodigious family from every kind of harm, no matter what he might have to sacrifice in order to do so—was so large a part of who he now was, going back there was all he knew how to do.

  Wynnie trudged into the office late Friday morning, feeling like a wrung-out rag.

  The postcard, half a bottle of wine, half a tub of ice cream, Dylan, the postcard…How she managed to get out of bed at all was a testament to her dedication to her work.

  She pushed her sunglasses higher onto her nose to cut out the glare of the overhead lights and wondered how on earth she could stand going another round of phone calls to CEOs and managing directors who didn’t want to give her the time of day.

  Dedication, schmedication. After she checked her messages she was going to take a sickie and that was that.

  Because last night…She’d shown Dylan exactly how she felt about him. She knew he’d seen she was in deep, and that was why he’d stayed. He’d all but told her he wasn’t in the same place, and that was why he’d left.

  Still, when she’d seen the fresh handwriting on the postcard her heart had leapt. Till she had realised his sweet words had been his way of telling her he knew why she’d been so steadfast with Felix even though the kid didn’t know it himself.

  Family first, that was what he’d been telling her. For her. And for him. It had been his way of setting her free.

  And now her heart felt as if it had been bruised, stung, poisoned and flicked with sharp fingernails. It seemed she’d never learn.

  She turned the corner into her office and was met with a standing ovation from all the staff. She stumbled backwards, knocking over a potted mulberry plant and losing her sunglasses down her top.

  Once she’
d righted herself she looked over her shoulder to see what she was missing.

  Hannah stepped forwards from the crowd. ‘Where the hell have you been?’ she whispered through a massive toothy smile.

  ‘Errands,’ Wynnie said, rather than, I slept through my alarm because I was up much of the night having hot break-up sex with a possible client of ours who I was never really going out with even though I’m fairly sure that I am actually crazy in love with. ‘Do you want to tell me what on earth’s going on?’

  ‘It’s been one hell of a morning. Faxes, e-mails, the phones have been ringing off the hook.’

  ‘And…?’

  Hannah stepped back, spread her arms at Wynnie as if she were the prize on a game show and shouted, ‘And Eric Carlisle from the Kelly Investment Group just rang to say that all terms proposed by you have been agreed to and that he will be the new point man on the CFC/KInG joint venture.’

  The office went crazy once more, this time throwing confetti at her made of crushed two-minute noodles they’d probably found in the staff kitchen. When champagne corks started popping Wynnie ducked her head and made a beeline for the washroom.

  She wrapped her hands around the edge of the cold sink and waited until her heavy breathing settled into a non-fainting type rhythm. Then she let go, and pulled her hair off her face and looked at herself in the mirror.

  Somehow she looked just fine. Her hair was neat and bouncing. Her make-up was flawless. Her deep purple velvet top with its plunging neckline, and her skin-tight, pre-loved designer jeans were just saucy enough for her workmates to shake their heads and think, Wow, weren’t we clever to hire this spitfire. She didn’t look as though she’d been to hell, and heaven and back again in the past twenty-four hours.

  She was so damned good at her job of making people think what she wanted them to think nobody even knew when she was a raging mess.

  Nobody except Dylan. Barely three words into the phone call and he’d known.

  The washroom door swung inwards, and Hannah’s head popped through. ‘Sweetie. Whatcha doing in here?’