He pulled her down to the plush rug before the fireplace and rolled her to her belly. He straddled her, galvanized by his determination to touch every part of her tonight, to claim her. So he massaged her back and shoulders, then ran his tongue down her spine while she murmured unintelligibly, her arms stretched overhead, her fingers flexing into the rug. Then he rubbed his chin against her back, scratching and tickling with his mustache and cheeks while she laughed, squealed and squirmed.
When she’d had enough, he gentled, soothing her by gliding his lips across her nape until she crooned and purred. Then he turned her limp body onto her back and anchored her hips with his hands.
“Mike,” she said weakly staring at him down the length of her body.
“You know what to do.”
“Oh, God.”
Her thighs opened and her hips rose up to meet him. With a low growl, he put his head between her legs and his tongue on her sex, teasing and tasting her until her eyes rolled closed, tears streamed from the corners of her lids and she sobbed.
It was the most thrilling sound he’d ever heard.
Until she went rigid and cried out his name.
He suckled, milking all the pleasure he could find out of her body until she was as ruined as he was. And then the caveman part of him—and with Dara, he was discovering, he was far more caveman than not—roared for him to mark her with some visible sign that she was his. So, for the first time since his hormone-drenched college days, he latched onto the meaty inner portion of her thigh, bit, sucked and gave her a berry purple love bite. She loved it, crying out and pinning his head in place with her sharp little nails as her hips writhed.
She loved it even more when he did it again to the side of her breast.
Then, finally, it was time for him to claim that last part of her body. Ripping the foil package open with his teeth, he got his clumsy hands to behave long enough to sheathe himself. Then he held his penis and rubbed it insistently back and forth over her sex. She clamped her strong legs around his waist and pulled him closer.
Her heavy-lidded eyes sparkled with tears as she turned her face up to his. “Just do it. Stop torturing me.”
“You don’t know how much I need you.”
“You’re killing me, too. You know that, right?”
“Die for me, then.”
Surrendering at last to his need, he thrust deep inside her with one sure stroke. They both gasped; he was pretty sure something popped in his brain. There was no way he could have anticipated how exquisitely tight she was, or how strongly she would grip him. Her slick muscles clamped down around him and his control—what little he’d had left—went up in flames.
He circled his hips once, twice, and she cried out again, scratching his back and adding to his pleasure. Her shuddering spasms went on and on, clenching and unclenching around him until his mind emptied of every coherent thought but two: She was his now.
He couldn’t ever give her up.
“Don’t you ever leave me, Dara.”
He inched out of her—slowly, slowly, torturing himself far worse than he tortured her—and she arched in response, rising up to meet him stroke for stroke.
“This is what I’ve wanted since the second I saw you.” He eased back inside. “This is what I want every time I look at you. Look at me.”
Her eyes, dazed and unfocused, fluttered open. She was sweaty and precious, everything he wanted and far more than he deserved. And she was his.
“I need you,” he told her, pinning her to the floor by thrusting as deep as he could possibly go. Her eyes rolled closed again and her kiss-swollen lips curled with unmistakable rapture. Dara, like this, was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Ever could see. He’d sell his soul to freeze time at this moment. “Don’t you ever leave me. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
That was what he needed. Easing back inside her, he picked up his rhythm, pumping harder, driving toward an ecstasy from which he knew he would never recover.
And then, he shattered.
He cried her name over and over again, astonished a man could experience such searing pleasure and live.
We’ve done it, he thought wildly, tightening his arms around her.
There was no going back.
At some point during the night—dinner forgotten entirely—they made it upstairs and into his massive king-sized four-poster bed. She lay propped up on the pillows, with his head nestled between her bare breasts, his hands absently stroking her skin while she ran her fingers through his wavy hair.
“Sean called me today,” Mike said sleepily, shifting over and settling on his own pillow so he could see her. “Again. I’ve been dodging him.”
“Yeah. Me, too. When will we tell him?”
His eyes wavered, and he looked away. “I don’t know. That part’s going to be hard.”
“Why don’t you two get along?”
Mike hesitated for so long she wasn’t sure he’d answer. Finally, he sighed.
“Sean was the greatest kid in the world.” He smiled at some distant memory. “I loved him. I remember the day they brought him home from the hospital. I felt like he was my baby. I looked out for him. I taught him everything I knew. I stuck up for him. I took him everywhere with me.”
“Did you fight?”
“Hardly ever. We got on each other’s nerves, but never anything serious. He was so much fun, you know? He was funnier than any of my friends. And I was always serious, so I needed someone around like Sean.” His face clouded over. “But he could never focus. He never studied, never did his chores, never stuck through a whole season of a sport—”
“And you focused enough for two or three people,” she interjected.
“That’s right. Things always seemed to come pretty easily to me—”
“Sports, school, girls.”
His smile was slow and lazy. “Yeah. Especially the girls.”
She could just imagine. Irritated by her irrational jealousy, she jabbed him in the ribs. He caught her hands and kissed her wrists. She froze immediately.
“Do you want to hear this or not?”
She snatched her hands away and tried to tamp down her renewed arousal. “I’m trying to listen.”
Mike’s smile faded as he stared off in the distance again.
“Things started to change when he hit high school. Maybe because he was always failing and I was doing well. He started getting pissed off about everything. Pissed off at the coach for making him run harder, at his pet hamster when it died, at my parents because he thought they favored me. Mostly pissed off at me.”
“Nice.”
“He always thinks it’s bad luck that good things don’t happen to him. Nothing in his life is ever his own responsibility. And I would always cover for him because I couldn’t stand to see him in trouble. I made excuses with my parents and with his friends and girlfriends. I don’t know how he made it through college. I guess he had someone else there to enable him since I wasn’t around.”
“You did the best you could to be a good brother.”
He grunted.
“You did,” she insisted. “I know you did. That’s who you are.”
“When he graduated, he messed around with a couple of jobs, then I hired him because he said he wanted to be a lawyer, but his grades alone weren’t good enough to get him into law school. I knew a couple years as a paralegal, plus me putting in a good word for him, would probably get him in. And that’s what happened. We’ll see if he makes it through.”
“How did he do when he worked for you?”
Wry laugh. “Terrible. I don’t know why I expected anything different. He was late and disorganized. He lost files. He missed deadlines. The staff was resentful. It was two years of misery, but I couldn’t fire him. Finally, when he went back to school, I told him I was done with the favors.” Mike paused. “He told me to go fuck myself.”
“There’s nothing else
you can do.”
He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, his chin resting on her shoulder as he threaded his hands through her hair. “Our relationship was screwed up long before you came along.”
“I’m sorry anyway.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
It was very late, probably well past two. The scented candles he’d lit hours ago and put on the nightstand had long since burned down. Even though she’d achieved a state of supreme relaxation and contentment, Dara didn’t want to let go of tonight.
She laid her head on Mike’s chest, stroking the tiny hairs around his nipples.
“We need to go to sleep,” she said, yawning. “Otherwise, Jamal will take one look at our bleary eyes tomorrow and know what we’ve been up to.”
“He probably knows already, but yeah. And tomorrow’s a busy day. We’ve got Aidan Sullivan coming in for trial prep.”
“I’ve read so much about his accident and his life in the wheelchair, I feel like I know him already.” She slipped out of his arms and off the edge of the bed. “When I get back, it’s definitely time for sleep.”
He scowled and reached for her arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To the bathroom.” She laughed and twisted out of his reach. “Do you mind?”
“Yeah, I mind. You’ve got ten seconds. Better yet, I’ll come with you.”
“I’m not going anywhere, so pace yourself, okay?” she said, still laughing. “At this rate, you’ll be sick of me by Friday.”
“Doubtful. I’m a little out of control. I feel like a kid in a candy store.”
“You’re not the only one,” she softly told him, her smile fading as she soaked in the thrilling sight of him stretched out in bed, his muscular chest and arms smoothly brown against the white sheets, a noticeable and growing bulge between his legs.
His gaze heated, slipping to her breasts. In response, her nipples pebbled and ached for his touch.
All she could do was sigh helplessly, everything else forgotten.
“Mike.”
He rose to his knees and scooted to the edge of the bed. “Come here.”
Moving automatically, she stepped back to the bed and into his arms. There was no gentle in him this time, which was good, because she needed his raw urgency. His fingers twisted in her hair, pulling her head back so he could bury his lips in the hollow of her neck, and the rumbling noises of his passion vibrated through her.
Utterly lost, she shuddered and reveled in every touch and every part of him, moaning loudly because there was no room for self-consciousness when they came together like this.
His voice was low and harsh between his kisses. “There were days ...in the office ...It felt like my skin was on fire because I wanted you so much.”
“And now?” she said, gasping.
He gave a hoarse, bewildered laugh. “And now it’s worse. You’re part of me now. You’re my obsession, Dara.”
“Obsessions are bad.”
“No, sweetheart.” He pulled her back beneath him, flipping her over onto her stomach. “Not this one.”
After slipping on a condom, he slid over her and used his knee to spread her legs wide. Her hips lifted automatically, and he entered her with one hard stroke. Dara bucked beneath him, squeezing her legs and butt together around him. She drove him wild, and he used her mercilessly—pounding them both into oblivion.
Dara woke up facedown, the tangled sheets and blankets wrapped around her waist, and immediately reached across the bed for Mike. He wasn’t there. Frowning, she sat up and forced her tired eyes open. It was still dark, although a thin sliver of light shone from underneath the closed master bathroom door, and she heard the faint sound of water running.
The alarm clock read five-thirty. She’d gotten two hours of sleep, if that.
She stretched her arms over her head, reveling in the delicious ache that originated between her thighs and permeated every part of her body. Mike had worked areas that yoga and Pilates could never hope to reach.
Following him to the bathroom, she squinted against the sudden infusion of light. The steamy air felt wonderful after the slight chill of the bedroom. He stood in the far comer of the large shower, his back to her. Bracing himself against the sand-colored tiles in front of him, he leaned down to let the powerful spray soak his head.
Technically, after the night they’d just had, sex should be the last thing on her mind, but her body hadn’t gotten the memo and tightened with renewed awareness. Fascinated, she watched the ripple and play of muscles in his sculpted arms, shoulders, and back as he straightened and began to wash his hair. His butt was a perfect basketball—high, round, solid as a slab of marble. Long, powerful thighs tapered to shapely calves. The water splashing over him, running in various and thrilling channels and grooves down his body, only highlighted his perfection.
She opened the shower door and stepped inside behind him, sliding her hands up his back and pressing her body full against his.
He froze.
“I thought you might need some help with the hard spots,” she murmured in his ear.
Mike faced her, smiling.
“Good thought.”
He took a washcloth from the rack and lathered it with soap, his glittering eyes never leaving hers. She took it, and he turned back around while she rubbed his back in languid circles, which left him murmuring unintelligibly with pleasure.
“Now you.” He took the cloth back, reached over her shoulder, and trailed it down between her breasts to her belly button, where he increased the pressure. Her body jerked. She pressed closer to him, whimpering, but he gently pushed her away.
“Not yet.”
He circled the cloth on her breasts, deliberately keeping his touch light and teasing. She arched her back, thrusting her breasts into his hands, but he retreated again.
“Please,” she begged.
His hand moved lower, to her engorged sex. She cried out. He pressed his lips to her ear. Helplessly, she turned her head, moving closer.
“Please what, Dara?”
Her eyes rolled closed and her head fell back. She caught his hand and tried to pull his fingers back to her sex, but he circled around her core, as if he didn’t quite understand what she wanted.
“Please, Mike. Please . . .”
He stroked her firmly, once. She writhed. He bit the tender hollow between her neck and shoulder.
“God,” she gasped.
He stroked her again. “What is it you want, Dara?”
She swallowed hard. “I want you to touch me. I want you inside me. I’m begging you. I’ll do anything.”
“Since you asked so nicely.”
His fingers circled and stroked her bud, and then he thrust two fingers inside. Dara went rigid, the pleasure hitting her in tsunami-sized waves as he palmed her. He was like a bloodhound, flushing out any hidden deposits of ecstasy until there was nothing left inside her.
It took her a long minute to recover.
When she opened her eyes, she focused immediately on his rampant erection.
Mike went stock-still.
“You’re going to pay for that.”
“What did you have in mind?” he asked warily.
Smiling, she took him in her hands as she knelt. His breath hissed and he slumped against the wall. She looked up in time to see his eyes drift closed and his head fall back.
Thrilled with herself, she lowered her head.
Eventually he left her to finish her shower while he dressed. By the time he came back in the bathroom, suit on, briefcase in hand, she’d wrapped a towel around her hair and body. He came up behind her, circled her waist with his free arm and kissed her nape, catching her eye in the mirror.
“Sullivan’s coming at nine. You’ll be there?”
“I’ll be there. The trial’s in two weeks. Are you ready?”
“Getting there. I’m way ahead of the game with the witness outlines you’ve put together for me.”
“Good,�
�� she said, enormously pleased.
“And then you have finals right after Thanksgiving.”
She made a face. “Don’t remind me. The only good thing about finals is that I have the world’s greatest tutor on twenty-four-hour standby.”
His flat hand slid up her waist to her breasts, where he rubbed his palm over one nipple, then the other. The terrycloth towel abraded her skin in the most delicious way, making her hum with contentment.
“I’m glad to hear I’m the world’s greatest at something.”
His glittering gaze held hers in the mirror.
She flushed. “Oh, you’re the world’s greatest at a couple of things I can think of.”
“Good.” He grinned with unmistakable satisfaction. “We make a good team, don’t we, Dara?”
“A very good team.”
“I left an extra key and the security code on the nightstand for you,” he told her, skimming his lips over her nape again. “Lock up when you leave.”
“Okay.”
“Dinner tonight?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Dinner?”
He grazed her earlobe with his teeth. “Dinner ...and other things.”
“Okay.”
Turning her to face him, he kissed her thoroughly, then slowly let her go.
“I’ll see you soon, angel.”
“Bye.”
She tried to go back to getting ready, but as soon as she heard the front door shut behind him, emptiness set in. Close on its heels came morning-after doubts.
She was really in it now, wasn’t she? There was no going back after she’d given herself to him body and soul. If he wanted to make her his slave, she was helpless to do anything about it. Hell, he’d even branded her and she’d rejoiced in it. Easing aside the edges of the robe, she rubbed the vivid love bites he’d left on her breast and thigh, each about the size of a quarter.
She laughed shakily, grateful Mike wasn’t a vampire because God knew she’d eagerly bare her neck so he could drink her dry.
Yeah, there were no two ways about it: She was absolutely, positively his woman now and doubted she could ever be anyone else’s.
Was he equally her man?
A shadow crossed her heart because the honest answer was, she didn’t know.
Trouble Page 19