For Love of Passion (Stone Brothers Book 4)

by Samantha Westlake

  "Wow." I wasn't thinking about the mint, the drink. That fire burned brighter than ever inside of me, and I suddenly wanted Tanner to satisfy a different kind of tingle inside of me. "That's smart."

  He shrugged modestly, but his eyes lingered on mine. I reached out for him, running my lightest touch down his chest, feeling how his muscles twitched and flexed at my touch. A little devious voice in my head told me to keep on sliding my hands down, to find the button that held his camouflage pants together at his waist and pop it open.

  Trying to distract myself from those delectably tempting thoughts, I turned and scooped up my drink. It took a couple of tries for me to get the straw into my mouth, but I drained the rest of the glass's contents.

  "Hey, take it easy on those," Tanner remarked, although he took another sip of his own drink as he spoke. "They taste nice and sweet, but there's a lot of alcohol in them. They're called Dancing Queens because, after a couple of them, the bar regulars had a tendency to hop up on the bar and start shaking parts that ought to have stayed still."

  "I think I can handle it," I said, even as that liquid bubbled delightfully through me. It put something into my otherwise empty stomach. "Now, why don't you shut up and kiss me?"

  Inside my head, the logical part of my brain, the part usually in control, gasped in shock. I never spoke that way to anyone! But Tanner didn't know that, and he didn't hesitate in pulling me up against him once again, his hands drawing me in as his mouth met mine and sent me spinning like I was on a merry-go-round. I felt a soft little sound bubble up from deep in my chest, coming out as a little moan of pleasure, a little cry that demanded more from him.

  He enthusiastically gave it. He pulled me towards him, so hard that my legs came up to wrap around his waist. He easily supported my weight, holding me up and turning so that he trapped me between the hard wood of the bar behind me, and the equal hardness of his body in front of me. I felt something pushing in between my spread thighs, and I knew that it had to be his member, erect with his desire for me.

  I don't know how long we kissed, but we kept going until we were both thoroughly breathless. I drew back for a second, looking at Tanner, and that wave of heat inside of me, radiating off the fire burning in my belly, commanded me to bring it more.

  "Helen," Tanner murmured, and I sensed that he wanted to say something.

  But I felt more words bubbling up inside of me. I reached out and pressed one finger against his lips, holding back whatever else he'd been intending on saying. The butterflies in my stomach, which I'd previously thought burned to a crisp by the heat of desire, suddenly fluttered their wings again. Fear burst inside of me, competing against hunger and desire, and I nearly fell off the bar from shaking so badly.

  But I had to say it. I had to get it out. If I ended this story here, I knew that Champagne would howl at me with disappointment – and for once, I couldn't blame her. Hell, even if Marcone himself was here, he'd tell me that I deserved to cut loose at least one night, that I wasn't going to have a better situation fall into my lap.

  "Do you..." I had to focus like crazy, trying to keep my voice from trembling. "Tanner, do you want to come upstairs and see the bedroom?"

  As soon as the words were out, I cringed, wanted to reach out and grab them back and hide them away under the rug before they could reach Tanner's ears. Good lord, could I be any more forward, any more out-of-control? What could he be thinking of me? He'd probably been with far more confident, in control women, women who could truly appreciate his writer's soul, his connections with others that reached so deep-

  "Hey," he said, reaching down and lifting one of my hands up so that he could press his lips against my fingers. "Relax. Take a breath."

  I did as commanded, feeling the shuddering in my chest ease slightly. I met his eyes, looked into those calming pools of blue, and felt some of my fear vanish. Not all of it, but enough so that I could breathe a bit more easily.

  "Are you sure?" he asked, and the flame inside of me gave off another solar flare of heat. I didn't think any other man, any man who would be bad for me, would ever ask such a question.

  I nodded, meeting his gaze. I didn't speak, but hoped that he could read the desire in my dark eyes, my flushed face.

  Evidently, he could. He reached out and once again swept me up, into his arms. He kissed my neck as I draped my arms around him, over his shoulders as my legs tightened around his waist.

  "Where's the bedroom?" he asked me, his voice coming hard with passion.

  "Upstairs," I replied, my fingers tightening into claws to hold to his thin shirt.

  He didn't waste any time in bearing me off, finding the bedroom thanks to my panted instructions.

  And then, falling into bed, he made love to me.

  Chapter Ten

  HELEN

  *

  When we entered my bedroom, I found myself briefly glad of the darkness, ashamed of the mess that was surely still here, the discarded clothes that lay in piles on the floor. If Tanner could see that, the signs of my depression, he'd probably think twice about going through with sleeping with me.

  But all he saw was the bed, and we landed together on it in a tumbled pile of limbs and bodies.

  The fall briefly knocked the air out of me. By the time I could breathe again, Tanner was on top of me, kissing me. I reached up, ran my fingers through his thick hair, pulling him down and against me. His body pressed down, although he was flexing his big, powerfully muscled arms to keep his full weight from settling on me and crushing me. I appreciated that, but I wanted to feel that pressure! I wanted to feel him as a true, red-blooded, powerful man!

  "You don't need to be gentle," I whispered to him when he briefly pulled back. "I want it all."

  He didn't question that command. Instead, I saw a twinkle in his blue eyes – and suddenly, we were rolling together across the bed! We landed with him now beneath me, my legs spread to straddle him. Beneath me, despite the thick fabric of his pants, I felt the throbbing hardness of him pushing up against me. His hands helped hike the black dress up higher, all the way to my waist, revealing the pale skin of my thighs all the way up to my hips, glinting in the dim light of the moon shining in through the bedroom windows.

  No thinking. No second-guessing myself. Just act. I pushed down my hips against him, teased a groan out of him as I slid across that bulge. Only the thin, lacy fabric of my panties separated my body from him, and I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out at the amazing sensation of his roughness on me.

  His hands moved upward, pulling my dress with them. I lifted my hands over my head, tugging the dress up. For a moment, the black fabric obscured my vision, and then it was off, flying away to settle down in its own little pile on the darkened bedroom floor.

  My bra joined it a second later, undone by a single twist of Tanner's flexible fingers. For a second, self-consciousness nearly made me lift my hands to cover myself, but he drew me down on top of him before I could do so. His hands slid up my exposed sides, up over the bumps of my ribs to wrap around my small little breasts, thumbs landing on my nipples. He rubbed in soft circles, and I felt my skin prickle and harden from that arousing touch.

  "Wow," he breathed out. He sat up, rising beneath me so that his mouth could join his fingers in worshipping even my meager little assets on my chest. "You're amazing."

  Me? He thought that I was amazing? I was a scrawny little stick! But I couldn't even cling to any of these thoughts. They were swept away by more surges of fire, and the only sounds I could produce were little moans, high and breathless, as his lips wrapped around one nipple and teased it with his teeth.

  My hands clawed at the undershirt he still wore, pulling it up. For a second, it tangled with his arms and shoulders, but he yanked it off and flung it impatiently aside. I briefly admired the texture of his muscles, but his pants were still beneath me, annoying me with their presence.

  Finally, my fumbling fingers got that button at the top of his pants open. He growled at m
e as he lifted his hips, and I pulled them down, feeling his full member come sliding out.

  Good god. Sure, it had been a while since I'd last touched a man in that particular area, did not have much experience to draw on, but Tanner felt huge! I couldn't hold in a gasp as I wrapped my fingers around him, felt him throb hungrily against my touch.

  "Now, that's what I like to hear," he said hungrily into my ear, as he pulled me down onto his lap.

  My fingers released, and this time he pressed right against the thin fabric of my panties. Already, I could feel myself growing wet, my body reacting instinctively to being so close to a man, to being aroused and ready for him. His hands slipped inside my panties to wrap around the cheeks of my ass, pulling me down, and I gasped again at the pressure and the warmth.

  "Please." I couldn't make myself say anything else, my throat choked with desire, but that word was enough.

  Tanner slipped one hand down between my thighs, his fingers probing and stretching and opening. I moaned again, my hips writhing of their own volition as his strong, powerful fingers touched me, sent little tingles rushing up and down the length of my spine. Heat bloomed in between my thighs, and I felt myself grow even wetter, all but crying out for him to be inside me.

  He dallied for a few more seconds, just playing with me, torturing me. Finally, as I was about to scream from being unable to stand any more, he twitched my panties further aside – and this time, the rod that pressed against my entrance was thicker, longer, and more insistent!

  Once again, surprisingly, Tanner showed a little touch of gentleness. Instead of plunging into me, probably hurting me in the process, he let me settle down on him slowly, at my own pace, rocking back and forth. A good thing, too – he was huge! He could have killed me with that weapon!

  Bit by bit, I felt myself stretching out, taking him deeper inside me. "Oh god," I gasped out as my ass finally bumped again against his hips. I'd done it! I'd taken the man inside of me!

  Tanner just smiled up at me. "You feel so amazing," he murmured. "So tight."

  I nodded, but I couldn't speak. All my focus was on just riding out the overwhelming sensation flowing through me. I could handle it! I could stay in control!

  This lasted up until Tanner once again wrapped his hands around my ass, lifting my entire body up and down, rocking me back and forth to slide in and out of me. At that point, I nearly blacked out from overwhelm.

  The next fifteen or twenty minutes flew by in a blissful cloud of very nearly painful ecstasy. I lost count of how many times Tanner managed to make me come, but it had to be at least as many as I had fingers – although, by the end of it, I couldn't even remember how many fingers belonged on a hand, even! He owned me, dominated me with his strength, switching back and forth from driving hard inside me and using me, to relaxing and letting me find my own rhythm. When I came to a shuddering stop, squeezing my thighs tightly around him and shivering as I moaned wordlessly with wet pleasure burning through me like magma, he let me take as long as he needed.

  Finally, with him on top of me, his body moving powerfully between my spread thighs, I felt him give a little shudder. "Fuck," he groaned out, his voice deep and guttural. I knew instantly that he was finally about to lose control to his own orgasm.

  "Yes, yes," I urged him on in a breathy pant, reaching up to pull his head down. My lips found his. No gentle kiss, this; his teeth almost ground against mine as he panted, as his hips dropped down, making my entire body shake as he filled me to the point where I nearly exploded at taking each thrust.

  Once more, he pushed so deeply inside of me that I almost screamed – and this time, he didn't pull back. His hips convulsed, his whole body shaking against me. I heard him groan out wordlessly, and I knew that he had to be losing control, finally reaching his own orgasm.

  I clung to him, pressing my whole body against him, like a sailor clinging to a life preserver while adrift in a choppy and stormy sea. I couldn't think of anything else beyond this bed, beyond Tanner, beyond all that he'd made me feel tonight. I sobbed as I tried to breathe, and felt hot tears staining my cheeks. I murmured a silent prayer of thanks for the darkness that hid the tears from this man.

  A minute later, Tanner finally, laboriously lifted himself up off me. He rolled off, and we lay side by side, both of us breathing heavily as we waited for those last waves of pleasure to recede. Neither one of us spoke, perhaps afraid to break the little illusion of peace that had settled over us.

  "Bathroom?" Tanner finally asked, his voice still heavy and husky.

  I pointed at the entrance to my bathroom from inside my bedroom. "Through there."

  He got up, moving a little clumsily over to the bathroom. I settled back down into the warmth that he'd left behind on the sheets, inhaling deeply to fill my nostrils with his scent.

  Thankfully, he didn't come back and find me sticking my nose into the place where we'd just made love – no, that wasn't the right term, I corrected myself. This was sex. This wasn't the slow, gentle, almost tender approach of making love – this was pounding passion, waterfalls of pleasure cascading down on us both and nearly drowning us in overwhelm before finally granting us release.

  Tanner came back from the bathroom after another couple minutes, but paused before climbing back into bed. He looked down at me, and I froze, afraid that he was about to say something to ruin the brief little soap bubble of a perfect moment that floated so delicately in the air.

  Instead, he smiled – and held up one finger.

  "Hold on," he said. "I know what this needs." And before I could say anything in response, he left the bedroom, still totally buff and naked!

  Not that I minded that at all, I thought to myself as I watched his bare ass leave. God, but the man had an amazing butt.

  I heard him take the stairs down to the main floor, two at a time. He returned barely a minute later, loud thumping announcing his entrance. He flopped back down on the bed beside me.

  "What did you get?" I asked him.

  He grinned as he held up a bottle of champagne and a couple of glass tumblers. "I didn't see any flutes, but I did notice this down there when I was making the drinks earlier," he said. "Care for a little more nightcap?"

  I ran my eyes over his buff, naked figure, the swell of his pecs before it tapered down to the muscled core of his abs, the chiseled ass that disappeared so tantalizingly into the sheets. "Only if my waiter does a little dance for me as he pours," I said.

  He laughed, passed me a glass. "Heads up!" The cork flew off with a pop, and he filled both our tumblers with sparkling wine. We clinked them together in a toast, and I felt his eyes lingering on my figure. I didn't feel especially proud of my long, skinny legs and lack of any real curves to speak of on my torso, but it didn't seem to put Tanner off in the slightest.

  "So, what do we drink to?" I asked.

  Tanner paused for a moment, tapping his lips with one finger. "To finally finding my muse, and getting all kinds of wonderful inspiration," he said, the corner of his lips curling up ever so slightly as he looked down at me. He held up the glass, but waited to see what I'd add in response.

  I thought for a second. A part of me felt very surprised why I wasn't feeling guilty right now. Had I besmirched the memory of my late husband by daring to not just take another man as a lover, but to have him in my own bed, our bed? I had expected to be sickened by the memory of what I'd just done with Tanner, how I'd just thrown myself at him, given in to my baser desires instead of staying strong, preserving Marcone's memory.

  But I didn't feel guilty. I still remembered Marcone, still missed him like crazy – but Tanner's smile, his gentle touch and his powerful body, had finally satisfied an urge that had been building inside of me for a long time. I hadn't realized how much I needed the touch of a man until he put his hands on me – and then he'd ignited that fire that still burned, hot and deliciously satisfied, inside my belly.

  "To the possibility of a new beginning," I said softly, extending my own tumbler
out to once again bump against Tanner's.

  He looked curiously at me for a moment, but then shrugged and downed half the glass's contents. I tilted my own heavy glass back and did the same, feeling the bubbles rush down my throat to mingle with the simmering heat inside my stomach.

  We didn't even manage to refill the glasses before we were once again in each other's arms, our bodies coming together in wonderfully, sinfully joyous union. Still, we managed to eventually empty the champagne bottle, Tanner helping out with big swigs. It was quite a while before we eventually both drifted off to sleep, together.

  Chapter Eleven

  TANNER

  *

  Present day...

  The next morning, still barely able to wrap my head around the shock of what happened to me the night before, I staggered down the huge wooden flight of stairs that led to the main floor in the O'Callahan mansion – Helen's mansion.

  My fingers reached the bottom of the shirt, and I paused for a second to glance down at the buttons. Why weren't they lining up right? Ah, because I'd screwed up and buttoned the whole damn shirt up unevenly. All my fault – but I could probably make the excuse that my head wasn't exactly focused on getting my shirt right.

  I'd gone home with the Black Widow, the most infamous woman in all the Midwest, if not further! Helen O'Callahan, who, if rumors were to be believed, might possibly have murdered her husband for his incredible wealth. It had worked, it seemed – his death had been declared an accident and quickly covered up, Sebastian Stone had gleefully told me. Helen inherited everything, and promptly shut herself away in his huge mansion. Some people said that she was mourning her dead husband, that she'd truly loved him – but others claimed instead that she was overcome with guilt for bringing about the death of the man she'd seduced for his money and class.

  No one really knew for sure, in large part because the Black Widow basically never left her mansion. Richard had still insisted on sending her an invitation to the Poverty Ball – "it's the right thing to do," he'd gently stated, and refused to budge – but we hadn't expected her to actually show up.