The Lost Tycoon

by Melody Anne

  Her anguish faded; the questions running through her head stopped. All she could feel, all she could think about, all she could concentrate on, was Bryson. She needed him to take this away — take away the choices, the decisions, the life-changing questions.

  She needed him to take…her.

  “Please, Bryson. Please touch me,” she begged. She turned her head and leaned upward, her lips softly flitting across his solid jaw, satisfaction filling her when he trembled in her arms.

  “You’re vulnerable right now,” Bryson argued, fighting to maintain control, but his rebellious hands moved down past the small of her back and gripped her luscious behind, pulling her tightly against his solid erection.

  “That’s why I need you. Too many people have hurt me…too many times. I can’t remember sleeping one night — not a single night — where I felt safe, where I felt that, when I woke up, the world would be a little bit better. I just need this night. I need to be in your arms, and I need to feel what real pleasure is. Just once,” she begged, her mouth now at his neck. She bit down gently on the skin before sucking it, wetting it with her tongue.

  He knew this was it. Either he pulled away, took her into the living room and held her until she fell asleep, or he took her lips. There was no turning back if he did this. No way of redeeming himself. When she nipped his neck again, his mind shut off.

  At least hell was warm…

  “I have to have you,” he groaned before one hand flew up her back and clasped the back of her head, tilting her face upward so he could bend down and taste her beautiful mouth.

  Their lips crashed together like a wave hitting the shore, shattering any and all doubts that this could possibly be wrong.

  He wanted her — there was no doubt about it, from the urgency of his mouth to the feel of his arousal pressing against her stomach, demanding to be freed from the tight confines of his clothes.

  If she didn’t have him, she would never make it through this storm; she would just float out to sea, never to be found again. She moved her arms up his body, wound them around his neck, and pressed even closer.

  His tongue explored her mouth, sending sensations through her unlike anything she’d ever known, and making her core tighten in anticipation.

  She’d never felt any craving for sex, not even once. It had been something she was either forced to have or thought she had to have, but it had never been pleasurable. Yet from the way she was feeling now, she hadn’t a single doubt that this would be earth-shattering. This would be what she’d dreamt about when she read a romance or watched a sappy movie.

  This would be worth the buildup of the games they’d been playing for weeks, months.

  If this was the only night the two of them had together, she wanted it to last. She knew she was pushing him, and she knew he’d regret it. He was too ethical and this broke the rules. But to hell with the rules. For this brief moment, she felt nothing but pleasure, and she deserved that — deserved to feel alive and free.

  He broke away and she dragged oxygen inside her lungs while his mouth moved down the curve of her jaw, and then his teeth clamped on to the skin of her neck, causing a sting that he quickly soothed with his tongue.

  “What are you doing to me?” he growled, passion and confusion in his voice. But his mouth traveled back to hers, and he took her lips again, accepting nothing less than her complete submission.

  She could ask the same of him, ask for his surrender — but she already had it.

  One minute she was fully clothed, and the next she wasn’t. She’d been so focused on his mouth that she hadn’t even noticed when he stripped off her slacks and her panties. But she noticed now, when his long fingers gripped her backside and he lifted her, spreading her thighs apart as he set her on the counter, slipped between her legs, and, still clothed, pressed his erection against her aching core.

  “Oh, my,” she groaned, her head falling back. “Too much…” It was all too much — the sensation, the feelings, the raw need.

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  Did she hear fear in his voice that she had changed her mind?

  “Never!” she cried, and he immediately plundered her mouth again, capturing the moan rumbling through her as his hands squeezed the flesh of her bare behind.

  “I can’t get enough of you,” he groaned. He trailed his tongue down her jaw, but this time he didn’t stop. He let his hands move up her sides, then captured the top of her blouse and yanked. The material gave way easily, ripping apart and offering her panting chest to his mouth.

  Tugging on her bra, he freed her breasts, and they spilled out, reaching for him. He didn’t keep her waiting. His mouth found one nipple and suckled it to a pointed peak before he moved over and gave the same pleasure to the other one.

  “More,” she demanded.

  Misty fell backward, her back held up only by the cupboards behind her while his mouth worshipped her breasts, leaving her even hungrier than before.

  When he moved downward to her navel, she shook, but not in alarm at his clear intent. She needed more, and that’s what he gave her. His mouth circled her wet heat and then his tongue was doing things to her she’d never dreamed of. She screamed when the first pulses slammed into her, then moaned long and deep as he sucked on her swollen bud, drawing out her pleasure in wave after wave of sensation.

  Before she could gain her breath back, he was standing again, his mouth glistening with her pleasure, his eyes wild as he gazed at her, animal-like, hungry.

  “You are even more beautiful than I imagined,” he whispered, his voice raw with passion. “And I imagined being with you. I imagined it a lot.”

  “Take me, Bryson; take me right now.”

  It didn’t seem possible, but his eyes grew even more feral and predatory as he reached down and freed himself. She felt an instant of disappointment that she didn’t get to see him in all his glory before he was pressed against her. But he was now sliding inside her and any thought of disappointment vanished.

  “Ohhh…” was all she got out before he began pumping his hips, a sublime pressure mounting within her as be began moving quickly in and out of her flesh, building an even more intense explosion inside her body.

  All she could do was grip his arms and moan as she looked into his face, his eyes and their powerful heat shining back at her. He held her buttocks as he moved harder, faster, longer with each stroke.

  When he leaned in and kissed her, his mouth almost frantic, his body quaking, she released again, crying out as this second round of pleasure seemed almost to tear her in half with its intensity.

  With his own cry, Bryson pulled out and she felt hot liquid spill out on her thighs, the sensation heating her all over again.

  “I’m sorry,” he gasped.

  “I’m not,” she said.

  “No. I…I forgot to protect you. I’m sorry. I pulled out, though…I think in time,” he said, his face against her neck.

  She wasn’t sure who was holding up whom.

  “Oh” was her only reaction. That had been foolish, very foolish. It would be fine, though. He’d caught it, right?

  “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said. He moved away reluctantly, leaving her shivering on the counter and unable to move. She was too afraid her legs would fail her.

  He quickly returned with a washcloth. Was this the end of their night? Would he now leave? The thought left her full of dread, but she’d done enough begging tonight.

  If he wanted to go, she wouldn’t stop him.

  Neither of them spoke.

  Then, so gently that her eyes stung with tears, he slid his hands beneath her legs and back, cradled her close, and began carrying her through the house. When he reached her room, he laid her on the bed, reached into his back pocket and set something on the nightstand, and then removed his clothes. Sliding beneath the covers, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her with aching sweetness.

  “With the power out, it will take two of us to keep warm,” he said, th
ough a heater was the last thing she needed. Her body was on fire.

  “Great thinking.”

  No more thoughts intervened, because he was kissing her again, taking his time now — they had all night, after all. He drew away her ragged shirt and kissed her stomach. He let his hands glide slowly up her bare back, and that’s when he felt the light ridges there.

  He froze for a moment, and then, after turning her on her stomach, he kissed along her spine. The candlelight didn’t give him much of a view, but it cast enough of a glow to reveal scars from what looked like years of torture. He knew what she’d been through with Jesse — he just didn’t know what she’d been through before that man. Her body was trying to tell him the story.

  His heart ached as he kissed each scar he felt.

  “Bryson?” She murmured his name as she tried to turn from his scrutiny. “Don’t look at my back. It’s grotesque,” she said, her voice choked.

  “It’s beautiful, just like the rest of you, Misty,” he replied, preventing her from twisting away as his fingers gently drifted across her skin. “You are so beautiful,” he repeated over and over again until she stopped struggling against him, his lips and fingers just a whisper against her delicate skin.

  If he did nothing else this night, he needed to show her how incredible she was — that the scars didn’t detract from her exquisite beauty. Not one whit.

  Seeing them made him only more protective of her, filled him with a greater need to make sure she was never hurt again.

  Caressing her body — this time, he was unhurried — he got lost in her once again, for the rest of the stormy night.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I should let you get some sleep.”

  If humans could purr, that’s exactly what Misty would have been doing, purring as she rubbed her paws against his impressively solid chest. Though his heart was beating easily now, it had been pounding half an hour earlier.

  “I’m exhausted, and my body couldn’t move if I wanted it to. But I can’t seem to sleep,” she murmured, fully relaxed, praying time would stop so she and Bryson could stay in this happy little bubble.

  “Yeah, I know how you feel.” His arm tightened around her and he pulled her even closer as he continued long, lazy strokes down the curve of her back.

  “Tell me about your childhood. Was it good? Did you like having a brother and sister?” She was trying to be coy, but Bryson wasn’t fooled. She was afraid to meet her brother. He was a complete stranger, though related to her by blood.

  If Bryson could help ease her fears, he would.

  “I love my family. Out where I’m from, it wasn’t so unusual to grow up in a large family where everyone actually loved each other, but I’ve been around the world enough now to really appreciate what I’ve always had.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. It would break my heart if you didn’t appreciate them.”

  Her words made him ache for her. He’d seen people in her situation many times over, but he’d never harbored such deep feelings for any of them. And that train of thought took any ideas of sleep away. Was he falling in love with this woman? He knew he was falling, but was it love?

  He mulled that over in silence. Not only was he falling for her, and falling hard, but what really surprised him was that the realization aroused no fear. He’d heard people say that when a person found his or her other half, they just knew, and now he could understand what they were talking about.

  Later. He would think more on this later. Right now, Misty was seeking reassurance, and she was looking for answers. He could do his best to give both to her.

  “I was always close with my brother, who’s older, but our lives have drifted apart these days, since we rarely get to see each other. One thing we both have in common is our little sister. I told you she’s a dirt-bike racer. Well, it scares us both equally. Matter of fact, the last two times I’ve seen him is when we were at her races, making sure she was okay,” he said with a chuckle.

  “What would you do, jump in and catch her?”

  “I would trade places with her in a heartbeat if she were injured, and, yes, I would jump onto the course and catch her if I could. Luckily, she hasn’t had any terrible injuries. I know it sounds rotten, but I really hope she loses her passion for racing someday. I just…worry. I can’t have anything happen to her.”

  “Does she get mad at you for interfering?”

  “Yes and no. Only once did we have a big blowout fight about it. After that, I backed off…a little. And now she tolerates my nagging. She knows my concern is because I love her.”

  “If I were her, and you were trying to get me to stop, I would think it was because you didn’t trust me,” Misty interjected.

  “Really?” he asked, as if the thought had never crossed his mind. “Of course I trust her,” he said, as if any other option were ridiculous.

  “Have you ever told her that?”

  He was silent for a moment. “Well, I guess not.”

  Could it be that Bryson still had a lot to learn about family? Even Misty knew trust was important, and she’d grown up with no one. Maybe she’d learned that lesson the hard way: by not having anyone in her life whom she could trust.

  “I think I’m going to have to see her soon,” he said. Misty’s words really seemed to have mattered to him.

  That made all sorts of warm feelings flow through her.

  His fingers came around and he started to rub the sides of her breasts, sending sweet sensations through her sated body. His touch evoked such incredible responses that she didn’t think she would ever grow used to it. Maybe that was for the best. If she got too comfortable with it, it would hurt horrendously when it was gone.

  “Should I meet Damien?” Here was the real question she’d been wanting to ask.

  Bryson was happy she trusted him enough to value his opinion. “I think you should go when you’re ready.”

  “They want me to come right away. Joseph left me a ticket. Two, actually,” she said shyly.

  “Two?” he asked.

  “Um, yeah. I told him about my situation. But he already knew!”

  “I think Joseph Anderson knows more than most people,” Bryson said.

  “Well, right before he left, he said the tickets were open-ended. I could come as soon as tomorrow, or in a week if I wanted. I said that I didn’t know if I could.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He was real quiet for a minute, and then said that I had Anderson blood in me and the calling of my family would be too strong to ignore.”

  “Is he right?”

  “I don’t know. I liked him. It was odd. I’ve never trusted someone that quickly, but I just felt…comfortable during our conversation, as if I just knew he didn’t want to hurt me. I don’t normally feel that way.”

  “Yeah, I remember quite well that you don’t take kindly to strangers. You Tased me,” he said with a laugh.

  “Sorry about that, Bryson.”

  “I’m not. I got to lie on top of you.”

  “That was an unusual first meeting…”

  “So, Misty, do you want me to go with you?”

  “I couldn’t ask you to do that,” she said, but he heard hope in her voice.

  “I want to.” He wouldn’t push her, but he would be by her side, with or without an extra ticket.

  He could tell she was undecided, so when she changed the subject, he didn’t hesitate to follow her lead.

  “What made you decide to join the FBI?”

  He considered her question for a moment. “I was in the Mideast, fighting in the war, and I saw so many things that could have been done differently. I’m not saying anyone was necessarily right or wrong, but I saw things no one should see. When I came home, it was the same thing here. So many victims. I got recruited, and I never looked back. This is just where I fit, where I belong.”

  “Did you get wounded when you were fighting?” She hadn’t seen any scars, but then again, they also hadn’t had good lights
— only the flickering candles.

  “No. I was lucky. I lost some good friends, but I was never shot, or bombed. I have been shot once here in the States, though,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “Where?” she gasped. “How can you speak so casually about being shot?”

  “It wasn’t that big a deal.” He seemed uncomfortable all of a sudden.

  “Getting shot is always a big deal,” she cried.

  “I don’t know why I said that, ’cause I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  Misty was crushed. He didn’t trust her. He didn’t want to open up about something that was obviously traumatic for him. “I shouldn’t have pushed,” she mumbled, and she pulled back a little.

  “Hey! Don’t do that. It’s not that I don’t want to share. It’s just…well…embarrassing,” he finally admitted with a sigh.

  “How could getting shot possibly be embarrassing?”

  “I was shot in the ass,” he said with a groan.

  Misty was stunned. Was he making this up? Teasing her? Who would make something like that up, though? Should she just drop it? Suddenly she felt a giggle in her throat and she clamped her teeth down on her lip — hard — so her amusement wouldn’t reveal itself.

  “I can feel your chest shaking, you little wench,” he said, flipping her so fast onto her back that she lost her grip on her lip and her laughter spilled out.

  “I’m so sorry,” she gasped. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Getting shot is so not funny,” she said between fits of laughter. “But your tush seems to be accident-prone.” She hadn’t forgotten about the dog story.

  “Don’t worry; my colleague Axel, brother, sister, and everyone else I know has made a few butt jokes, or rather made me the butt of their jokes.”

  When she was just about to pass out from lack of oxygen, a new gleam crept into his eyes, and her laughter died away. Oh, that was a look she was beginning to know.

  One second she was giggling uncontrollably, and then the next, he was hard and inside her. “Oh,” she gasped. This was much better than laughter.

  “I have ways of making you cooperate,” he said, then lowered his mouth to hers and took her remaining breath away.