“Tell me.”
He hauled her to him and slanted his mouth over hers instead.
It was a desperate, hungry kiss and it did nothing to ease the raw, ragged ache inside him.
There were more than a few reasons why he hoped she wouldn’t remember.
His stupidity included.
But he couldn’t put her safety at risk, just to protect himself.
Slowly, he drew away, using his tongue to trace the soft lines of her mouth, the arched bow of her upper lip. She sighed softly against him when he broke the kiss. With his brow to hers, he twined their fingers together. “Come on. Let’s go to my place. We’ll talk there.”
* * *
“Well.” Moira slid her tongue across her teeth as Charles settled in the seat across from her. Dumbfounded wasn’t exactly the word she needed right then. Shocked … closer. “That was … unexpected.”
“He’s suffered a horrible loss,” Charles said softly. “It’s out of character for him, but he’s not a bad sort, Moira. You know that.”
“I’m not talking about him.” She pinned her ex-husband with a level look. “I’m talking about you. Since when were you anybody’s knight?”
Charles had been in the process of picking up his menu, but he stopped. Lowering it slowly to the table, he looked up. He held her gaze only for a moment, but the flash in his eyes made an uneasy feeling twist through her.
It was guilt, she decided. His next words confirmed that.
“It wasn’t that long ago that I almost lost you, Moira,” Charles said quietly. He leaned forward, his dark blue eyes intent on her face.
“Charles, I—”
He held up a long-fingered, elegant hand.
He’d always had beautiful hands.
Okay, everything about Charles was beautiful. Elegant, beautiful, and refined.
They’d made a stunning couple and she knew that. But there had been no heat between them, no true passion, the love they’d shared had been just a shadow of what she knew it should have been.
“Please, don’t.” He shook his head and shifted his gaze to stare outside. “I know we’re over. You’ve made that more than clear. But there’s a difference between us being over and you being … gone.”
His voice went rough and he looked back at her.
The expression on his face was enough to bring an ache to her throat.
He’d never looked at her like that.
Not once, in their entire marriage.
She didn’t know what to say.
“I can understand, to some extent, the agony he must be feeling,” Charles said, picking up his menu and opening it. “It doesn’t give him the right to bully others, though. And it would make me a poor man indeed if I’d just stood there while he manhandled Hannah, now wouldn’t it?”
Moira looked down at her menu.
Taking a deep breath, she reached up and tugged on the top of his menu, forcing him to lower it. “Thank you.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “For what?”
“For stepping up. You know she’s…” She shrugged. “Well, you know she’s pregnant and Brannon’s the father. She’s family now.”
He reached out and patted her hand. “She is. But I’d have done it regardless. Come now. Let’s order. I’m feeling a bit peckish. We’ve got business to discuss as well and I’d sooner get it done here rather than try to do it at the museum.” He winked. “We can’t have two minutes for business there without being interrupted, now can we?”
“No.” She laughed. “That’s the truth. I’m heading out at the end of the week, too. I can’t put this trip off any longer.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Brannon let her inside the condo, but he didn’t move any deeper.
She stood there next to him, just a foot away from the door. She felt crowded by him and it was a sensation that was both intense and intimidating. He was so big, it was like he sucked all the air out of the room and all the light, too. Even the color. Or maybe it was because he was so vibrant, everything just seemed paler, lesser in comparison.
He turned to face her, moving in.
Reflexively, Hannah took a step back, then another.
Brannon kept moving in and she found herself penned up against the door.
“You found my wallet,” he said, his voice gruff.
He reached up and trailed a finger down her cheek.
“You’d been out running and you showed up in just a tank top and a bra, those tight pants you wear. I could see the sweat on you and I wanted to lick it away and peel your clothes off. Just looking at you made me hard.”
She gulped in air. It did no good. She felt a little lightheaded and locked her legs to keep from sliding to the floor.
The finger he’d trailed down her cheek moved to her neck, the callouses rough, rasping along her skin.
“I was in a bitch of a mood and it always got worse when I saw you.”
“I’d noticed,” she said, clearing her throat. Then she scowled. “What changed?”
Brannon lowered his lids until all she could see was a sliver of green.
Then he reached out and placed his hand on her belly. “Isn’t it obvious?”
She sucked in a breath at the feel of his hand on her, fingers protectively spread over the swell of the baby lying within her. She covered his hand with hers, but even as she did it, she shook her head. “The baby’s not enough of a reason, Brannon. You acted like you couldn’t stand me for years. Then I wake up and who is it there with me at the hospital every day? You. I mean, yeah, I know we got together that week, but…”
“Stop.” Brannon moved closer, his hand moving from her belly to her hip. “My problems had nothing to do with not being able to stand you.”
Then he tugged her up against him and she felt his cock pressing flat against her as he slid his knee between her thighs.
The contact had her groaning.
“It had to do with wanting you and knowing I should keep my distance.” He rubbed his mouth against her neck. “Relationships aren’t my thing, Hannah. But I … you twisted me up, Hannah. After that week, I couldn’t fight it anymore.”
She wanted to ask him something else, but his teeth closed around her earlobe and tugged.
Thought melted away on a wash of heat.
“You had my wallet,” he said a moment later. “And you snapped at me. Asked me why I was such an asshole. I couldn’t stop myself. I put my hands on you and you put yours on me.”
“I…”
Brannon lifted his head to look down at her.
Hannah licked her lips and his eyes went hot. He pressed his mouth to hers, tracing the path her tongue had taken with his own.
“I want to put my hands on you now.” He said the words against her mouth. “Can I?”
“Oh, hell. Please.”
* * *
Hannah leaned against the door as he straightened away from her. Brannon reached for the buttons that ran down the front of her shirt. He wondered if she’d noticed that her breasts were getting fuller. He had. They weren’t quite straining the front of this blouse, but they would soon. He freed the top button, the one below it and then the next, taking his time with each and watching as the pink flush spread up from her chest to her neck and higher.
“You always watched me,” he said, surprised he could even talk.
Her gaze flew to his. There was a glassy glint to her eyes. “Yes.”
“It drove me crazy.”
A smile teased her lips. “You could have closed the curtains.”
“Then you wouldn’t watch.”
She laughed softly. The sound tripped across his skin like a caress and he thought he’d go mad if he didn’t get his cock inside her soon. But he didn’t want this to end.
So he drew it out, teasing them both as he freed her from her shirt and then draped it over the arm of the couch a couple of feet away. Her bra was pale pink, even paler than the blush still staining her cheeks and her breasts strained it to overflowing. “You’re getting
bigger,” he said, tracing his fingers along the lacy, scalloped edge.
“I know.” She bit her lip and glanced down. “Half my bras already don’t fit.”
Bracing his hands on the wall, he dipped his head and pressed his face to the valley created by her breasts. He breathed in the scent of her as he nuzzled her and relished the sound of her erratic breathing. A sound that was both a whimper and a sigh escaped her when he reached behind her and freed the catch on her bra.
He had to bite back a scowl when he saw the faint red mark left by the bra’s band. He kissed it softly before cupping her swollen, heavy breasts in his hands. “Fuck, Hannah…”
She cried out when he caught one plump nipple in his mouth.
The sound shot straight down to his cock.
He wondered if maybe he could come just by getting her off—and he thought he wouldn’t at all mind putting the idea to the test. She strained against him, shoving her breast against his mouth as she cupped the back of his head.
He suckled on her deeper, sliding one hand down her back and dragging her closer.
Hannah whimpered and brought her knee up against him.
She started to rock, wordless moans escaping her as she moved against him. He could feel how hot she already was and he wanted to rip her pants away, sink inside her. But she clutched at him and moaned and moved. He recognized what was coming just by the tension gathering in her body, although he didn’t entirely process it. Not right away.
She sobbed his name, twisted her hips.
He drew harder on her nipple.
Her nails tore into his biceps and she came.
Just like that.
Her hips jerked and rolled against him and even though his brain was struggling to take in what was going on, his body was already at work. His right hand cupping her breast, he used his left arm to bring her in closer, rolling his hips to drive his cock against the cleft between her thighs. She sobbed and shuddered, riding the orgasm that continued to ripple through her.
She was wet, so wet he could feel her through her jeans and his own.
A drop of pre-come leaked from the head of his cock and he thought maybe he’d just keep on moving.…
She whispered his name.
The soft, dazed sound wrapped a fist around his heart and squeezed.
Curling his arms around her, he tucked her head under his chin.
She sagged against him and he could feel the ragged rhythm of her heart, pounding in time with his own. His cock seemed to echo that mad beat, pulsing with a vicious ache, but he was content to ignore that—for now.
Or he might have been.
Hannah wasn’t.
She wiggled against him and worked a hand between them. She palmed him through his jeans and the rigid flesh jerked. Brannon clenched his jaw.
“I want you,” she said, the words spoken against his neck.
He wasn’t going to wait for an engraved invitation.
* * *
Hannah’s head was still spinning.
She’d said those words maybe twenty seconds ago and now she was naked.
Brannon boosted her hips up and she stared up at him in shock as he hooked her knees over his elbows.
He was still dressed.
“Here…?” she whispered.
“You wanted to know what happened.” He leaned in and pressed a bruising kiss to her mouth.
“You came here, ran that smart mouth of yours, and I lost it. Kind of like I’m doing now.” He crooked a grin at her and everything female in her clenched at the sight of it. “You just have to be around me and I lose it, Hannah.”
Then he slid against her.
She gasped and arched her hips.
He didn’t enter her yet, though.
“I fucked you right here the first time. And then I took you into my bedroom and I fucked you again.”
She whimpered.
He leaned in and bit her lower lip. She bucked against him and shuddered, then almost screamed because the head of his cock passed over her clit. “When I’m done here, I plan on taking you into my room and fucking you again there.”
He lifted his head and studied her.
Since he seemed to waiting for an answer, she gulped and nodded. “Oh … okay…?”
He shifted the angle of his hips and she groaned as the head of his cock breached her entrance. He watched her, eyes rapt on her face. She braced herself, expecting the hot, heavy drive.
But he slid just a few inches in.
She clutched at him when he withdrew. The head of his cock seemed wedged right at her entrance and it made her shiver. His eyes held her captive as he slowly surged back in. A little deeper, but not all the way.
He kept up that pattern and by the time he was seated completely within her, Hannah was mindless, sweat dripping from her body as she clutched at him. Begging him hoarsely, she strained against him, rising to meet each slow, tormenting thrust.
She clenched around him as he drove inside, squeezing him tight and hoping to keep him within her just a second longer, a heartbeat longer. He growled against her lips and she bit his tongue.
He tensed against her and she speared her fingers into his hair, taking control of the kiss since he wouldn’t let her have anything else.
His body shuddered.
She felt the shift happen in his body and took advantage, sucking on his tongue—when she allowed him entrance. When she bit him, he slammed one hand on the wall. Then, tearing her mouth from his, she sank her teeth into his lower lip.
Brannon swore.
And she laughed because she’d finally shoved him past the edge of his control.
He let go of her other knee and she twined her legs around his hips, rising to meet his thrusts and delighting in the feel of him inside, the width and length of his cock a brand.
He savaged her mouth, one hand gripping her ass, his fingers digging into the flesh as he drove into her, harder and deeper with every thrust.
He tore the climax out of her just as she demanded his.
It was … exhilarating.
* * *
Hannah woke up crying.
The dregs of a dream clung to her and she couldn’t remember anything but the ache and it was awful.
She swiped at the tears and smacked Brannon’s hands away when he tried to comfort her.
Finally, he gave up and just lay there, watching her.
She couldn’t look at him.
It hurt.
Even the silence hurt and she withdrew inside her own head.
There was something she was remembering—or almost remembering.
It was right there, like a song where she could remember the tune, but the lyrics or the title escaped her.
And it was something that hurt.
Unable to lie there any longer, she struggled free of the tangle they’d made of the sheets and sat on the side of the bed, staring at the window. Through the narrow slit in the curtains, she could see her own balcony and she sucked in a breath. Swiping at her tears, she shot him a look. “You started closing your curtains,” she said. The accusing note in her voice couldn’t be missed, not even by her. She didn’t know where it came from or why.
Just as she couldn’t explain the hot bubble of anger that started to well up inside her.
Brannon sat up slowly, eying her warily.
“Ah … yeah. You sort of snapped at me to do it.”
She sniffed, her nose congested from her crying jag. Getting to her feet, she looked around for her clothes but they were nowhere to be found. In desperation, she moved to his closet and opened it up. Her jaw fell open and she gaped at what lay behind the doors.
That wasn’t a closet.
It was a whole fricking room.
She’d been happy when she found out she actually had a walk-in closet, but her walk-in closet was just that. She could walk in, and if she lifted her arms, they’d brush up against the shirts and what pitiful few dresses she owned.
Brannon’s closet was …
>
She reached up and rubbed her eyes.
“I don’t know why I’m shocked,” she muttered.
He wasn’t a braggart about it, but everything about the man screamed money. His car was worth more than her entire apartment building, she’d bet. Shit, the McKay family had paid for the four new ambulances the county had received last year.
Shaking her head, she crossed the smoothly polished wooden floors—she actually had to take five steps to reach the shirts she could see hanging across the room. Reaching out, she snagged the closest one. She shrugged into the shirt as she turned around. Brannon stood in the doorway. He’d already pulled a pair of jeans up over his lean hips and he was still watching her with wary eyes. She ignored him for another moment, taking in the neat stacks of shoes she now faced and the suits that took up the far side of the wall.
“So is this all of your clothes or do you have more at the house?”
He jerked a shoulder in a shrug. “I’ve got stuff back at the house. Some stuff at Ferry, too, although I’m not there too often these days.”
“You’re a clothes horse, Brannon.” She buttoned up the shirt and tried not to think about the way his eyes kept straying to her fingers. She’d get all hot and bothered again if she did and she was trying to stay out of the zone.
Once she was dressed, she shouldered past him.
His fingers trailed down her back.
“Hannah…”
She shot another look at the curtains, bothered for reasons she couldn’t explain.
Maybe I don’t like being your morning entertainment—
Coming to a sudden halt, she stood there, shaking.
The floorboards shifted behind her and she spun around.
“My morning entertainment?”
* * *
The dread that had lived inside him for months threatened to consume him.
Feeling too big, too out of place inside his own skin, Brannon shifted on his feet.
She was remembering. More and more.
Tell her what happened.
Tell her you’re sorry.
Do it now.
The voice of reason shrieked at him from deep inside.
He opened his mouth to do just that.
She took a step toward him and he found himself wanting to take a step back. That just made him feel even more foolish and he stood his ground. She lifted a hand and jabbed him the chest with her finger. “My morning entertainment? You’re the one who never bothers to close his damn curtains!”
The Trouble with Temptation Page 16