by Diana Seere
Yes. God yes.
Have you not had enough?
Whimpering, she arched her back, pushed her ass higher. “Please,” she said aloud. “Please, Gavin. Please.”
The supplication destroyed him. Digging his fingers into her hips, he thrust into her to the hilt, throwing his head back and shouting into the night. He heard the sound and wondered at it, for he never made a sound during lovemaking that so obviously exposed his lack of control. He slid back, the erotic sounds of wet flesh complementing his voice so appropriately that he called out again when he slid into her a second time. And then followed it with a groan. He was vocalizing like an animal. He was forgetting who he was.
No. He was remembering.
His muscles gained the extra strength that came with a shift, and although he was in no danger of turning into his other form, he feared hurting her. He could hold her so much better now, effortlessly lifting her hips for him, relieving her from the weight of his cock driving in and out of her. When his pelvis slapped against her welcoming flesh, all the doubt, confusion, and anger melted away, leaving only this rosy, misty desire, the heat in his veins, and a deepening compulsion to hold her forever.
Oh, Gavin, she moaned in his mind. Fuck me.
The tenderness exploded into lust, a familiar blaze, and he lifted her higher and pounded harder, harder, harder, forgetting to be gentle, forgetting to be a gentleman. He took every inch of her and pushed for more, and in seconds he was coming inside her, filling her with his seed, wanting everything that meant, joining with her, mating with the One.
His One.
She came again with him with a shout of her own, then a cry—high-pitched and wild. They rode the wave together for a long moment, panting into the starry night, and finally he shuddered inside her, little spasms like steps returning them to earth.
It was too early to worry about her hips and the bruises he feared he’d left there, although he would tonight when he tossed and turned alone in his vast, cold bed.
But would he be alone? He withdrew, biting his lip with new desire as he saw the wetness drip in a trail on her downy thigh, stroking it, sliding it over her skin, feeling an impossible jerk in his cock at the thought of taking her again.
He moved his hand up her spine and helped her straighten up against his chest. Her breasts felt so lovely under his palms, her hair smelled so sweet.
“Next time, we find a bed,” she said.
His heart began pounding with joy. Next time. “We’re going to explore this connection between us,” he said.
“I can’t risk my job. I really can’t.”
He turned her around in his arms. “Don’t worry about getting fired.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Listen to me—” he began.
She put her fingers over his lips. “Let me finish, sweetheart.” She smiled. “I can’t risk giving up on us either. Whatever this is.”
He managed to catch the remainder of his breath. Tightening their embrace, he opened his mouth and licked her fingers. Her giggle was just what he wanted to hear. A woman didn’t giggle when she was about to wallow in regret and recrimination.
“We need time to be together like normal people,” he said, knowing he wasn’t normal but not caring. “My ranch is over two thousand miles from the Platinum Club. The staff I’ve chosen to join you are the most discreet in the business and ones you’ve already befriended and unlikely to betray you, should they suspect what we’re doing.”
“And what will we be doing?” She wiggled her hips against his.
“Lots of work.” He exhaled a mock sigh. “Lots and lots of work. I’m a very busy man, you know.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“In fact, right now I’m doing your washing. When you admire your wardrobe tonight, it will be freshly laundered and pressed, smelling of ocean breezes and wildflowers.”
She squeezed his waist. “You’re amazing.”
Shoving aside the guilt for hiding the depth of his most amazing qualities, he helped her get dressed and led her to the stairs and out to the back door where a second car (Manny was still occupied) waited for them.
Now his courting could begin in earnest.
By the time they were in the limo and driving away from the building, Gavin had a plan. A simple plan.
Lilah’s stomach growled.
“Are you still hungry?” he asked, his nose assaulted by the scent of their lovemaking. Other appetites in him were growling too.
She chuckled, dipping her eyes in a shy, adorable way. “Dinner was great, but I was nervous and worried and I guess I—” Her stomach spoke for her again.
“I can have the driver take us back.”
“No, it’s OK,” Lilah said. Her stomach spoke again.
He squeezed her hand. “This is ridiculous. Let’s go somewhere a little more private and with a meal we can actually eat from start to finish.” Gavin reached for the buzzer to tell the driver where to go when Lilah stopped him.
“A fancy place with white tablecloths and lemons with names I’ve never heard of? Looking like this?” She waved her hands at her frayed jeans, her mussed hair. He inhaled deeply.
Oh. She had a point.
“My place?” he asked with a grin he tried to make not too lecherous.
“You’ll dine on me, Gavin, if I go there.” Her eyes widened with curiosity, though.
“Settled then. With traffic we’re only thirty minutes away. I can have my personal chef make something light and it will be waiting for us when we arrive.”
She frowned, uncertain.
He reached for her cheek and stroked it. “I want you to see my apartment. I want you to learn more about me.” But not everything. Not just yet, he thought.
Lilah relaxed. She smoothed her jeans over those soft thighs that he had to admit were the best appetizer a man could taste.
“All right,” she said with an exhale, squeezing his hand back. “I’d love to see your place.”
A few words to the driver and one quick phone call to the chef, and it was settled.
His stomach tightened, then growled, making her laugh. It wasn’t from hunger, though.
This was a case of nerves.
Gavin had never brought a woman to his home.
Ever.
“You call this an apartment?” Lilah marveled as she entered his penthouse. Private elevator that opened into his living room? She was lucky to have a working peephole on her door.
“What else would you call it?”
“An airport terminal?” she gasped. If this was smaller than 4,000 square feet, she’d eat her phone. Her stomach squawked again and pretty soon she would eat her phone, from sheer starvation.
As she inhaled, the scent of tarragon and something exotic filled her senses, making her mouth water.
Gavin strode across the wide expanse of windowed space and looked under two silver lids that covered dishes, both propped under a stove hood. “Ah. Dinner. Cecily did well.” He brought the covered plates to an all-black wooden table and chairs—with seating for ten—and set them down at place settings across from each other. One more quick trip and he had glasses of water and silverware.
She poked under the hood and gasped. “Lobster tail and steak!” A small lobster tail and a medallion of filet mignon sat on the plate next to julienned squash and carrots.
“I thought we would take the best of what we had at dinner,” he said, pulling out her chair, “and devour it here.”
She gave him the side eye. “There are two ways to interpret that statement.”
He laughed, the sound unbidden and full, making her heart soar. She liked the relaxed, happy Gavin. “And I welcome the chance to explore both.” He pushed her chair in as she sat. “But first, you need to eat.”
Men didn’t do this for her. Take care of her. She was so focused on taking care of everyone else that it felt odd. Courtly.
Loving.
She shivered at the word and shoved a piece of lobste
r in the drawn butter, then in her mouth. A moan like a sound she’d made on the rooftop an hour ago came out of her.
“That good?” he asked, halfway through his rare steak already. His eyes glimmered with mirth.
“Mmm hmmm,” was all she could say as she cut another chunk out of the red tail and dipped it generously in the butter.
The second bite was even better.
Would that be true for a second round tonight with Gavin?
Yes, oh yes, his voice answered in her head, making her drop her fork against the plate, butter spattering all over her arm.
“Oh, dear,” he said, reaching for her wrist. “Let me clean that up for you.” His eyes stayed on hers as his mouth lowered to her arm, tongue laving generously against her skin, licking the butter away.
This moan was different, her body flooded with a rush of heat and wetness that made her feel feral. Primal.
“Gavin, I—” She stopped her own protest, realizing it was silly. She wanted him again. He wanted her more, if that was possible.
He set her arm down so delicately, so tenderly. “Finish eating, Lilah,” he urged, and as she finished the lobster, she realized his food was mostly gone. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Her mouth was full. All she could manage was a nod. He walked out of the room down a hallway. The sound of running water began.
Wolfing down the rest of her food, she mentally praised fancy chefs and their small portions. She was finishing her water when Gavin reappeared, wearing only a white robe.
She paused in mid-swallow.
“This one is yours,” he said, holding out an impossibly soft matching robe. His eyes made it clear he expected her to disrobe now. In front of him.
If there were a pole in the room, she’d do a striptease and a pole dance for him. She’d do anything for him.
Anything.
Her own eyes took in the long, lean, powerful legs that showed under the knee-length robe. The thick tuft of chest hair at the robe’s V. The casual way he wore it, nude beneath, as if she were accepted into his world. Her fingers fumbled as she pulled her shirt off, catching his eyes as she dispensed with the bra, then shimmied out of her pants and panties.
Naked and desperately fighting her own self-consciousness, she pulled her shoulders back and met his eyes, smiling.
“Oh, Lilah,” he murmured, dropping her robe to the ground. He opened his sash and did the same with his, muscled body hot against hers in three strides. He looped one arm under hers, and then she was off her feet, his other arm under her knees, her cheek pressed into his hot chest.
Thud thud. Thud thud. His heartbeat sped up as he carried her, effortlessly, into a bathroom bigger than her entire apartment.
A tub larger than most kiddie pools awaited them, covered in bubbles and rose petals, hot tub jets churning the water.
“You know I’m a sure thing, right?” she murmured into his nipple, biting it playfully. Being in his arms felt like being protected by a muscle-bound firefighter or being rescued by a Navy SEAL. He was pure power in the flesh, unyieldingly male and unendingly attracted to her.
She licked his well-defined pecs, inhaling his spicy, intoxicating scent, then bit him again. Harder.
His turn to groan.
“I’ll never take anything about you for granted, Lilah,” he said as he slipped her into the steamy, yet not-too-hot water, her body enveloped by pure paradise in seconds.
Once he climbed in and pulled her to him, her back to his chest, she went from paradise to heaven.
His erection pushed against her lower back, his hips moving just slightly up and down in a rhythm that drove her crazy. He reached for a bar of soap, the scent of verbena and sandalwood tickling her nose. Soaping up, his hands reached for her breasts, the smooth, slick feel of his palms against her collarbone, her floating breasts, her belly, and then her pussy like being licked all over by nine tongues at once.
“We may have had sex tonight on the rooftop and weeks ago in the wine cellar, Lilah, but tonight we make love. You’re the first woman I’ve ever had in my apartment,” he murmured against her earlobe, his tongue flicking up to tease it.
She jolted, and not just because an expert thumb began drawing lazy circles on her clit underwater. “I am?”
“You are,” he said in a drawn-out growl, two long fingers sliding inside her. The thumb and fingers made her buck.
He kissed her ear, drawing the lobe between his thick, strong lips, biting down on the soft flesh as he sucked, thumb quickening and fingers hooking up, as if he knew exactly where her sweet spot was, as if he—
Her body tensed, then convulsed, the orgasm taking her completely by surprise, her movements so uninhibited, the feeling so pleasurable that she didn’t care about splashing water out of the tub, didn’t censor her cries of ecstasy, didn’t worry about Gavin’s needs. She took and she took and he gave and he gave until she was panting, facing him now, her forehead against his wet chest, his fingers halting with respect for the enormity of what he’d just elicited from her—yet still inside her. He’d followed her along the climb, the crest, the tipping over into the chaos of climax.
“You,” was all she could say. His chest bounced as he laughed soundlessly, his free hand entangled in her wet hair. With his foot, he popped up the tub drain, and the gurgle of disappearing water finally made her pull back and look him in the eye.
“What’s that for—” But his soft, sweet kiss was the only answer she would get. Covered in bubble foam and rose petals, surrounded by candlelight she only now noticed, she was infused with a flushed heat. Lilah nudged her hips just so as the water disappeared and she lowered herself onto his thick, demanding cock, her body crying out for more.
More.
More, he agreed without moving his lips.
Gavin’s hands grasped her hips with such power she flinched for a moment. The pain of his fingers digging in was balanced by the skillful movement of his thighs and hips, intensity pouring from his barely restrained need. Soon Lilah found herself completely transported to a place where flesh was words. Where sound was sex. Where touch was sound.
None of it made sense except for the forbidden reality that she was completely his.
In every way possible.
“Lilah,” he cried out as his climax hit hard, pouring into her like hot lava, her fingernails digging deep grooves into his back, her heart slamming so hard against her breast she feared it would fall out. “You are the only one, Lilah!” Gavin gasped as he thrust into her, up and hard, as if making an eternal mark inside her that no one else could see.
But that branded her his—and only his.
She felt it as surely as if it were burned into her skin.
Chapter 12
Montana
A tray of drinks in her hand, Lilah paused at a tall window between the bar and the guests in the great hall to admire the view. The ranch perched on the edge of a lake, surrounded by forest, jagged mountain peaks, and the famously big sky. The dome of blue stretched higher and wider than she’d ever seen.
She sighed, feeling a rush of giddiness. How had she ended up here in this beautiful, heavenly place? With a fun job that paid incredibly well, in the company of a man whose every word and touch made her happy? Who made love to her every free moment and treated her like a goddess?
It was almost too much.
Not quite, but almost.
“Better get back to work,” a low voice said behind her. “Don’t want to displease the management.”
She spun around and saw Derry, who promptly relieved her of two of the full champagne flutes on her tray. Gavin’s brother continued to flirt with her but never crossed the line. Smiling, she moved the tray out of his reach before he could gulp his two down—they were like thimbles in those giant mitts of his—and steal two more.
“Yes, sir,” she said, bowing her head in mock obeisance. Surely he knew what she and Gavin had been up to. Before he could say anything else,
and the wicked twinkle in his eye suggested he was about to, she hurried across the vaulted great room that looked like a log cabin on steroids. Really expensive, luxurious steroids.
Polished wood gleamed on the walls, floors, and ceiling. Two-story windows peaked in the center of the room, framing the lake and mountain view. Most of the guests were gathered there, as if trying to compete with the landscape for attention. Most were men, a few were women, but they all smelled like money, even in casual clothes.
She saw Mason Webb too late to avoid him. He stepped directly in front of her, patting her down with his eyes before helping himself to the champagne. “What a pleasure to see you again.” He licked the rim of the glass before tipping it back to swallow.
Skin crawling, Lilah flashed him a quick, professional smile, avoiding eye contact, scanning the crowd. Dozens of other guests were rightfully thirsty as well, a reasonable excuse to get the hell away from him as soon as possible.
“I didn’t realize the girls from the Plat could be rented out,” he continued, eyeing her over the rim of his glass. His tongue made another appearance. “How much do you charge?”
If she clenched her teeth any harder, she would crack a tooth. What could she say that didn’t sound like an invitation? “I’m here as a representative of the Platinum Club, as are the other servers.” She managed to hold her smile before turning away on her newest pair of heels that matched the emerald green of the forest outside.
What a slimeball. Gavin had apologized that Webb was loathsome but useful, and she had assured him she understood. Didn’t mean she was going to be any nicer to him than she had to. Striding around a cluster of multi-thousand-dollar suits, she avoided the toad, dispensed the rest of her drinks, and strode back to Carl for more.
He had an unusual scowl on his face as he poured drinks behind the bar, a gleaming plank of cedar atop a handcrafted wall of stone. Like the rest of the buildings on the ranch, it captured the rough beauty of the outdoors around them. The friendly bartender, however, wasn’t enjoying any of it. He’d warned her during the plane ride that he was a city boy, hated wide-open spaces and fresh air, and would be counting the minutes before they returned to Boston.