Brand (The Donovan Dynasty)

by Sierra Cartwright

  He brought her back to him. It jolted him how right it felt to have her in his arms, so close that he could inhale her scent, something light, fresh—a direct contrast to the emotions churning in him. “You are good.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “But a two-step isn’t that difficult.”

  Cade looked down at her, scowling.

  “And what I mean is, you lead well. Is your ego soothed now?”

  “It would have been if you had stopped talking after your first sentence.”

  Her smile was quick and a bit sassy. “I’ve heard that my whole life.”

  “Have you?” It had been years since he’d enjoyed this kind of easy exchange with a woman. He appreciated it more than he expected.

  “I would never have suspected you were such a good dancer,” she told him, jolting him from his thoughts.

  “More preconceived notions?”

  “Maybe I should have worn boots. I keep stepping in it, don’t I?”

  “I spent some time on the rodeo circuit. I learned very young that girls like to dance. So my aunt taught me how. Wait until you see me line dance.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

  “I’ll show you at the party.”

  “Is that one of the ways you’re hoping to entice me to take the job?”

  “I don’t know. Would it work?”

  He was aware of her gaze on his chest, maybe directed at the ends of his bulldogger tie. If he’d had any idea he would have a beautiful woman in his arms, he’d have stayed dressed up.

  “Ms. McBride? I was asking if my line dance would entice you to take the job.”

  “It certainly doesn’t hurt,” she admitted in that husky voice of hers.

  The song neared the end and he brought her a little closer.

  Her breath caught as she swayed, almost missing a step.

  She looked up and met his gaze. The gold flecks in her eyes appeared brighter. The longer he held her, the longer their gazes held, the more her hesitation and reserve seemed to melt.

  For a moment, he thought of kissing her. He trailed his thumb across her upper lip, and her breath caught.

  The darkness in him was attracted to the lightness in her. It was seductive. Relentless. Consuming.

  Fuck it.

  He moved them to a quiet corner.

  “I want to kiss you, Sofia.”

  “I…” Her eyes were wide, the gold flecks pronounced.

  “Tell me no,” he encouraged her.

  “Kiss me,” she said instead, stunning him.

  She raised onto her tiptoes and leaned toward him. More than ever, he wanted to work his fingers into the luxurious length of her hair. It was long, thick and enticing, perfect for a sex scene. When they had more time, he would delight in pulling out the assortment of pins and removing the band at the bottom. For now, he settled for wrapping his fist around it, pretending, for a moment, he wasn’t a caveman.

  He skimmed a finger across her lower lip before he kissed her. Then he demanded more.

  She moaned. Rather than pulling away, she moaned.

  God damn fucking wonderful response.

  Once he touched his lips to hers and she surrendered, he was filled with a need that he’d never experienced.

  She tasted of the freshness of citrus, and more, promise and hope, things that had been absent in his life for so long that he barely remembered them.

  He breathed in her innocence, basked in it. It wasn’t enough. He wanted more. Wanted her.

  As she responded by linking her arms around his neck, he kissed her harder, with more passion, all but devouring her. She met him boldly, accepting everything he offered. It was as if her innocence were wrapped in an inviting package of curiosity.

  He wanted to be the one to show her. But that would be a mistake. Even though he’d been the one to encourage this, he needed to keep the enchanting Sofia in the off-limits category.

  Slowly, reluctantly, he ended the kiss, but they remained wrapped together. Surprising him, she didn’t pull away. Surprising him even more, he didn’t encourage it, even after the music trailed off.

  In the background, he heard the DJ announce that Lara was going to toss her bouquet and that all the single ladies were requested to gather around.

  “I should go.” Her voice had a huskiness that spoke of the South and seductive summer nights.

  “Are you hoping to catch the flowers?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “I just want to be sure the photographer gets the right pictures.” She lowered her hands and took a step back.

  “Thank you for the dance.”

  “You were a perfect gentleman, as promised,” she said.

  “I was tonight,” he told her. “In the future, I might not be.” In fact, he couldn’t help but picture her attached to a beam in his barn, mouth gagged, her hair gloriously loose around her shoulders as she waited for his commands.

  The image—bright, vivid—startled him. It knocked him off balance, and it wasn’t as unwelcome as it should have been. “In fact, you’d be wise to keep your distance from me.”

  “Would I?” She pressed her fingers to her lips.

  Trying to remember the kiss? Or maybe soothe the ache from the intensity?

  “Everything you’ve heard about me…” His voice was gruff, the confession tearing at his vocal cords. He wasn’t a good man. “It’s true. All of it, and more.”

  “Is it?”

  “I’d be remiss if I didn’t encourage you to protect yourself.”

  “In that case, Mr. Donovan, please be assured that I consider myself warned.”

  “Sofia—”

  “I’m looking forward to Tuesday,” she said.

  She was either very, very brave or she had a reckless disregard for her safety, and that meant trouble for him.

  Sofia turned, picked up her clipboard then walked toward the clubhouse.

  Her hips swayed with each step, and he saw her calves flex.

  Near the door, she glanced back and met his gaze. Fuck him three ways from Sunday. He wanted her. Hard. Fast. Beneath him. Kneeling for him. And he wanted it now, not several days from now.

  Then she turned away and went back inside.

  It took every bit of his hard-won control not to go after her.

  Chapter Three

  It’d been a hell of a night—so much more than she’d expected.

  Sofia kicked off her shoes in her apartment’s entryway and dropped her oversized tote bag on the floor next to them. With a sigh, she shrugged out of her blazer and tossed it onto the coat rack.

  Without turning on a single light, she walked through to her bedroom, unfastening the buttons on her blouse as she went.

  She’d anticipated it would be an easy event and that she’d be home well before midnight. But she hadn’t counted on Julien Bonds showing up, or spending considerable time with the intriguing Cade Donovan.

  The dance with him had left her mentally unbalanced and sexually needy.

  While she wasn’t a virgin, she had never had this kind of reaction to a man. For her, sex had been ho-hum, something she could take or leave. Mostly she did it because a man expected it after they’d dated for a while. She’d never initiated it, and thoughts of it certainly never occupied her mind the way it seemed to for her friends. And she’d never experienced anything like Lara had talked about.

  That was, until tonight.

  The way Cade had looked at her, as if he wanted to devour her, had made her feel desired. His touch had been masterful, his attitude that of an implacable alpha, and his kiss…

  She put her hand on the wall to steady herself.

  As if he were there, she recalled the way he’d touched his lips to hers. At first, he’d been gentle, then insistent and finally, demanding. It had been as complex as the man himself, and it—he—had ignited a dizzying number of emotions in her.

  There’d been nothing hesitant about him, and she’d found his confidence appealing. He’d left her wanting more
.

  In the bathroom, Sofia tugged the band from the bottom of her hair then used her fingers to work the braid’s strands free.

  Most times, she took a bath to relax after a long night, but tonight she opted for a shower. Without much conscious thought, she removed her blouse and dropped it on the floor. Her bra followed. Then she shimmied out of her snug-fitting skirt and rolled down her stockings. Irrationally, wishing Cade were there to finish undressing her, she wriggled out of her sensible panties.

  She stepped beneath the lukewarm spray then took down the handheld showerhead.

  With her eyes closed, she allowed her mind the freedom she’d denied it all night.

  She recalled the initial nervousness when Cade had taken her in his arms. He was a big man. But his size offered strength, rather than intimidation.

  As they’d moved together, she’d had a stray, wild compulsion to stroke her fingers across his face, outline the trimmed, well-kept goatee. Sometime after the wedding pictures had been taken, he’d unknotted his tie but left the ends dangling. He’d also opened the top button of his shirt. His casual elegance had intrigued her.

  His skin was tanned, no doubt from time spent outdoors. And for a scandalous moment, she’d wanted to know what his chest looked like.

  More than anything, though, the pain in his eyes continued to haunt her.

  What they’d shared had ignited a dormant flame in her. None of it had been enough.

  And yet…

  He was dangerous. He’d advised her to stay away from him, and intuition told her she’d be smart to heed him.

  But to her heated body, the warning meant little.

  She all but felt the metal of his belt buckle against her bare skin as she moved the nozzle up her body, across her abdomen, over her breasts.

  Sofia parted her legs and directed the spray toward her pussy.

  The sensation was nice, sweet, but it didn’t match the demand that swarmed through her. She opened her eyes to change the setting to pulse.

  As the water jetted against her, she took turns squeezing her nipples, imagining it was Cade’s grip twisting and pulling on them.

  She closed her eyes, allowing the fantasy to morph.

  She saw him securing her wrists in one of his big hands before he tied her face down on a bed. Even though she tried to keep still, she moved her ass in anticipation. Before she was ready, he brought down his belt, searing her.

  Sofia cried out. An orgasm gathered force, stunning her.

  She didn’t masturbate often, and she’d never gotten aroused this quickly.

  Then she realized she’d been turned on since Cade had introduced himself. Her climax was the culmination of all the sensations he’d evoked in her.

  Still picturing Cade touching her, making her respond, she allowed the spray to hit her clit, and she gasped. Again, frustrating her, it wasn’t enough.

  After tugging each of her nipples a final time, she used her free hand to part her labia and expose her clit.

  Worrying her lower lip, she moved the showerhead closer to her pelvis. This time, the combination of the heat and pressure was enough. She jerked as it pounded her, and she was filled with thoughts of Cade doing this to her, this… Individual feelings coalesced, merging, and she couldn’t sort one from another. All she could think of was Cade. Her clit ached. This… She wanted him…his mouth, his tongue, his cock…

  She screamed.

  Then she put a hand out to steady herself as she came.

  It wasn’t until much, much later—when the water was chilled—that she could rouse herself to turn off the faucet.

  With only a towel wrapped around her, she fell on top of her bed.

  Sofia always slept well.

  Tonight, though, she dreamed of eyes so dark they seemed to devour, of being held down and fucked hard. Before she could climax, everything splintered into a nonsensical kaleidoscope of careening, unfulfilled desire, dropping, plummeting, gnawing on the edges of her consciousness.

  * * * *

  When she woke up, she felt a bit blurry, as if she’d never been to sleep.

  Washing her face in cold water, getting dressed, even a cup of hot tea didn’t help her throw off the lingering effects of the night before.

  Thank goodness she had a full day today, getting ready for her usual Sunday morning brunch with her sister, going into the office, reviewing the week’s financials from the three Encore branches.

  After dressing in shorts and a tank top, she whipped up a quiche and popped it in the oven. While she waited, she opened a bottle of sparkling wine, grabbed a bottle of orange juice, pulled out a carton of raspberries then made herself a mimosa. Maybe the bubbly would help her banish thoughts of Cade Donovan. Or, if not, at least move them to the side so that he occupied fewer of her brain cells.

  Before she was quite ready for company, her sister Zoe knocked on the door, called out a greeting then used her key to let herself in without waiting for a response.

  Sofia had rarely been happier to see anyone. Over the years, having Sunday brunch together had become a ritual. They’d talk about work, catch up on all the personal things they didn’t get to discuss during the week.

  By nature, Sofia was a family person, so her travel schedule was a challenge. She would love to spend more time in Corpus Christi, especially since one of their younger half-sisters now had six-month-old twins. This connection with Zoe helped sustain Sofia.

  “So, what’s he like?” Zoe demanded.

  “What? Who?”

  “You know who.” Zoe plopped down her purse then slammed the door behind her. There was nothing subtle about her younger sis. “Avery said Cade Donovan was heading right for you when you shooed her ass out the door.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Diversionary tactics will not work. I’m on to you.”

  “How do you know Cade?” she countered.

  “I don’t. Not really. I saw him in town a couple of years ago.” Zoe gave her a quick hug before sliding onto one of the stools across the granite bar from Sofia. “He’s one of those people you know on sight, even if you’ve never met them. Well, I suppose all the Donovans are. They’re in the society pages often enough. Or at least they used to be, a few years ago.”

  Again without waiting for an invitation, she splashed a dollop of orange juice into a flute then filled the rest with the sparkling wine. If Sofia had been pouring, she would have used considerably more juice than Zoe.

  “Come on. Tell me all.” Zoe picked up a plump raspberry and plopped it into her glass. “Avery said he looked edible.”

  Edible was a fitting word. Cade had been unlike any other man at the reception. It went far beyond his good looks. When he entered a room, he dominated it.

  But she wasn’t going to tell her sister about her haunted fantasies and dreams.

  “When I saw him, he reminded me a bit of Mr. Rochester.”

  “Mr. Rochester?” Sofia repeated.

  “You know, from Jane Eyre?”

  That Mr. Rochester.

  “It wasn’t long after his father’s death. He didn’t say much, and he struck me as being a little lost. In his own world.”

  While Sofia was pragmatic, Zoe could be a bit of a romantic. Most of the time that worked well for their business partnership.

  Sofia checked to be sure the oven timer was set then picked up her drink. “I’m meeting with him Tuesday to talk about the ranch’s centennial celebration.”

  “Get out.” Zoe put down her flute with a tiny thud. “Seriously?”

  “Erin Donovan, that’s his half-sister, was talking to Lara about the event. Lara mentioned that Encore has a Corpus Christi office. So in answer to your question… What’s he like? A shrewd businessman.” Sofia looked across at her sister. “He may not know anything about parties, but he asked for terms and a discount.”

  “He’s not a corporation. Wait…” Zoe stopped and frowned. “Come to think of it, he probably is. How many people are we talking about?”
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  “According to Erin, about a thousand.”

  “At the ranch? Or are they going to rent someplace? Maybe the rodeo grounds?”

  “They’re planning to hold it at the Running Wind.”

  “That could be a logistical nightmare,” Zoe said. “Figuring out parking will keep you up nights.”

  “I’m thinking of running shuttle buses from Waltham.”

  Zoe nodded. “Good thinking.”

  “There may be other options. I’ll know more when I see the ranch.”

  “Anyway, back to Cade.”

  Sofia had been hoping Zoe had moved on. She should have known better.

  “Where are you meeting him?”

  She pretended that her heart wasn’t suddenly thudding out of her chest. “At his place.”

  “Just the two of you?”

  “And the dozens of people who work for him.” At least she assumed so. The idea of being alone with him was one notch under terrifying.

  “You’re being ridiculously silent. I’m thinking you liked him.”

  Too damn much.

  She was aware of Zoe regarding her, waiting. “He is intense,” she said. “Knows what he wants and is determined to have it. No seems to mean maybe. We danced.”

  “Seriously? What, a waltz?”

  Sofia scowled.

  “Okay, okay. Go on.” Zoe had a small sip from the flute but somehow managed not to break eye contact. “He asked you to dance and you said…?”

  “I gave him a list of reasons I shouldn’t. Including the fact I’m not the type who associates with the Donovans, or, rather, they’re not the type who associates with us.”

  Zoe groaned. “Please tell me you didn’t mention that Mom used to be a server for Miss Libby’s events.”

  “Shockingly, I was able to keep the confession from pouring out,” Sofia said wryly.

  “Whew. So. Keep going.”

  “He responded that he was a bastard.”

  “To which you replied…”

  “I’d heard that but I’d never had the impression it had anything to do with his parentage.”

  Zoe lifted her glass to clink against Sofia’s.

  “Is he a good dancer?”

  “He is.”

  “And?”