Dion joined in. “Yeah, I’m sure he’s got her covered tonight.”
“Very funny, both of you. We’ll stay in tonight. I don’t want them going out and chancing anything.”
What Sean realized he wanted for Tate and Briana was much more than he’d ever dreamed of with another woman. He wondered what it was about this one that had clicked into place so soon and so decisively.
After hanging up with his brother and his cousin, Sean stood in his bedroom staring out the window at the Miami scenery. He thought about his parents, about their long, love-filled marriage; about his brother and his new wife, and the other Donovan men of his family. None of them had planned to fall in love and settle down, at least not at the exact moment it happened. He shouldn’t feel concerned about this new development in his life. And actually, he didn’t. But he knew Tate was.
Chapter 11
“You make it look so easy,” Sean said as he watched Tate put a sleeping Briana into the Pack and Play crib they’d set up in the second-floor guest room.
Usually his guests used the first-floor bedroom, but he’d wanted them closer to him. Tate had unpacked earlier while Briana napped after her lunch. The room looked totally different than it had just that morning, he noted. There were baby things all over. And now he watched the woman who’d enchanted him through another dinner that night, performing what looked like her normal nightly ritual with her daughter.
And Sean realized he was sinking fast.
She shrugged, her long hair falling freely around her shoulders. “I’m used to it now,” was her reply.
“She usually sleeps all night?”
Tate nodded. “Except for last night.”
“We’re going to find out what’s going on, Tate. I don’t want you to worry about that.”
When she looked up at him Sean’s breath caught as the dimly lit room made her skin look almost golden and her eyes look like simmering pools. “How can I not worry? Somebody’s after me and my baby.”
He moved closer until he was standing directly in front of her. Lifting his hands, he grasped her shoulders and pulled her slowly until her body brushed against his. “You’re safe now. I’m not going to let anything happen to either one of you.”
She began shaking her head. “But you’re my boss. You don’t know us at all. I don’t understand why you’d go through all this trouble for us.”
“Because of this,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “Because of what I feel when I’m with you. And what I know you feel, too.”
She was shaking her head again.
“You’re going to develop a neck condition if you keep that up,” he said.
She stopped instantly, and Sean used a finger to lift her chin. “Does it seem quick? Yes. Would I have believed I’d be so interested in a woman I’d just officially met days ago? Probably not.” He shrugged. “But I’ve never been one to second-guess what I feel. I go with my gut. Always.”
“And let me guess,” she said with a smirk, “you’re never wrong.”
“I wouldn’t say never. But my track record’s looking pretty good so far,” he said honestly.
She smiled, and it was as if someone had flipped a switch inside his body. The pleasant warmth he’d felt just holding her escalated tremendously.
“I’m not used to this,” she said, her voice trembling.
“Believe me, neither am I.”
Holding her felt too right—it felt perfect, to be exact—but a part of Sean wanted more. The finger that was on her chin traced a line along her jaw and then touched her bottom lip lightly.
“We can’t ignore this,” he said softly, watching as her eyes grew darker with his touch.
“No. I don’t think we can,” she admitted on a deep sigh. “I wanted to. I really did. But I’ve always been a realist.”
“It shows in your writing.” He couldn’t help but say that. “It’s one of the first things that attracted me to you. There’s a brutal honesty in your words. You have no idea what a turn-on an honest woman is.”
She laughed. “Really? I don’t think a lot of women know that.”
“Obviously not.”
He couldn’t wait another minute. He replaced his finger with his lips, touching hers in a whisper-soft connection. To his continued delight, she didn’t flinch or attempt to move away. Just like during their kiss last night, she only melted into his embrace, parting her lips at his insistence. Kissing Tate produced this eerie fog that engulfed both of them as they sank deeper, melding their bodies closer together.
Her arms circled his back, their bodies pressing together tightly. She tilted her head, coming up on her tiptoes to offer him even more. His palms itched to touch her, to feel the heat of her skin against his own. With one hand he grasped her bottom, and the other reached beneath the rim of her T-shirt until he was touching her bare back. Her hand went to the back of his head, pulling him closer, pressing for a deeper kiss.
She was breathless when Sean finally pulled away. He didn’t hesitate to lift her into his arms, dropping soft kisses on her forehead, her nose, her cheeks as he carried her into his bedroom.
His bed was huge, even for a man of his six-foot-four, 227-pound frame. It was a king-size mattress on a chocolate-brown leather-covered platform. His sheets and the complementing decor were in ivory. The moment he lay Tate on the satin comforter, her golden complexion and dark eyes became even more vibrant and her body became more alluring.
She moved to take off her shoes, but he pushed her hands away. “I’ll do it,” he told her. “You just lie there.”
It was just after nine in the evening, and there was a full moon that sent slashes of smoky white light through the slits in his blinds. He knelt on the floor in front of the bed and untied each of her shoes, pulling them slowly from her feet. He rubbed her bare soles up to her toes, massaging deeply.
Tate moaned, her head falling back on her shoulders. “That feels divine,” she told him.
“Just wait till I really get my hands on you,” was his reply.
Leaving her feet for the moment, he vowed it would not be the last foot massage she received from him. He undid the clasp of her jeans, slid the zipper down and then pulled the denim over her thighs and off. His hands whispered over her calves, upward until the soft flesh of her inner thighs warmed his fingertips. Spreading her legs slightly, he touched her juncture, which was covered in a silky fabric that had already grown damp.
She gasped, and he swallowed deeply, forcing himself to take his time. The T-shirt came next in a quick pull over her head. Sean sent up a silent thank-you to the heavens for matching panty-and-bra sets. The same cream-colored silk that graced her center cupped her mouthwatering breasts. On quick assessment, he noticed that it had a front clasp, and he gingerly pushed a finger between her mounds to release it. When they were free, it was his turn to gasp. Dark nipples instantly hardened, and he deftly lowered his head to take one into his mouth.
Spears of lust soared through his body, and his erection pressed against the zipper of his jeans. His hand grasped the second breast, kneading it while his mouth caressed its twin. Then he had to have both hands on her, so he grasped both breasts and pushing them together so his tongue could quickly move from one puckered nipple to the other.
Her fingers clenched tight at the back of his head as Sean’s heart pounded wildly in his chest. She whispered his name, and inside he went insane. It was a toss-up between the nervousness of the first time he’d had sex and the best sex he’d ever had. The intensity that rushed through him at this moment was almost overwhelming. What he knew for certain was that he’d never had an erection so hard, so damned persistent.
She grabbed at his shirt, pulling it from the collar in a race to get it over his head. He reluctantly tore his mouth away from her, dipping his head lower and straightening hi
s arms so she could remove the shirt. Her palms feathered over his bare skin, tracing a scorching path from his pectorals down to his stomach.
“It’s so damned hot in here,” he groaned, his teeth nipping her earlobe.
“That’s because you have on too many clothes.”
He leaned back on his knees, preparing to unbutton his pants, when she swiped his hands away and undid the button herself, pushing his pants along with his boxers over his hips. It took some maneuvering to get them and his shoes off, and they laughed as their bodies contorted in unseemly positions. When they fell back on the bed, both of them gloriously naked, she slapped a palm on his chest.
“Do you have protection?”
As if she had to ask. Sean didn’t respond, only rolled to his side and retrieved a condom from his nightstand. After he’d covered his length with the latex, he stretched over her, pushing her thighs apart, looking down into her lust-filled eyes.
“Never doubt that I’ll protect you, Tate. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said. And Sean never said what he didn’t mean.
* * *
He looked so sincere, his deep brown eyes so alluring, like some kind of drug drawing her in. And try as she might, Tate could not resist him. She just couldn’t.
So instead of fighting what she knew would be a losing battle, she extended her arms until they once again wrapped around his strong shoulders. There was strength in his touch, in the feel of skin over lean muscles. She found that touching him was intoxicating all by itself. Her fingers practically itched to drum along his skin. She sighed when her hands were clasped behind his head. And when she pulled him down and his lips hovered just over hers, she made her request.
“Take me.”
It felt familiar, like a lover returning after a long absence. They fit perfectly, his rhythm—hungry and erotically precise—matched hers exactly. When he moaned, Tate moaned. He filled her so completely that she wondered where he stopped and she began.
Never in her life had sex been this way, and that confused her, because this felt so natural. When he lifted her legs, resting them on his shoulders and thrusting deeper inside her, she couldn’t speak, could only grip the sheets tightly and close her eyes. Then she opened them again, because she didn’t want to miss one moment of seeing him. His face barely contorted, his jaw locked and strong, eyes piercing and focused solely on her. His lips parted slightly to accommodate the rush of breath. It was as if he were concentrating deeply on her.
Tate didn’t know how that should make her feel. What she did know for certain was that this joining was everything she’d ever imagined from a real lover. Not the quick jaunts in bed that she shared with Patrick. This was real, it was adult and it was driving her insane with a still-growing need.
“I can’t stop,” he said, his voice hoarse with the effort. “You feel so good.”
She gripped his biceps and moaned when he hit a particular spot, sending ripples of pleasure up and down her spine. “Yes! You feel good, too.”
He put her legs down, scissoring them to the side. She rolled partially, lifting her hips so he could enter her from this new direction.
“Mmmmm,” she moaned as his erection pierced her deeper at an angle that felt absolutely amazing.
“More?” he asked.
Hell yes! her mind screamed, but all she could manage was another, “Mmmmhmmm.”
After several glorious minutes, Sean pulled out of her gently and lay on his back. His strong hands gripped her hips and pulled her over his body. Tate straddled him instantly, her breath only hitching minutely.
Patrick never liked her on top, said it made her seem wanton and desperate. She’d dismissed the comments about her being too heavy to ride him in lieu of slapping him for them.
When her palms flattened on Sean’s stomach, he didn’t even flinch. Instead, his hands circled her hips, grasped her buttocks and kneaded. He licked his lips, blew out a deep breath and moaned.
“You feel so good, Tate. In my hands, connected to me, just everywhere.”
His words melted around her, wrapping her up like a favorite treat. Lifting herself slightly and touching his still-throbbing length, Tate guided him back inside. Her thighs trembled as she lowered herself onto his thick shaft. His teeth gritted. Finally, he was completely inside her and Tate remained perfectly still, loving the feel of him embedded so deep.
But that wasn’t the only feeling she loved. It was the power. As she lifted slightly, let a few inches of him slide from her tight grasp, he hissed, his teeth biting down on his lower lip. There was nothing but pleasure etched over his gorgeously sculpted face—pleasure that she provided. She rocked back gently and then slid down completely. He grabbed her hips tighter. She repeated the up, rock, down motion until he was cursing. Then she pumped faster, moving her hips to the blissful feel of his erection. The friction was fierce and caused her to tremble from its delectability.
When her climax came it was quick and strong and forced her thighs to clench around him, holding them close together until the swirling sensations were complete.
* * *
Sean watched with unparalleled pleasure as her head tilted back, her lips parted and she moaned with the force of her release. His hands stilled on her hips, fingers digging deep into her skin. She was beautiful, her skin glistening in the moonlight, her curves begging to be touched. He wanted her again and again, but he also wanted to find his release. Because that would cement what he’d been thinking since she’d climbed on top of him.
It was just like the dream he’d had nights ago—every sensation, every moan, every touch. This was the woman. He’d dreamed of her before he’d met her. Now he’d met her and he’d made love to her. He wouldn’t let her go, he knew that without a doubt. The name for the emotion swirling around in his chest eluded him at the moment, but he did not deny it outright. This was different for her—new, fast, doubtful. For him, the man who prided himself on being decisive, it was an absolute.
His release came with that thought, bursting from him in a rush of satisfaction. She collapsed on his chest, her hair tickling his nose. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close so that their hearts beat in unison.
She was his. Now and forever. That was a fact of which Sean was absolutely certain.
Chapter 12
“How did you cut your hand?”
“With glass,” was Patrick Dennison’s tight reply. “Just get me a towel, would you?” he yelled at the maid, who, in his estimation, was way too smart for her own good. Giselle was her name, and she was always in his face. Smiling and asking questions, touching his arm or glancing at him from beneath those long, dark lashes she had. He knew what she wanted, what she thought he had to give, and ordinarily he would have been eager to give it to her. But his return to Miami hadn’t been planned.
Tate wasn’t supposed to be here, but she was. And so he’d had to come.
He hadn’t thought about her in months. Hell, to be perfectly honest, Patrick hadn’t thought about Tate since the day he’d walked out of their apartment nine months ago. The divorce had been quick and painless—no contest, no reconciliation, just done. She hadn’t even asked for child support for the baby. And Patrick hadn’t offered a thing. He’d hung around Maryland for a while after that, spending his newly acquired fortune on booze and women. The next part of his plan consisted of long days on some secluded beach and hot, sultry nights with any willing female. Instead he was here, looking for Tate.
The first time he’d seen her had been three days ago at the Excalibur Business Center. He’d thought he was seeing things, because she didn’t look the same. Her face appeared softer, her clothes more attractive. This wasn’t the woman he’d married who’d worked at the local newspaper and read the obituaries just because. He’d been sitting in the car waiting, which was how he spent most of his time these day
s. She’d come out of the building talking with another woman, then they’d crossed the street and entered a parking garage.
The next day he’d shown up around the same time and followed her through the garage, noting that she drove the same car she had in Maryland. Now he knew where she lived and where the child went to day care. He didn’t really care about the child, not beyond how she fit into his current plan.
“You should maybe see a doctor, señor,” Giselle said, wrapping a bathroom towel around his right fist.
“I’m fine,” he told her, frowning so hard his temples throbbed.
Briana hadn’t been in her crib. He’d watched their apartment at night for the past two days. It faced the back of the building, and there was a Dumpster that put him up just high enough to pull down the fire escape and climb up until he was at their windows. From what he could see, Briana had a pretty room. So did Tate. She’d actually done better for herself than he’d thought she would.
In fact, that’s what had surprised him most about seeing her again. He’d been sure she would have run back to her family in Maryland, begging them to forgive her. She’d been so upset about cutting her ties with them, but Patrick was sure it was for the best. Her father and grandfather were meddling geezers who would have bled them dry the moment Patrick came into some money. And her sisters ran their mouths way too much, and they would have been filling Tate’s head with all sorts of nonsense about him. Leaving that crazy bunch alone had been a good decision.
Moving to the kitchen sink, he switched on the cold water, unwrapped his hand and thrust it beneath the spray. Tingles of pain rippled through his arm, and he clenched his teeth to keep from yelling out. Most likely there were still pieces of glass in his hand, but he wasn’t going to any hospital. That would bring too much attention, and he needed to lay low, at least for a while longer.
“Go get some tweezers,” he yelled to Giselle. “And hurry up!”
She moved quickly out of the room. In a hurry to please him, he thought with some satisfaction. That’s how cooperative he needed Tate to be.
Surrender to a Donovan (Kimani Romance) Page 9