She suckled the icing off his skin. It sent a jolt of desire straight to his groin. He met her eyes, recognizing a streak of mischief and perhaps a little desire.
“You're not done,” he informed her next, daring her to put her mouth on his. That's where most of the smeared cake remained.
His staff went wild with applause and laughter, clearly enjoying the spectacle.
“You're pushing it,” she said with a smile.
“And you're going to finish what you started.” Chayton set a hand on her hip and put the plate aside, more interested in what Kate would do next than finishing whatever remained of the cake.
She put her mouth right against his, staring into his eyes, then licked away the bits of icing with several smaller laps of her tongue. Chayton forced himself not to kiss her deeper, to kiss her like he meant to take her to bed right then.
On impulse, telling himself that he was simply following through with their 'act', he swept her into his arms. Her dress bunched against his body and draped femininely over her legs, giving just a peek of her shoes.
Yelping in surprise, she barely managed to set her plate down and wrap an arm around his neck before he carried her toward the stairs.
Behind them, the crowd erupted into fresh cat calls and shouts of congratulations.
Cautioning himself not to let instinct take over, he made the landing and struck out not for her room, which he should have done, but his suite.
So much for caution.
Chapter Eight
The single flute of champagne she'd imbibed just before dancing couldn't be the culprit of her mischief. Unsure what had gotten into her, Kate hooked her fingers around his nape, under the drape of his hair, and studied his eyes while he bypassed the hall to her room en route for his. She could feel the electric buzz of chemistry ready to explode between them and for the life of her, Kate couldn't make it stop. With a flare of desire that shocked her, she discovered she wanted another taste of his chin, his mouth.
So she leaned in to drag her tongue over his skin and up to his lips, rewarded with a quiet growl for her effort. He kissed her hard, curling the arm under her back higher to lift her closer against his chest. Breathless, Kate returned his kiss with an ardent coo of sound that got lost between their mouths.
The toe of his boot struck one of the double doors, swinging it open. He carried her inside and knocked the door closed with his heel, graceful and without jostling her in his arms.
Just how far would she allow this crazy kiss to go? She was in his room—maybe he'd meant to bring her here all along to maintain the facade of their wedding night—and in his arms, her mouth locked into a toe curling kiss. Kate couldn't see it ending with just this. Would she let him get his hands on her body? Did she want to get her hands on his?
Yes. The answer came on the heels of the question. Kate didn't understand how things had escalated this far, this fast, and didn't take the time to figure it out. She went with what her body wanted, and what her body wanted was Chayton.
He set her down near the bed, facing away from him. Kate gasped for air when their mouths broke apart, kicking off the heels when he started undoing the row of little buttons down the back of the gown. It was maddening to wait, feeling his breath on the skin of her shoulder. The score of his teeth toward her throat made Kate weak in the knees. She reached her hands back to stroke the outside of his thighs, needing some kind of anchor in the storm he wove so effortlessly around her.
The front of the gown gaped forward, exposing the soft swell of her breasts. Despite the buttons yet undone, Chayton reached around to slide his long fingered hands into the gap and cupped her, rolling her nipples into tight peaks with enough pressure to bring another gasp to her lips. Callouses on his palms abraded her skin in all the right ways, adding texture and friction that drove Kate wild.
Leaving his thighs, her hands fell to her dress, hiking the many layers up past her hips. She wanted less of a barrier between their bodies, wanted to feel the hard length of him pressed against her backside. Rewarded when he rolled his hips into hers, accentuating the hot brand of himself into her flesh, Kate pushed little circles of her pelvis into him, enticing, tempting, luring him closer.
This was madness. Pure and simple. Yet she couldn't quell the incessant urge to have him right here, right now. His mouth and teeth on her throat built the anticipation as much as the rest of his body, a groan spilling against her skin every time she rocked back into him.
No matter what else Anton had in store, what other plans and plots, Kate wouldn't deny herself the pleasure of Chayton. Anton was not half the man, not even close.
“Anton, yes, yes,” she whispered. It wasn't until she suddenly found herself face first in the covers of the bed that she realized the wrong name had slipped dreamily past her lips. Oh God, a split second thought turned into an unfortunate whisper—not the one Chayton wanted to hear. She twisted around on the bed, hands braced behind her, the gown still gaping forward to expose her naked breasts.
Chayton, short of breath with his hands curled into fists, stared hard at her. “What did you just say?”
“No, I didn't mean--”
“Really? You didn't mean to whisper his name like a lover you're used to taking to your bed?”
“Chayton, you have to listen to me. It was a mistake--”
“This...this is a mistake. You've been playing me all along, haven't you?”
Kate surged up off the bed, clutching the front of the gown to her chest. She didn't like the sudden wariness he exuded nor the way he stalked a few feet one way then another, as if he was deciding on a course of extreme action.
“I swear. Chayton, I have not been playing you. Everything I've told you recently has been true. It was just that I'd had a brief thought that Anton could never be half the man you are, and I guess because his name flickered through my mind, that's what came out. It was an accident.” She followed his progress through the room toward a side table, where he poured himself a drink. Glass clinked against glass, the low light spilling from a bedside lamp reflecting glints of gold off the crystal. He upended half the contents in one go, throat working the liquid down. Hissing faintly, he turned his head and met her eyes.
“You're going to tell me the truth. All of it, or so help me, Kate, I'll bring Anton Bertini to my doorstep and hand you over to him myself.”
. . .
Chayton's raging ardor suffered a massive setback after Kate moaned another man's name. Anton's name, at that. Despite the glacial cold settling into his system, it took longer than he liked for his pants to loosen along the front. Refusing to reach down and adjust himself, he finished off the scotch he'd poured and helped himself to another measure, waiting for Kate to do as he asked. Waiting to hear what 'truths' might spill from her lips next.
Would he believe her? At this point, he wasn't sure. And now he was in a real bind: if he expelled her from his room, if his staff saw him in a fit of fury, it might set off warning bells that all was not as it should be. And his staff would be right. Why he cared just now about saving face was beyond him, and mildly annoying.
“Anton met my mother at one of the social gatherings, two years past. Looking back all this time later, I realize that the meeting had probably been contrived. He'd likely scoped her out before hand, then came in and swept her off her proverbial feet.” Kate, clutching the top of the gown to her chest, stood up and paced near the door. Her expression waned from worried to distraught and back again. “She was older by twenty-some years and after a string of broken relationships, flattered that a young, handsome man paid that much attention to her.”
“I knew Anna was your mother and that she's recently deceased. Go on.” Chayton saw no reason not to state the truth as he knew it, too, and was rewarded with a slight gasp from Kate. Rather than berate him, as if she knew now wasn't the time or place, she straightened her spine and continued.
“I tried to warn her off Anton in the beginning. He just seemed greasy and untrus
tworthy, as if he was trying too hard. Never mind the secretive glances he stole my way all the time, watching me like he couldn't wait to get his hands on me. My mother never noticed, of course, and dated him through that first year into the next. She introduced him to a higher class of people, and began loaning him money when he approached her about his accruing debt. He knew just how to play her.” Kate paused, whisking away a strand of hair from her brow.
Chayton listened to the tale with growing interest despite his annoyance. Despite his hesitation to trust anything she said. She could very well be spinning the same yarn she insisted Anton had spun on Anna, and it made him more wary than he wanted to admit. The liquor he'd imbibed during the afternoon and evening started taking effect, heating him from the inside out. It helped him retain a more languid demeanor when he needed it most.
“And?” he asked.
Kate paced, the hem of the dress hissing over the floor. “Regardless of my mother's indiscretion regarding Anton, she did have one thing going for her—an extreme aversion to marriage. She refused to accept his proposals, which in turn began to agitate him. He sought me out several times and tried to brow beat me into forcing my mother to change her mind. I refused of course. Refused both his advances and his threats. Unbeknownst to us at the time, Anton continued racking up immense amounts of debt. He spent his entire fortune, and apparently even took out second loans on some of his properties to pay for his lifestyle. Anton bought properties in places like Monaco and Manhattan and Italy. He purchased exorbitant amounts of jewelry in an attempt to woo my mother to the altar. She wasn't having it, however. She denied him at every turn. Then, two weeks ago, she passed away. Within hours, Anton turned his attention to me, because he realized I'd just become the heiress of the family fortune. He threatened to drag me before an official, drugged to the bone, and lie about my acquiescence to the marriage. I went on the run because I was scared to death he'd follow through.”
Chayton didn't mistake the new tension running along Kate's shoulders or in the set of her jaw. While trying to decipher what was real and what was not, Chayton downed another entire drink. Soon, if he wasn't careful, his usually honed instincts would become more dulled than he was used to.
Everything Kate said seemed to fit with what he'd discovered on his own about her family. She corroborated Anton's debt and their suspected reason for his interest in 'Anna', who turned out to be Kate's mother after all. It appeared all the pieces were now in place. All except why she'd moaned Anton's name in a way that made him think they'd been lovers.
“And you're sure you weren't lovers before your mother's passing?” he asked, unable to help himself.
“No.” Kate met his gaze while she paced, adamant in her reply. “Never, not once. Nothing even close. This isn't some ploy or plan to trap you—why would I need to? Not for money. I've got millions. Many, many millions. Far more than Anton ever thought of having. There isn't a good reason for me to do such a thing.”
“He could have gotten his hands on your mother's money some way, some how. You told me you don't have access to your account—so who shut that down? Or is it that you simply don't have any money left, either? That could be a very good reason.” Chayton watched her expression, expecting outrage. Which is what he got. Kate gasped and stopped pacing.
“Mother never gave him any kind of control over her accounts. I don't know why or how he put a stop on my card, but he hasn't spent the family fortune. That I can guarantee.”
“Really? How is it that you can guarantee anything if you don't even know why your card was denied, or how he had the power to stop funding?” Chayton arched a brow. He knew he was being overbearing here, knew he was pushing her to her limits. Yet Anton's name from her lips, so sultry and seductive, echoed in his ears. Reminding him, making him wary.
“I don't know, Chayton! But it's not because I knew he'd drained my finances and decided to work with him to find someone else to bleed. I've never liked Anton. Not ever, even before he started putting moves on me while dating my mother.” She started pacing again, lips pressing tight.
“It sure didn't sound like you didn't like him,” he said in a silky, dark voice.
She lifted a hand, clearly exasperated, then slapped it down on the dress. “I told you. I'd been thinking about him a second before, just a fleeting thought. It happens sometimes.”
“Not when you've got another man's mouth and hands on your skin.” He set the glass down and stalked into the master bath. From there he made his way into the closet.
“Chayton, what are you doing? I'm telling you the truth about everything, and I'm sorry Anton's name slipped out.” She walked to the threshold beneath the arch, holding the dress tight against her bust.
That was how he found her when he emerged from his expansive closet with a crisp, white button down in hand. He tossed it to her. “That'll have to do for now, until morning, when I can get your other things from your room. If I leave here now, and anyone sees me, they'll get suspicious.”
Kate caught the shirt with her free hand, then did some stalking of her own. She brushed past him and closed the door to the bathroom.
Chayton sat on the end of the bed, oblivious to her raw mood. His wasn't much better. Now he had to spend the night in here with her after nearly making love to her not fifteen minutes earlier.
Excellent.
He snorted at his own inner sarcasm, one shoe and then the other dropping to the floor. He stood and removed the jacket, draping it over the back of a nearby chair. The vest came next, along with the tie. He removed it with tugs and yanks, impatient to be rid of it.
. . .
Kate paced the bathroom in front of the long counter, not seeing the pretty gold frame around the equally long mirror or the Roman style urns sitting on either side of a jacuzzi style tub. Rubbing her forehead with her fingers, she fought off tears. It wasn't just talking about her mother's demise, but the ruination of something she knew would have been beautiful. So they were acting on primal impulse—that mattered little to Kate. The chemistry had been hot and for once, she'd been impatient to give herself over to it. To do something bold and brazen, to take and to give without worrying about the consequences. She should be grateful that he wasn't sending her packing, yet all she could do was mourn the chasm she'd put between them.
Glancing at herself in the mirror made it worse. She looked exactly like a bride in the midst of a tryst, with her half open gown, a few strands of hair coming loose from its high style. Her cheeks were still flushed, though she knew it was from frustration rather than passion.
She loathed taking the rest of the gown off herself. Not after Chayton had so wonderfully removed part of it with his deft fingers. Draping the shirt over the counter, she struggled with the buttons at the back, wincing for the way she had to torque her arms into unnatural positions. She'd had help getting into the gown thanks to the awkward line of buttons that were impossible for one person to reach. He'd undone enough to allow her access to those nearer the base of her spine, and she slipped several free of their holes. It gave her the room she needed to ease the material past her hips to pool at her feet.
Stepping out of the gown, Kate rolled down the sheer stocking from her legs, chin trembling. She wouldn't cry over this. She wouldn't. Tossing a stocking to the floor, she rolled down the next, then gathered all the wedding clothing and draped it over the edge of the jacuzzi tub. Soft light coming in the windows made the bathroom into a sexy scene of glimmering satin and beads, with layers and layers of tulle adding a feminine touch.
It took her longer to unwind her hair from the updo and ease the string of tiny pearls from the strands. She left the pearls on the counter and undid the clasp to the half-bra, which she carelessly draped atop the strand. Leaving the satin underwear in place, she pulled on Chayton's shirt, breath catching in her throat at the image she presented opposed to the tousled bride of minutes before. She looked more like the woman he'd first encountered in his closet than the fake bride he'd nearly
taken on the bed.
Hating how the energy had changed, she buttoned all the buttons, smoothing her hands down over the edges of the shirt. It rode high on her thighs, covering everything that needed covering.
Departing the bathroom, she entered the bedroom and paused. Chayton stood in front of the window, shirtless with just his slacks on. The breadth of his back invited her to skim her fingertips across the sinew, to trail her lips down the strong length of his spine. His silhouette presented a well built, masculine outline, appealing along every hard contour. The long tail of his black hair added to the allure rather than detracted, something she found strange considering she'd never been drawn to men with hair longer than a short crop. It fit his persona, made him different than men she was used to.
“You can sleep in the bed,” he said without turning around. He had another half full tumbler in hand.
“I'll sleep in the chair.” It would leave her with aches and kinks in the morning, but she didn't care.
“You'll sleep in the bed,” he repeated, his voice bearing a slight edge of impatience.
Kate marched over to one of the plush chairs and sank down into it.
He twisted at the waist to glance her way. Even in shadow from moonlight shining in behind him through the window, Kate detected a shift in his expression when his gaze landed on the shirt. Or more appropriately, her in his shirt. Lifting the glass, he took a slow drink.
“Does this mean we're still going to Hawaii? Or have you decided to call Anton and hand me over to him?” Kate wasn't sure where the bold questions came from. Perhaps from the same instinct that led her to flee her home to begin with. If Chayton meant to contact Anton, she'd find a way to leave and go out on her own again. Chayton didn't own her—she could do as she wished.
Sex and lust be damned.
“Everything is already in motion. We're going to Hawaii tomorrow morning, as planned.”
“Does this mean you believe me?”
Chayton Page 8