But for all Cecilia’s reserve, she didn’t seem to have any fear, and met the brutal press of his mouth with a fierceness that surprised him.
He gripped the curve of her hips, pulling her close.
She groaned into him, twining her hands around his neck and rising onto tiptoes to plaster herself against his body.
She was tall, at least five-eight to his six-four, and damned if she didn’t fit his body like she was made for him.
He slanted his mouth deeper, twining his tongue with hers. A low rumble vibrated in his throat as she pressed her breasts against him.
It was too damn fast.
Too damn much.
But hell if he cared. He just fucking wanted her.
He lifted her leg, hooking it around his waist, then rocked his hard cock between her thighs, sucking in a deep breath when her hips tilted to meet his.
She smelled delicious, like sugar and vanilla, and he wanted to devour her.
The kiss went on and on.
Wetter.
Hotter.
Wild.
Desire stampeded through his blood until he could think of nothing but stripping her naked and pounding into her.
Her nails dug into the back of his neck. Demanding more.
She was like him that way. Greedy.
He tore away and skimmed his lips down her delicate throat, loving how she moaned under his tongue. How her pulse was a furious beat against his mouth.
He had the unbearable urge to mark her. Stake his claim. The need to possess her drove him hard. Like a primal, demanding need. He bit her, sinking his teeth into her soft, pale flesh.
She cried out, tilting and twisting against his erection.
He palmed her breasts, rubbing his thumbs over her peaked nipples. Frustrated, he let out a growl. He wanted skin to skin. He slipped his hands under her T-shirt, skimming over her flat belly up to her satin-covered breasts. He whispered in her ear, “Upstairs. Now.”
She lifted her head, her eyes dazed. “Shane. We can’t—”
He met her gaze. “Yes, Cecilia.”
“But—”
He kissed her again and she melted into him until she practically climbed up him in an effort to get closer.
Breathless, he lifted his head. “I need to see you come. It’s all I can think about and it’s distracting as hell.”
Those big storm-blue eyes peered at him. “I’m distracting?”
“Fuck yes.” He gripped her chin. “It’s going to happen sooner or later, and it can be later if that’s what you need—but I have to make you come. Right now. And I’d prefer to be somewhere we’re not interrupted. Like my bed.”
She took a deep breath. “Why?”
Because he needed to mark her. Claim her. Make her orgasm so hard, every climax she had without him paled in comparison. A mad rush of illogical, irrational thoughts. He settled on the least confusing of the bunch. “I want to see you lose control. I want to know it was by my hands. I want to see what you look like.”
Her brow furrowed. “That’s a lot of pressure to perform.”
He kissed her. A hard brush of his mouth. “Trust me, you’re not going to be doing anything but begging.”
Her eyes flashed but he didn’t miss the quick intake of breath. “I never beg.”
He lowered his gaze to her lips then raised it to meet her direct gaze. “Challenge accepted.”
She blinked, the dazed expression clearing as rational thought prevailed.
All he needed to do was take her in his arms and all the raw chemistry between them would take over, but he didn’t want that. As much as he wanted her, she had to choose him. He stepped back. “So what’s it going to be, Cecilia? You coming with me or not? Yes or no.”
Her lips quirked and she tilted her head to the side. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re bossy and arrogant?”
“Yep,” he said, tone matter-of-fact. “Your call. Yes or no?”
He waited, honestly not sure what she’d say or do, and he liked that about her too.
She was a surprise.
“I shouldn’t,” she said, her tongue darting out to wet her lower lip.
“Why? We’re adults.”
“I have my reasons.” Her eyes flashed, like a storm cloud lit with lightning before she shifted her attention. “We should stop this.”
Something that resembled vague unease niggled in the corner of his brain, but he pushed it aside. He wasn’t in the mood to analyze. He was in the mood to act. And as far as he was concerned she hadn’t said no yet. “Yes or no?”
She assessed him, carefully looking him over. There was no flirt in her gaze, no seduction in her movement, just a slow, steady appraisal.
He never got his answer.
The door swung open and a gaggle of women flew in.
Cecilia straightened, crossing her arms over her chest.
Shane wanted to put his fist through the wall as Maddie, her two best friends, and Charlotte filled the kitchen.
Maddie smiled at them, her hands full of shopping bags she plopped on the kitchen table. “Look who I found outside.”
Cecilia stealthily took three steps to her right, distancing them. Other than her swollen mouth, all traces of passion had disappeared like a mirage.
He gritted his teeth. “Soph, Penelope. Good trip?”
“Hey, Shane,” Sophie said, waving at him.
Penelope, neat and orderly as ever, with her brown hair pulled into a clip and her serious black-framed glasses perched on her nose, nodded at him. She was a godsend to him and held the key to his business life, but right now he wanted to fire her on general principle. Only, as usual, she’d done nothing wrong, so he didn’t have a good excuse. But he gave it a good college try and barked, “Did you get those spreadsheets to the mayor’s office before you left?”
She huffed. “Nice greeting. And clearly you haven’t been reading your e-mail or you’d have seen I got them off.”
Of course she did. Sometimes her efficiency really pissed him off. Especially when he hadn’t had sex in three months and Cecilia was giving him a serious case of blue balls.
Maddie glared at him. “Stop that, she’s on vacation.”
Shane shrugged. “Well, it sucks for her that she’s stuck on vacation with her boss, doesn’t it?”
Penelope flicked a dismissive glance over him. “Boundaries, Shane, remember your boundaries.”
Sophie, a cute little blonde with a wild, rebellious streak that had always gotten his sister into trouble, grinned at him. “We need help with the bags.”
Shane ground his teeth.
So. Fucking. Close.
Maddie hung her purse on the hook next to the back door and smiled at Cecilia. “Did you have a good day with Gracie?”
He watched the reserve roll over her—the straightening of her spine, the squaring of her shoulders, the way her expression smoothed out.
“It was quite lovely,” Cecilia said, her tone once again polite instead of the husky rasp from minutes ago. She nodded at his sister’s friends. “Penelope and Sophie, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”
Penelope smiled. “You too, and congratulations on your big news.”
Cecilia gasped, shock and horror flashing over her face.
Shane’s gut tightened.
Charlotte walked over to Cecilia and her arm lifted as though to comfort her, but then she stopped and pressed two fingers over her lips.
Shane recognized the feeling—the suspension when everything hung in the air as he waited for the rug to be pulled from under him. The unmistakable moment of dread when the inevitable couldn’t be stopped.
Maddie frowned. “What news?”
Penelope’s mouth etched in confusion. “You didn’t tell them?”
Cecilia blinked and clenched her hands. “No, not yet.”
“Tell us what?” Maddie asked.
Cecilia looked at him. Her eyes seemed pleading for a fraction of a second before shuttering closed. She turned away.
A bone-deep chill.
She tilted her chin, her posture taking on the look of royalty. “I’m getting married.”
Chapter Nine
Dread constricted Cecilia’s throat as her skin turned cold and clammy. She couldn’t even look at Shane. Couldn’t stand what she’d see on his face.
All that heat, gone.
She missed it already.
Shell-shocked, all she could do was stand there, frozen and stiff as Maddie squealed and threw her arms around her. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
Cecilia patted the smaller woman on the back. “I didn’t want to take away any of your thunder.”
Over Maddie’s head, she glanced at her mother, who was frowning, her amber eyes filled with dark shadows.
Cecilia swallowed the emotions that wanted to rise to the surface.
This house, this place, and Shane, made it so easy to pretend. To hope.
She steeled her spine and pulled away. Time to return to reality. To her real life. Her future.
Maddie still held Cecilia by the arms. “I can’t believe this, I didn’t even know you were dating anyone.”
She hadn’t been. It was a modern-day arranged marriage meant to improve her political position. “We’ve kept it very quiet.” Their standard PR line.
Maddie dropped her hands and searched her face, her brow creased. “But we’re your family.”
A coldness washed over her skin and she wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the chill. “His name is Miles Fletcher.”
“I assume he’s coming to the wedding,” Maddie said, and Cecilia’s heart beat fast from sheer horror.
“Um,” Cecilia said, her mind blank. She could feel Shane’s gaze on her back. Sense his anger beating at her. More than anything she wanted to turn to him and explain, but she couldn’t do that. “I’m not sure that’s possible.”
Maddie’s head tilted to the side. “Invite him for the weekend so we can get to know him.”
Cecilia forced a smile to her lips. “Maybe after the wedding when things have calmed down.”
Above all else, Shane was a man who appreciated honor. He’d never forgive her. Never understand why she had to do this.
She didn’t even like Miles Fletcher. Well, in fairness, she didn’t dislike him either. He served a purpose. He was a wealthy businessman with political inroads and the right party connections. With his old money and connections Miles would influence the good old boys who wouldn’t support her without a proper husband.
Her father had arranged it and nobody denied his logic. She needed a husband. Miles agreed to the arrangement. The terms had been drawn. Problem solved. That’s business.
When she’d agreed, she hadn’t believed she was losing anything important. She’d never wanted to get married. Never wanted to risk it. She’d spent too many years watching her mom lose to the senator’s true love—his career. As a young child she’d vowed never to love a man like that.
And she’d kept her vow.
Only, since the article had been released and she’d come to Revival, she’d been plagued by doubts. Doubts she couldn’t give voice to because to do so would give them even more power.
Maddie’s attention shifted to Penelope. “How did you find out?”
Penelope, who possessed a kind of sensibleness Cecilia could appreciate, said, “It was in the paper yesterday. Don’t you guys read?”
Maddie shrugged. “I don’t get the paper.”
“Let me get this straight,” Shane said, finally breaking his silence.
She cringed, bracing herself for what was to come. Her stomach felt as if it fell to the floor. She wasn’t ready.
He grabbed her elbow and spun her around.
For the first time in her life she was struck with the desire to run, but it was too late.
All four of the other women’s faces opened wide in surprise. Someone gasped.
With narrowed eyes, she tilted her head toward the all-too-interested audience. “Shane.”
“Forget them.” His green eyes were filled with a kind of cold fury that told her in no uncertain terms that he would never, ever forgive her. “You’re fucking engaged?”
“Yes.” The word like broken glass on her tongue.
His grip tightened. “To Miles Fletcher? That asshole old enough to be your father?”
Not quite, but Cecilia didn’t correct him, nor was she surprised Shane knew him. Miles owned an energy company; it made sense their paths had crossed. She nodded. There was no denying the truth now. “Yes.”
His jaw hardened and his eyes turned to chips of ice.
It shook her. She’d gotten used to his warmth. The strength of his arms. The way he looked at her.
She’d lost something after all. Already the price felt too high. Which was crazy. How well did she even know him?
Penelope cleared her throat and looked at the other women. “Maybe we should . . . go.”
Maddie looked back and forth between Cecilia and Shane. “What’s going on here?”
Cecilia stared at the floor, Shane’s fingers a vise around her elbow.
“Leave.” Shane’s tone broached no argument and sounded so deadly Cecilia wanted to scurry along after them.
The younger women filed out of the kitchen, the swinging door flapping behind them, but her mom stayed firmly in place. Full of questions, Charlotte’s gaze met hers.
Cecilia nodded, signaling she’d be okay.
Charlotte opened her mouth, then shut it, and left.
When the door swung shut, Shane yanked her elbow. “Explain yourself.”
Oh, how she wanted to, but that wasn’t possible. “What do you want me to say?”
“Did it ever occur to you, at any point when I touched you, to mention that you were getting married, Cecilia?”
The truth was, no, it hadn’t. Miles Fletcher and their arrangement hadn’t crossed her mind, because she had no connection or loyalty to him. But that was impossible to explain. It was better this way. She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry!” he yelled, his voice loud enough to shake the rafters. “What kind of woman are you?”
She let her mask slide over her expression and met his gaze, unflinching. “I should have told you.”
“That’s it?” He dropped her elbow fast, as though she’d burned him. “That’s all you have to say for yourself?”
She swallowed hard, blinking as her eyes pricked with tears. Why was it so hard with him? To stay cool and distant when it had been so easy in the past. “I don’t know what else I’m supposed to say.”
He looked at her for a long, long time and every second that passed his eyes grew colder. A muscle in his jaw worked as he said through gritted teeth, “I should have stuck to my first fucking instinct about you.”
She nodded but said nothing.
He turned and walked out of the house, slamming the door behind him.
It was better he hate her. Better in the long run.
He’d continue to believe she was an ice-cold bitch, and she’d go back to being one.
The problem of what to do about Shane Donovan had been solved.
Shane threw his car keys down on the bar and said to Sam Roberts, “Give me a double scotch, neat.”
One brow rose up Sam’s forehead. “Tough day?”
Shane’s gaze narrowed. “Just get me the fucking drink.”
“Guess so,” Sam drawled lazily, then moved down the bar, grabbing a rocks glass on the way.
Shane dragged a hand through his hair. The bar was dark and nearly deserted, matching his mood and furious thoughts.
He could not believe she was getting married. He wanted to hate her. The anger and rage burned hot inside him, but he couldn’t latch on to the hate.
And he needed it.
It was the only way he could get through the next two weeks.
Something in her eyes had reached inside and grabbed ahold of him. They’d been filled with—fuck, he didn’t know—despai
r? Loss? She’d looked hurt. Like she was the wronged party. When he’d watched her struggle to pull herself together he’d had to leave, because instead of the appropriate fury, he’d wanted to gather her up and protect her.
Which made no fucking sense.
He gritted his teeth. She was getting married. There was nothing left to say about the matter. She didn’t need his protection. Hell, she didn’t need anything from him.
It was over. Period. The end.
Only...
Sam returned, thankfully interrupting his thoughts. He set the glass down and free poured a healthy dose of scotch. Shane squinted at the bottle, an eighteen-year-old single malt. Shane pointed to it. “Is there a big demand for hundred-dollar bottles of scotch in Revival?”
Sam set the bottle down on the counter. “It’s good to keep on hand for those times you need a little something extra.”
Shane grabbed the glass. Yep, this was one of those times. He gulped it down in three swallows, not appreciating it the way he should, but grateful nonetheless. He slid the glass across the bar. “Hit me.”
Sam poured another two fingers and Shane downed it. “Again.”
Sam swiped up his keys. “If you want another, I’m going to have to take these.”
“Fine by me.” Shane pushed the glass forward.
The alcohol was already rushing to his head and he hoped like hell it would knock some sense into him.
Sam filled the glass a third of the way. This time Shane didn’t gulp but took a measured sip, savoring the taste like he should. “This is damn good.”
Sam nodded and tucked Shane’s keys into his pocket.
Needing a distraction, he looked around the drab, dingy bar. “You haven’t made many changes.” The place was still as run-down as the first time he’d come here to claim his runaway sister and found her in the back room doing things he still had nightmares about.
Sam looked around, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw. “I’m still trying to figure out what I want to do with it.”
“Sell it?” Shane offered. The bar needed a lot of work before it was a place anyone besides alcoholics and manic-depressives would step foot in.
Sam laughed, not insulted in the least. “I like fixing things and I only just bought it from Mitch a couple months ago. Now that it’s mine, I can figure it out.”
The Winner Takes It All Page 10