by Jaci Burton
Scooping her buttocks in his hands, he pushed hard, deep, and she flew into a climax that had her weeping as waves of ecstasy crashed over her. Rain poured down and a gust of wind blew papers all around the studio as the chocolate washed away in the storm. Brett buried his face in her neck and groaned her name, shooting hot jets of cum deep into her womb.
Gasping and panting for breath, she held tight to him, savoring the feel of them joined so intimately.
She never wanted to let go. Having him inside her was perfection, the culmination of every dream she’d ever had about the man she loved.
He raised his head and took her mouth in a kiss so tender her heart throbbed with love for him.
“We’re stuck together,” he said with a grin.
She knew he meant by chocolate, but when he wriggled his hips all she could think of was cock to pussy. “Indeed we are. I like it that way.”
“I meant the chocolate.”
She giggled. “I know.”
“How about a shower?”
“Definitely.”
The tenderness Brett showed when soaping and rinsing her convinced her there was something very special between them, that her emotion hadn’t been one-sided after all. She shuddered with need and love for him every time his hands touched her skin, every time his dark eyes met hers.
After they dressed, they made plans for him to finish the portrait by the end of the week, right before the fundraiser. Though no words, no commitments, were spoken between them, when she stood at the front door to say goodnight, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her with more emotion than she had ever felt before. She stumbled out the door, more confused than ever.
She was hopelessly lost and in love with Brett, and had no idea what to do about it. He’d never mentioned love to her, or a relationship. Only sex and even that they hadn’t discussed. They’d just done it.
She slipped into her car and sat there, staring at the lights inside his house, wishing she were still in there, still making love with him. How easy it would be to forget reality and get lost in lovemaking.
But logic reared its ugly head and forced her to face facts. She was in way over her head with Brett, with no clearer picture of their relationship now than she’d had two weeks ago.
Did he love her? Did he care? Or was she merely convenient, someone to have sex with? Desire was there, of that there was no doubt. But she knew she needed so much more from him than simply great sex.
So much for her grand plan. All she’d done was open her heart to a man she was afraid had no idea what to do with it.
Chapter Eight
Brett stood at the entrance to the Rising Storm’s Grand Ballroom, smiling benignly and shaking hands with everyone who entered. After all, these people had paid over a thousand dollars a ticket to have dinner and then pay even more money at the auction. The least he could do was smile at them.
The bow tie around his neck felt like a noose. He’d like nothing more than to shed his stupid, confining tux and slip into paint-stained jeans and a T-shirt, then spend the evening in his home studio, just like he’d done the past week.
Of course he’d had company while painting, namely his sexy, constantly naked subject. She’d tried his patience lying there batting her dark lashes innocently while he tried his best to still his shaking hand and subdue his raging hard-on. Some nights he didn’t even make it an hour before he threw the brush down in disgust and went to her, dragging her into his arms to spend the remainder of the night making love.
So much for his resolve to push her out of his life. He’d failed miserably, in fact he was pretty certain she was in love with him.
And he knew damn well he was in love with her.
Recipe for disaster. He’d have to put a stop to it. The portrait was finished, and after tonight’s event he’d have no further reason to have contact with her.
She’d done a damn fine job putting the fundraiser together. The room was decorated in shades of velvet and gold. Artwork she’d chosen graced the lobby along with a massive sign proclaiming tonight’s event. Paintings and sculptures to be auctioned tonight were lined up along the roped-off area between the walls and tables, allowing the patrons to walk up and down the long ballroom and inspect the items up for bid. There was plenty to drink, a smorgasbord of food, and he couldn’t wait for it to be over with. Then again, when he saw her walk into his line of vision, he lost his ability to breathe, the last thing on his mind ending the relationship with her. Maybe he could delay the end for a few more hours. He wanted to make love to her one more time.
One addiction for another. One more time would become another one more time, until he never let her go. No, tonight had to be it.
The black dress clung to her body in all the right places. Sleeveless, it was cut in a low vee in front, showing a subtle amount of cleavage. A delicate silver lariat necklace dipped down into the shadow between her breasts.
He tried to swallow, to no avail. When she caught his eye, she smiled. Her eyes glowed like a woman in love. A woman in love with him. His heart lurched against his ribs, his pulse racing as he watched the soft sway of her hips, the dress hugging her long legs and slit up each side almost to her thighs. His gaze followed one slender leg from mid-thigh all the way down, where a tiny silver bracelet called attention to her slim ankle.
Even the shoes she wore got him hard. He wanted to fuck wearing only those shoes. Drag that sexy dress from her body and take her up against the wall right here in the ballroom while she wore only those stiletto heels.
God, he was getting an erection in the middle of New Orleans polite society. The worst part was he didn’t think he cared.
“Evening,” she said as she stopped in front of him.
Inhaling her scent was even worse. She worse no cologne, just the fresh lavender smell of her shampoo and the natural scent of her body. He fought to clear his throat and find something appropriate to say to her. “You’re gorgeous.”
That wasn’t what he intended to say, but it brought color to her cheeks and a golden glitter to her eyes. She pressed a hand to her throat and smiled. “Thank you. So are you.”
He shook his head and held out his arm for her, then guided her into the ballroom. “You’ve done an incredible job with the fundraiser, Kait. I could never have pulled this off without you.”
“That’s my job, Brett. But I have to tell you I had fun coordinating this event. I can’t wait to see how much money the Art Council makes tonight.”
From his knowledge of the net worth of the combined population of the room, he’d wager the council would rake in a bundle.
That was the easy part. The hard part would come later, when this was all over. It was now or never with Kaitlyn. He’d have to make the break with her tonight, or he was afraid he never would. He was weak where she was concerned. He wanted her, of that there was no doubt. But he was starting to need her, to miss her when she wasn’t with him, and that wasn’t good for either of them.
It was especially bad for her. Because if he didn’t let her go, he’d hurt her. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but he knew he would someday. And that he refused to do.
It was going to be damn hard to let her go. Her fresh spring fragrance entered his senses, making him feel like he was standing outside in a meadow filled with sweet lavender.
“I’ve got to go do a few hostess-type things, but I’ll see you around,” she said, looking from side to side. Then, with a quick shrug as if she didn’t care who saw, she cupped his cheeks and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips that still burned on his mouth long after she’d sauntered away.
After that the night passed in a blur of activities. He talked, pressed flesh, encouraged donations to the Art Council and did his best impression of a fundraising manager. He tried to keep his eye on Kaitlyn, but she was busier than he, coordinating both the food and drink staff and still finding time to stop at every single table and talk up the fundraiser. She wore two hats tonight. One as event coordinator, the other
as an attendee, along with her parents.
She was an amazing woman. He loved her.
And he was going to let her go.
Part of him thought it was the biggest mistake he’d ever make. The other part of him thought it was the most noble thing he could ever do for her.
Though he didn’t feel very fucking noble about it.
“You’re drooling over my daughter.”
Brett turned at the sound of a deep voice behind him, smiling at Galen Storm. Galen was a bear of a man who looked just as uncomfortable in his tux as Brett felt in his. His eyes showed a pained expression that was either due to too tight shoes or too many people hovering about.
“You look about as happy as I am to be here,” Brett teased.
“Yeah, but I’m not drooling. Though looking at Angelina makes my mouth water.”
Brett laughed and followed Galen’s gaze to Angelina. She stood next to Kaitlyn, looking more like her sister than her mother. Angelina, like Kait wore black with silver jewelry, their faces lit up as they laughed with each other.
In thirty years or so, Kaitlyn would look just like her mother, just as ravishing as she did right now.
His chest tightened as he watched them together. Galen was a very lucky man. Brett was an idiot to let Kaitlyn go.
“My daughter loves you.”
Brett tore his gaze away from Kaitlyn and looked at Galen, affecting a casual smile despite his discomfort at Galen’s comment. “Nah, she doesn’t love me.”
He was hoping no one would see the look in Kaitlyn’s eyes, but obviously it was too late. Dammit, this wasn’t going to sit well with the Storms when he stopped seeing Kaitlyn.
But hell, it wasn’t like he could give her the fairytale romance that her parents had. Galen and Angelina Storm were the model for a couple in love after thirty-five years of marriage. They were the glue that held the family together, and they were the people he’d been most comfortable with growing up, even more so than his own parents. He’d spent a lot of time at the Storm house while his parents were out partying and getting drunk every weekend. Maybe he should have spent more time with the Storms and less with his own parents. Though he didn’t blame them for his problems, he couldn’t help but feel he’d followed in his parents’ footsteps, and not in a good way. They didn’t exactly set the best example of wholesome, clean living.
When he was a kid he dreamed about Galen and Angelina adopting him so he could live with a “normal” family. That hadn’t happened, and no matter how he wanted to deny it, the lifestyle of his parents had rubbed off on him. But he’d also had a choice to be like them or not, and he’d chosen to emulate the worst parts of them. That’s what he wouldn’t expose Kaitlyn to.
“Kaitlyn’s lovely,” Brett said. “But you don’t have to worry about her and me. There’s nothing going on between us.”
Galen arched a brow. “Why would I worry? I’d love to see you with my daughter.”
Pain ripped through him, the knowledge of how much he was going to hurt Kait as well as her family tearing a hole in his chest. “Thanks. But I think our lifestyles are too different. She’s just enamored right now because I painted her.”
“Yes,” Galen said, coughing uncomfortably. “We won’t get into how you painted her. Some things parents don’t need to dwell on. Just treat her right, son, and you’ll make her happy.” He squeezed Brett’s shoulder and moved off to join his wife, slipping his arm around Angelina’s waist and pulling her against his side.
Kaitlyn beamed as she watched her parents. Brett knew that was the kind of happily ever after she was looking for. A man who could offer her stability and strength.
Brett could offer her neither. And the sooner she recognized that, the better.
The rest of the night went off without a single glitch. Dinner was fabulous and the auction was a huge hit. They sold every item, some for an amount that made even his eyes widen. The Art Council would be able to provide several years funding for grants and projects now. The members of the board congratulated him and said he could be their permanent fundraising chairman if he wanted the job.
When things started to wind down, his tension began to increase. He knew Kaitlyn would expect them to spend the night together, only he wasn’t going to give her what she expected.
“Hey there, stranger.”
He whirled at the sound of a feminine voice, frowning for a moment until recognition struck. Gail, the blonde he’d driven home from the bar. “Hi, Gail. I didn’t see you earlier. Who are you here with?”
Great. A mistake he’d almost made the other night, come back to haunt him.
She grinned and sloshed a little wine out of her glass, clearly as drunk tonight as she’d been that night in the bar. “I’m here with Miles Denton. But he’s boring.”
Brett laughed. He couldn’t argue with her there. He’d known Miles for years. Besides the fact he was a stuffy art snob, the man was at least twenty-five years older than Gail.
“You passed up a really good thing with me the other night. Or at least I think you did. I kind of passed out. What actually happened when you brought me home?”
“I placed you on your couch and left.”
Her lips formed a red pout. “That’s too bad.” When she trailed her finger over his bow tie, he swallowed hard, decidedly uncomfortable with her forwardness. “Maybe we could correct that oversight tonight. After all, you said you wanted to fuck me the other night.”
Gail’s gaze drifted over his shoulder and her lips tightened. Brett turned his head, his heart slamming against his chest as a wide-eyed Kaitlyn stepped around them. Shit! She’d heard what Gail said, it was obvious. Her face had gone pale, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. Before he could utter a single word, she scooted around them and hurried away.
“Kaitlyn, wait!” He started to go after her but Gail clutched his arm like a lifeline.
“Hey. We were talking.”
Trying for patience, he turned to Gail and said, “Let me set you straight. I made a big mistake the other night, thinking I’d use you to forget someone I cared about. I’m sorry, Gail, but I don’t want this. And frankly, I don’t think you do, either.”
She shrugged and drained her glass of wine, nearly toppling off her high heels when she tilted her head back. “I just want to have some fun. Shouldn’t I be allowed to have some fun?”
How many times over the years had he used that excuse for drinking himself into oblivion? But he couldn’t help Gail with her problem. Only she could do that. Relief washed over him as Miles appeared, shaking his head at Gail’s weaving form.
“I think she needs some assistance out of here,” Brett suggested.
Sniffing, Miles nodded. “I’ll make sure she gets home safely. Really, Gail, must you drink so heavily?”
Miles led her away, Gail babbling and giggling as she leaned against him. Brett shook his head, then immediately turned to search for Kaitlyn.
The room was practically empty now, and she was nowhere to be seen.
She’d heard Gail talk about the other night. God, what she must think of him! This wasn’t how he wanted to end things with her. Not with her thinking he was a cheating, lying bastard.
He had to talk to her, had to explain what had been going through his head the night he picked Gail up.
If he could manage to figure it out himself.
Kaitlyn paced the confines of her living room, still seething about that blonde bitch falling all over Brett. Jealousy and hurt mixed together in a powerful concoction of really disturbing emotions. She rubbed her arms, shivering despite the warmth of her sweatpants and long-sleeved shirt.
Embarrassment at her quick exit took a little chill from the air. How old was she, anyway? Sometimes she wondered if she still bore the raging emotions of a seventeen year old. She’d torn out of the ballroom as quickly as she could, unable to face Brett after what she’d heard.
Okay, not her most mature moment, but then again, what was she supposed to do when she overh
eard that woman say Brett had wanted to fuck her the other night? What other night? Was it during the time period that they’d been…
…No. Brett wouldn’t do that. Would he? That didn’t seem like Brett at all. She’d been with him damn near every night for the past few weeks, and God knows lately they’d had enough sex to exhaust them into a deep sleep. Why would he go looking for more?
Wasn’t she enough for him? What the hell was it going to take to make that man happy?
Maybe more than she could offer. She flopped into a chair and propped her bare feet on the coffee table, an emptiness gnawing in the pit of her stomach as she realized how foolish she’d been. She’d barreled into his life, forced him to paint her, forced him to have sex with her…she’d pretty much forced herself on him in every possible way, despite his continued protests.
He didn’t want her. Okay, he wanted to fuck her, but he didn’t want her in his life. If he could take up with another woman while still seeing her, then it didn’t matter how much of her heart she gave Brett. She’d never have all of his.
The gnawing ache felt like a hole in her stomach. Realization and cold reality chilled the air even further. It was over. She might be dim-witted and obstinate, but even she knew when to throw in the towel.
When the doorbell rang, her gaze flitted to the clock on the wall. It was eleven o’clock. Who the hell could be here? She rose and went to the peephole, mentally cursing when she saw Brett standing there.
Damn. She laid her forehead against the door, not in the mood to talk to him right now. Besides, whatever he had to say wouldn’t make any difference. She was finished with him.
“Kait, I know you’re there. I can hear you breathing against the door.”
She sighed and blinked away tears. Might as well let him in, then. Besides, she had a few things she wanted to say to him, starting with “it’s over”.
She opened the door and said, “What are you doing here?”
He was still dressed in his tux, though his tie was gone, collar unbuttoned and his jacket was open. And he looked entirely too edible. She was supposed to hate him, not want him.