His Every Need (10 page)

“Are you trying to get rid of me, Miss Campbell?”

“Yes. Now scoot.” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand.

He looked affronted. “I have never scooted in my life, nor do I intend to start now.
I want to watch you get dressed.” His eyes grew darker and his voice deepened. “There’s
no need to be shy. I’ve seen everything you have to offer, touched most of it, tasted
a bit.” His gaze slid over her once more.

She was tempted to drop her robe and hop on the bed with him, but her pounding head
would hamper the enjoyment. And he wasn’t going to leave. The more she insisted, the
more entrenched he’d become.
Stubborn
. Yes, he could be a jerk, but this afternoon, he’d held her and consoled her. Trevor
Blake was infuriating and impossible to figure out.

His eyes met hers and he smiled. A slow, sexually charged smile. He was remembering
last night, she could tell. She hadn’t been able to think about much else either.

When he stared at her with that heated gaze, she felt completely naked and exposed.
Her nipples pebbled against the slinky robe.

To cover her reaction, she stalked over to the dresser and plucked out a bra and a
matching pair of panties. “You love to hear yourself talk, don’t you?”

“Yes, I fascinate myself.”

“Well, that makes one of us.” She swung back around to face him.

“I said I want to watch you dress, Miss Campbell. Every whim, remember?”

She glared at him as she walked to the closet. “Tough. I’ve got a headache and I’m
not in the mood.”

A frown marred the line of his mouth. “Would you like to skip dinner and rest? I could
have Frances send up a tray.”

She was a little touched by his thoughtfulness. “No, I’ll be okay.”

“All right, but if you don’t move it along, the terrible twosome might decide to join
us in here.”

She grabbed a dress and walked back into the en suite, leaving the door open. “What
is the deal with you and your parents, anyway? What did they do that was so terrible?”

She shimmied into her dress and put on a little makeup. When she was done, she walked
into the bedroom. “Well?”

Trevor stood and grabbed his jacket, pushing his arms through the sleeves. “Are you
going to dinner barefoot? How bohemian.”

“Fine.” She pulled a pair of black heels from the closet. “Don’t tell me.”

***

When she slipped on her shoes, her dress rode up over the backs of her bare thighs.
It was bloody difficult to keep his hands to himself. If he hadn’t been such an ass
last night, he would have had another taste of her. He remembered how soft her legs
were. How long and lean. He wanted to be on top of her next time, with those thighs
wrapped around him, his cock deep inside her. She’d been so very ready for him last
night, tight and wet.

Good God. He was turning into a right wanker. Damn near every waking thought was centered
on Allison and how to get her naked.

Then she walked into his office and did it for him.

When she had hung up his phone, he’d been in the middle of discussing expansion plans
with a small bakery. It wasn’t a terribly important call, even though he’d told her
it was. But business trumped everything else. Even Allison.

Until he realized she was drunk.

And then she started taking off her clothes, one horrible uniformed piece at a time,
all the way down to the sheer bra and knickers. Her breasts were truly stunning, a
goddamned work of art.

If she hadn’t been drunk… But she had been drunk. Then she started crying. Tears undid
him every time. Allison’s tears had gutted him.

But he’d told her from the beginning he wanted all of her attention. She hadn’t listened.
He’d kept his end of the bargain, paying off her debts, letting her keep the house.
Was it so wrong that he expected something in return?

Perhaps he really was the asshole she accused him of being. He’d gotten her fired,
after all. It took a two-minute phone call to the casino owner. Two minutes, and he’d
altered her life. Again. But he wanted her here, not stuck in that hellhole, miles
off the Strip. When she’d looked at him with those accusing blue eyes, he actually
felt a little guilty. He rubbed his chest as he held the bedroom door open for her
and followed her to the top of the stairs.

He was doing her a favor, really. She needed money. He had money. Wasn’t living here,
taking tea with him, sunning herself by the pool much more pleasant than wearing the
green waistcoat and dealing with tourists? Of course it was. She was just being stubborn.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, and they descended the stairs. He savored the
feel of her body pressed against his. In her room, he’d had to restrain himself from
stripping her out of that robe and touching every single inch of beautiful, pale skin.

He led her through the hallway and she preceded him into the drawing room, where his
parents waited. But he kept hold of her hand, stroked his thumb across her palm. He
didn’t want to let go.

“There you are, children,” Nigel said, leaning on the mantel. “We were about to come
looking for you.”

That’s exactly what Trevor had been afraid of.

“Don’t worry. Mags and I know what it’s like, don’t we darling? Can’t keep your hands
off each other, eh?”

His mother looked at her ex and future husband and smiled.

Grinding his teeth, Trevor fought for patience. When the hell were these two going
to get tired of whatever game they were playing and get out of his bloody house? He
told Arnold to find out their plans, but they had been just as cagey with his butler
as they’d been with him. They insisted on blathering about a wedding that would never
take place.

Mags rose from the sofa and walked to Allie, taking her other hand and pulling her
from Trevor’s side. Like a possessive child, he wanted to yank her back. Why he had
such a stupid reaction, he didn’t know. But it made him feel out of sorts.

“I’m so glad you’re rested, dearest,” Mags said.

Trevor ignored both of his parents and moved to the bar. “What would you like to drink,
Miss Campbell?”

“Soda water, please.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to continue this afternoon’s bender? I could line up
some tequila shots for you.”

“Just soda water.”

“So, Allie, I’ve decided that you”—Mags paused for dramatic effect—“should be my chief
bridesmaid.”

“Um…what is that exactly?” Allie sat at one end of the sofa and accepted the glass
from Trevor without looking at him. “Like a maid of honor?”

Trevor perched on the armrest next to her, his leg brushing her arm. He reached out
and touched a strand of her hair, wrapping it around his finger like a spring. She
smelled of citrus and flowers, and he inhaled deeply as he gazed at the shades of
gold shining through it.

Mags touched Allie’s knee. “Exactly. Won’t it be fun? We can have a hen night.”

Allie twisted and looked up at Trevor. “Bachelorette party,” he translated.

“Oh, well, I don’t know how long I’m going to be here.”

“Nonsense, darling, Trevor is half in love with you already. I have a feeling you
might be here permanently.”

He unwound the strand of hair he’d been toying with and dropped it. “Don’t be stupid,
Mother.”

“Ow.” Allie glared at him over her shoulder and rubbed her head.

He donned a neutral expression as he sipped his scotch. “Apologies, Miss Campbell.”

“How could he not be in love with her?” Nigel asked. “Look at the girl. She’s perfectly
lovely.”

“And given half a chance, you’d fuck her sideways.” Trevor smiled coldly at Nigel.
“Yes, Father, we know. If there’s a woman in the room, you need to prove that your
cock still works. We get it.” Trevor wanted nothing more than to pick the man up and
throw him out of his house.

Nigel shot Trevor a disappointed frown. “There’s no need for that, Son. It’s all in
the past.”

Mags sat up straight. “We should go in to dinner. I’m famished.”

Allie nodded politely as Mags went on about dresses, shoes, cakes, and bouquets, but
her mind was on Trevor and his father. Despite his bland expression, Trevor had sounded
so bitter. Was he upset because his father slept with other women in general or one
woman in particular? The next time she saw Frances, Allie would pump her for information.
She had turned on The Blake Family soap opera, but started watching in the middle
of an episode and was confused by the characters and plotlines. Of course, she could
ask Trevor for details, but he’d only say something nasty and shocking, so what was
the point?

“How does that sound?” Mags asked.

Allie tried to remember what they had been talking about.

Before she could respond, Trevor spoke. “She wasn’t paying attention, Mother. If you
were the slightest bit aware of anyone other than yourself, you would have seen Allie’s
eyes glaze over ten minutes ago.”

Mags’s smile dimmed just a little. “Sorry, darling, I forgot that wedding plans are
tedious for everyone but the bride.”

“You’ve done it enough times, you should remember. Why not get married by an Elvis
impersonator and quit bothering the rest of us?” Trevor said.

Allie glanced at him. Despite his biting words, his face was perfectly pleasant.

“Sorry, Mags,” Allie said. “I do want to know all the details. My mind just wandered
for a second. Now, what are you wearing?”

“We’ll go shopping tomorrow, dearest, and pick it out. We’ll pick out your dress too.”

Oh God, not more shopping. Allie managed a smile. “Sure.”

“Allie doesn’t like shopping, Mother.”

Mags appeared confused for a second, then began to laugh. “Don’t be silly. All women
love to shop.”

The rest of the dinner passed slowly. Mags chatted away and Allie tried to appear
interested, Trevor interrupted with biting, sarcastic remarks, and Nigel remained
quiet. When it was finally over, Trevor excused himself and went to his office. Allie,
not the slightest bit tired after her drunken nap, knew she couldn’t stand any more
of Mags’s cheerful prattling and Nigel’s brooding silence.

She excused herself and, on her way to her room, stopped by the library on the second
floor and snagged a couple of books relating to Spanish daggers. She wanted to know
why all of these collectibles were so damn interesting to Trevor. Then she changed
clothes and called her dad.

“Hello?” His voice sounded anxious.

“Hey, Dad, have you heard from Monica? I called her this morning and left a message,
but I haven’t heard back.”

He sighed. “No, I thought you might be her.”

Damn that kid. “Let me know if she calls?” Allie asked.

“Yeah, same here.”

She asked to speak to Brynn and flipped through the dagger book until her sister picked
up the phone.

“Hey, Al,” Brynn whispered, “Dad’s freaking out over here.”

“He’s worried about Monica. You still don’t know Brad’s last name or who his friends
are?”

“Uh, no. I don’t hang out with stoners.”

The book dropped from Allie’s lap. “Is it just pot or something else?”

Brynn sighed. “I’m not sure, but I found a bag of pot under her mattress. Don’t tell
her, okay? She’ll kill me if she knows I was snooping.”

“I promise. But you have to let me know if you find anything else.”

“Okay.” There was a long pause. “So, are you stopping by home this week? I mean, I
know you’re busy. You don’t have to come, I was just curious.”

Although she might claim otherwise, Brynn needed her, needed the stability she provided.
“Tomorrow morning. I’ll make you breakfast.” If Trevor had any objections, too bad.
Allie had responsibilities.

“French toast?”

“You got it, Brynnie.”

After she hung up, she tried to concentrate on the book, but antique Spanish daggers,
even the kind made from Toledo steel, just couldn’t hold her attention. What if Monica
was doing something worse than sparking up? Allie had a bad feeling about this Brad
guy.

She should have kept a better eye on Monica, should have searched her room, checked
her phone.

Frustrated and restless, she grabbed her robe, threw it on, and opened her bedroom
door. Glancing out to make sure no one was loitering in the hall, she padded from
room to room, examining the
objets d’art
on display.

She stopped to look at carved salt cellars. Snuff boxes were grouped together on a
shelf in the library. The top of each held an engraved herald or crest. What was the
appeal of all these items? Trevor didn’t seem obsessed with the collections, yet he
must be. She couldn’t swing a dead cat without hitting some encased doodad.

As she drifted through the second floor, her mind turned over the situation with Monica,
but she’d come to no conclusions. If her sister chose not to answer her messages,
there wasn’t much Allie could do but worry.

She made her way to the round TV room and settled herself onto the squishy sofa, curling
her feet beneath her, and began changing channels. She wasn’t in the mood for crime
shows, news shows, or movies, but when she spotted an ugly pair of green earrings
on a shopping channel, she paused.

“Good God, you’re not thinking of buying those,” Trevor whispered in her ear.

Allie jumped and spun her head. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

He plopped on the sofa next to her, his thigh touching her leg. “How would you like
me to sneak up on you?”

“How about not sneaking at all? And I can’t buy anything. I don’t have a job anymore.”

Trevor reached over and took the remote control out of her hand, hitting the off button
and tossing it on the sofa cushion. He gazed at her out of the corner of his eye.
“What’s wrong, love?”

She untucked her legs, pulling the edges of her robe closed. “My sister’s missing.”

“Monica?”

She nodded.

He picked up the pink satin sash and rubbed it between his fingers. “Missing how?”

“Like she’s gone. Trevor, I need to be at home with my family.”

“When was she last seen? Is she really missing, or is she with the boyfriend?” He
shifted toward her, stretching his arm along the back of the sofa.

“She’s been gone for two days, no one’s heard from her, and apparently, she’s smoking
pot.”

He gasped. “Not the dreaded marijuana.”

She jerked her tie out of his grasp. “It’s not funny. My sister’s out there”—she flung
her arm wide—“doing God knows what with some punk ass guy we know nothing about. She’s
throwing her life away.”

He gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him. “I’ll find out who this Brad person
is, all right?”

Surprised at his offer to help, she nodded. “What’s this going to cost me? Nothing
with you is free.”

He swooped down and kissed her. When his tongue stroked hers, she reached up to touch
the side of his face, but he pulled away too quickly. “There, paid in full.” She ran
a finger over her lips. That brief kiss wasn’t enough. Why did she have to feel this
way about him? He was everything she didn’t want—high-handed, arrogant, snide.

He watched her reaction with hooded eyes. They stared at each other in silence until
Allie began to feel her cheeks heat up.

Comforting, funny, confident. Sexy as hell.
All right, so he had his good points.

She swallowed at the sensual allure in those smoky gray eyes. “I think you hurt your
mom’s feelings at dinner.” She didn’t really want to talk about his mother. She wanted
to lean forward and kiss him back. She wanted to stroke the prominent cheekbones,
to feel the rough stubble on his chin. But after last night’s after-sex dismissal,
she was a little hesitant to make the first move.

He plucked at her hair and, just like in the drawing room before dinner, twirled a
strand around his finger, unwound it, and twisted it again. “My mother doesn’t have
feelings, she has histrionics.”

Allie turned her head slightly to look up at him. “She was hurt, Trevor. I could see
it in her eyes.”

He shrugged. “She’ll get over it.”

She knew it was useless to discuss it with him anymore. He had an amazing way of blocking
out anything he didn’t want to hear.

Letting go of her hair, he brushed his finger lightly down her cheek.

She smiled and slapped at his hand. “That tickles.”

Trevor raised both brows. “Are you ticklish then, Miss Campbell?” His eyes twinkled,
and without warning, he struck. His fingers scurried over her ribs and stomach. He
squeezed her knee until she was twisting away from him.

Laughing, Allie tried to push him off but couldn’t. His hands seemed to be everywhere
at once. When he lightly squeezed her side, Allie couldn’t take anymore. The safe
word they had talked about suddenly popped into her head. “Uruguay.” She laughed as
she said it. With a grin, he kept tickling and she pushed at his chest. “Uruguay,
Uruguay.”

He stopped squeezing but kept his hand pinned to her waist. He was halfway on top
of her now, and her robe had parted, leaving her legs bare.

Allie froze beneath him. Her breath came in shallow gasps. Once again, his gaze snagged
hers, and she was unable to look away. She reached up and smoothed a dark lock of
hair off his forehead.

“Allison.”

***

Her white cotton T-shirt peeked between the edges of her robe. Shouldn’t be sexy,
but it was. Long, blond hair fanned out over the sofa cushion, trailing toward the
floor. She fluttered her lashes, her eyes locking with his, and she bit down on that
pouty lower lip.

“I need to fuck you again.” He was surprised at how harsh his voice sounded, but he
was on the edge here and he didn’t know how much longer he could watch her, ache for
her, and not fucking take her.

“’Kay.” It was a faint whisper.

Okay?
She was on board then?

Clamping both his hands on either side of her head, he took possession of her mouth.
He slid his tongue against hers and bit at her lip, not too hard but probably enough
to sting. Then he licked at it and nibbled, more gently this time.

During their encounters, both in the salon and in his office, he’d hardly kissed her
at all. He hadn’t realized what he’d been missing. Allison was delicious. God, he
loved the way she tasted. Sweet and hot. Loved the way her tongue met his, the way
she sucked on it. And when she moaned into his mouth, he moaned too.

She murmured in the back of her throat as she moved her legs restlessly beneath him.
Then Allie grabbed his wrists, stroked her hands along his arms, back and forth, scratching
her short nails against his skin. Even that felt brilliant.

Abruptly, she let go of his arms and clutched his shirt in her hands, pulling him
closer.

In response, Trevor fisted her soft hair, tilted her head back against the sofa pillow,
and continued to devour her. Every bit of finesse deserted him, and he was like a
randy schoolboy on his first time out. Their teeth bumped and he knew he was being
too rough. She didn’t seem to mind though. She met him kiss for searing kiss, thrust
her tongue against his, stroking it with her own.

Allie continued to clutch at his shirt as her legs tangled with his. Then she rotated
her hips, grinding on him, moving against his straining cock. Oh, fuck, that felt
good.

He wanted to touch her body, feel those breasts. In a moment. Maybe two, because right
now, he couldn’t stop kissing her, couldn’t stop sticking his tongue down her bloody
throat.

Allie wrapped one leg around his waist. Exactly what he’d been thinking about earlier.
She squeezed his waist with it, and he shifted until his cock was aligned with her
pussy. Then he moved against her, angling himself, rotating as he pressed against
her.

So
hot
.

He was on fire. The feel of her consumed him, burned him up. He couldn’t remember
wanting anything the way he wanted Allison.

Allie’s moans became more frequent, more urgent as she continued to grind against
him. He hadn’t dry humped anyone since he was fifteen. But it felt so damned wonderful,
he just kept rubbing against her, enjoyed the friction.

Keeping his mouth on hers, he let go of her head and jerked the tie of her robe loose.
Then he pulled it open and off her shoulders.

Allie broke away, tore her mouth from his, and shrugged out of the robe. “Hang on,
let me get rid of this.” As soon as her arms were free, he found the hem of her shirt
and whipped it over her head.

With his weight on his hands, he leaned away to look at her. For a long moment he
simply stared at the beauty that was Allison Campbell—that lovely face, the wide,
blue eyes, the lush mouth. Ah, those full, pink-tipped breasts. Then his mouth was
back on hers, demanding a response.

She gave him one. She sank her fingers into his hair, tightening her grasp, pulling
at it. It almost hurt. And he loved it. Loved the way his body heated at her touch.
Loved the way he fit against her. Perfectly, like they were made that way.

He clasped her thigh, smoothed his palm across her soft skin, working his hand higher
until he cupped her ass through the thin material of her shorts. He forced his mouth
off of hers. “Why are you wearing so many damned clothes? Bloody nuisance.” Then he
leaned back down and pressed his lips to hers once more.

He grasped the waistband of the shorts and pulled them down. Allie helped by lifting
her ass off the sofa and yanking on the other side. With reluctance, Trevor raised
his head and stopped kissing. “Drop your leg, darling. Shorts need to come off.” He
was all but gasping, his chest brushing her bare breasts with each exhalation. Those
gorgeous bare breasts. Dipping his head, he took one in his mouth and sucked.

“Trevor.” She pulled on his hair until he raised his head. “Why am I always the naked
one, huh?”

He smiled down at her. “Part of my master plan.”

She ran her tongue across her lips—they were dark red and swollen. She slid her calf
over his ass and down the back of his thigh, taking her time, caressing him with her
leg.