Mine Until Morning (11 page)

“So I suppose this is when you’d tell Kern everything you did, all the dirty little details.” His eyes glittered.

Oh yeah, he was pissed. She just wasn’t sure why. “Yes, this is when I told him.”

She reached for the hall light. He pulled her hand away before she flipped it on. “So tell me.” His voice was dark, dangerous, sensuous.

“You already saw.”

“You had half an hour before I walked in.” He advanced a step. “Tell me everything else you did.”

She backed up. “What’s wrong? Why are you so angry?” Without a word, he opened his jacket, pulled out Sheldon’s tin box, and set it on the hall table, either 69

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as a reminder, or to divest himself of the remnants of another man. “I’m not pissed,” he murmured.

She’d grown used to the dark and saw some inner light sparking in his eyes.

“Then what are you?” she whispered.

“So fucking turned on that I’m close to tearing your clothes off and taking you right here on the tile.”

This was what she needed. She’d loved Kern, but he’d never made her feel this way. He’d never wanted her this way. Not with such intensity. It rose off Mac like ozone off concrete. She could see it shimmer, smell it, feel it like a touch along her skin.

“Or maybe I’m just going to pick you up and fuck you in my brother’s bed.”

Yes, he was pissed, too, turning desire into a potent combination that set her blood racing through her veins. He’d been grabbing, dragging, hauling her all night—God, she’d loved it—and he did it again, hands under her armpits, lifting her high, until she was forced to wrap her legs around his waist. It was wrong. The bedroom should be off-limits. Yet when she opened her mouth to say it, he put his hand to the back of her head and took her with a fierce kiss that melted her resistance.

He had cat’s eyes in the dark, heading straight down the hall to the master bedroom. Moonlight streamed across the bed. He stopped for one long moment, his cock riding her between the thighs, eyes burning. Then he tossed her on the bed.

“I’m going to fuck you. Then I’m spending the night in that bed.” He stabbed a finger at the mattress.

That was too much, almost like a punishment. “Oh no, you’re not.” Maybe he was doing it for Kern. Because he considered her faithless.

“Fuck yes, I am.” He tossed his jacket, yanked off his tie, threw it, then literally popped the buttons on his shirt. “And you want it.”

She should have crawled off the bed and run, but the sight of his chest mesmerized her, all that muscle, the dusky nipples, the thin line of hair arrowing down to his slacks. Then it was too late. He came down on top of her, straddling her, his hands pinning her shoulders, and put his face right down in hers, his breath sweet with Kahlua.

“I’m spending the night tonight, and a helluva lot of nights after this. I told Kern I’d take care of you, and I will the only way I know how. By making you all 70

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mine in every way.”

Oh God. He wanted to control her, steal her independence.

“So don’t fight me on this, Dani.”

Her independence was the only thing she had left that was her own. She wasn’t giving it up without a fight.

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11

MOONLIGHT KISSED HER CHEEKS, AND EVERY EMOTION PLAYED across her face. His cock was hard, his lungs aching with each breath. The feel of her beneath him stoked the fire burning in his belly. He knew she would fight. As much as she wanted the sex—oh yeah, heaving bosom, tight nipples, soaked pussy; she wanted that—she’d fight against every inroad he made into her life. He put his lips to her throat and bit her. “I always win every battle. Didn’t Kern tell you that?” he whispered, taunting. He wanted the war out of the way, over and done, victor taking the spoils.

She thrust her hips, trying to shove him off, and pushed on his shoulders.

“Get off me.”

“Make me,” he muttered.

She heaved, twisted, wriggled, pummeled. Not his face, but everything else she could reach. He’d never manhandled a woman, and he didn’t now, but her efforts turned his cock to pure steel.

“If you do this, I’ll never forgive you.” She glared, an inferno in her gaze.

“Maybe you won’t.” He reached down, grabbed the bottom of her dress where it had ridden up past her hips with all her squirming, and yanked. The seams gave, the threads popping. “I’m willing to take the chance.”

“It’ll be rape,” she hissed.

He held her chin in his hand. “Will it?”

Her gaze flicked across him, from one eye to the other, and he wondered if she’d lie.

“It’ll just be fucking.” She said the word with all the distaste she could muster, but he knew she wanted it. As badly as he did. Her panties went the way of her dress, in tatters and tossed to the carpet. She wasn’t wearing a bra. He bent to a beaded nipple, sucking it into his mouth, and pinched the other hard.

She moaned, arched, her pussy riding the outline of his cock in his pants. He fucked her through the material, grinding his hips against her. Her sweet, hot scent rose around them.

He tipped her head, thumb beneath her chin. “Ready?”

“Whatever.”

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“Undo my belt.”

“Do it yourself.”

He reached between them. Her pussy was slick, sweet, hot. He circled her clit, dipped inside, back out, rubbed slowly. She shuddered beneath him, her lids falling closed, lips parting.

“Tell me you want it,” he whispered.

“I hate it.” But she gasped, rolled with his rhythm, getting wetter, hotter.

“You need it as much as I do.”

She didn’t say a word, but raised her legs to his hips, locked her ankles across his ass.

He kept it slow and sweet, taking her closer, but not giving her the ultimate, keeping her on the edge, but not pushing her over.

“Oh God” slipped from her lips.

“Undo my belt,” he said again, this time on a whisper of breath. She fumbled, finally got the job done. He backed off to let her pull the zipper, his fingers maintaining the slow, steady, mind-altering rhythm on her clit. Being naked would have been the best, but he didn’t dare leave her for the amount of time it would take. “Back pocket, there’s a condom.”

She lifted her lids and smirked. “Aren’t we prepared?”

He bent his head, his lips to hers. “You damn well know how much I want you. You’ve teased me all night. Now it’s time to pay the piper, baby.”

“You’re so full of yourself.” Then she jerked as he found a particularly sweet spot.

“You’re going to be full of me,” he muttered.

He took her lips, hot, fast, sweet, while she dug in his back pocket. Finding the package, she shoved his slacks over his hips. He pulled away long enough to roll on the condom. Coming back down, he braced on both arms and rolled his hips against her, his cock sliding in the heat and dampness of her cleft, grazing her clit.

“Now tell me you don’t want it,” he challenged. She looked at him, then drawled, “It’s just sex. I’ll take it. Because I like my orgasms however I can get them.”

She wouldn’t give an inch, not even in the heat of the moment. Mac didn’t care. Even fighting her was goddamn hot. He’d take her anyway he could have her, and he’d meant every word. He was staying. “Take me inside you.”

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She arched, opened, wrapped her fingers around him, and guided him inside, just the crown. He covered her with his body, chest to breasts, sliding half a glorious inch deeper. Burying his face in her hair, he crooned, “Say it, say it.”

He didn’t expect her to cave in. Yet she dug her nails into his butt and whispered, “Do me, Mac. Please.”

He drove home, deep inside her. She moaned, wrapping him in her arms, her legs, her heat, exactly where he wanted to be. Then there was just the sound of her breath, her cries, the scent of her skin, her sex. He lost himself in sensation, pumping harder, faster, deeper, until she gripped him on the inside, his cock, his heart. He didn’t reach release; he reached fulfillment, shattering inside her, calling out her name, taking her with him into the sweet oblivion.

SHE DIDN’T QUITE REMEMBER MAC REMOVING THE CONDOM OR

undressing or climbing into the bed to wrap her in his heat. Dani remembered only the contentment.

God, how she’d missed falling asleep with a man’s arms enveloping her. What he’d done to her had been hot, sexy, intense, with an edge. She wanted it, needed it, hated his tone, his dictatorial attitude, and succumbed because she couldn’t help herself. Sex was best when it was edgy, straddling the line between emotions, when you couldn’t decide whether you were pissed or delirious. Damn, it was good with Mac. If she wasn’t careful, she’d become addicted. When she woke again, the night was deep pitch, the crescent moon having trekked beyond the window. Without even a moment of disorientation, she knew another man’s arms held her in the bed she’d shared with her husband. Not just any man, but Mac. Her husband’s brother. Yet neither the guilt she’d expected nor the fear of losing her independence materialized. Maybe it was the darkness keeping it at bay. Maybe it was the need still trilling in her blood.

“I haven’t tasted you yet,” she whispered, despite his even breathing at her nape. He was still asleep.

She didn’t want the guilt or the morning light until she’d had that, his taste in her mouth, the musk of his come in her nose, the caress of his pubic hair against her cheeks.

She shifted as he rolled to his back, flinging an arm over his head. Pushing the sheet down, she revealed him inch by inch until she’d uncovered his cock. Her eyes adjusting to the gloom, she could just make out the proud jut of his 74

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erection. As if he were dreaming about her.

Her body hummed with last night’s intensity. He’d demanded, ordered; she’d fought and made light of him. She’d needed it, wanted him, frighteningly so, yet now, in the quiet, she wasn’t scared. Did he truly mean he intended to stay with her, or was that part of the hot game they played? It didn’t matter. Whatever came between them tomorrow, right now, there was this. His beautiful cock, her mouth.

Sliding down, she rested on an elbow and stroked a fingernail from his balls to his tip. His cock flexed, but she detected no change in his breathing. Lifting him, holding him as if he were fragile, she rubbed him against her mouth, smoothing a drop of his essence over her closed lips. He was the perfect combination of sweet and salty. Sliding down over him slowly, she savored his thickness, the pulse beating through his cock. She stopped, relaxed, took him farther. Until he groaned, the sound vibrating against her. She backed off even as he arched, his body striving for a deeper penetration of her mouth.

“Christ, what are you doing to me?” His breath, his sounds, his words filled the night.

Wrapping her hand around him, she sucked hard and fast, suctioned his crown, then caressed his balls.

“Holy hell, where’d you learn that?”

Everywhere, nowhere. She loved the male body. She loved the taste of come and the feel of a cock between her lips. No tricks of the trade; she excelled at what she loved.

Dani didn’t know how long she sucked, how long she worked him. His taste was so good, his words so sweet, the writhing of his body so perfect.

“Hell, fuck.” His fingers fisted in her hair, his body rose, fell, out of control. The first hot spurt of come filled her mouth, overwhelmed her senses, flooded her mind. She stroked, sucked, licked, soothed, caressed, until the spasms subsided and his breathing returned to normal. Then he hauled her up his body, held her so tight she thought she’d squeak. They didn’t speak. She wondered if he was as afraid to say anything as she was. Tomorrow would come and things would be said, demands made, orders refused. But for now, there was only this moment, and she wanted to hang on to it at least until dawn.

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