Wedding His Takeover Target (9 page)

He covered her hands, pressing them to the ridge beneath his denim, groaned and then shook his head. “Not this time. I can't handle it.”

She took comfort in knowing she wasn't alone in her over-the-top response. He brushed her hands aside and quickly stripped. His body was long and lean, but corded with thick muscles. She wanted to stare, to map his contours with her fingertips, but she also wanted him on her, surrounding her, inside her. She lifted a hand to him, beckoning him. He rejoined her, pressing her into the soft blankets with his weight.

While his mouth consumed hers she palmed the muscles of his back, his buttocks, his strong thighs. He kissed and laved his way to her breasts, sucking, licking, nipping until she squirmed beneath him, impatient for more. Then he blazed a trail down her middle. Her muscles clenched in anticipation, and then he was there—his hot breath a prelude to the scalding sweep of his tongue. He found exactly the right spot instantly.
How did he do that? Pleasure quivered through her, making her whimper, causing her to bow off the sofa and toward the mouth working magic on her body.

Tension built, adding more and more pressure until she cracked like a dam and an orgasm erupted though her in wave after wave of breathtaking release. It wasn't enough. She'd waited so long for this. She needed more. Digging her fingers into his arms, she tugged him upward. He resisted, forcing one more breath-robbing climax on her before he rose above her, spread her legs and positioned himself. He paused.

Confused and gasping for air, she looked into his lust-darkened eyes. His passion was too intense. She lowered her lids. “Please, Gavin. Now.”

“Open your eyes,” he rumbled almost inaudibly.

Reluctantly, she did as he ordered. Once their gazes locked he eased into her, inch by inch, filling her, stretching her.

“You're so wet.”

Having a lover talk was a new experience, and surprisingly it increased her arousal. He felt good. So good. And then he withdrew. She pulled him back again and again, chasing another climax with each thrust and withdrawal, feeling the heaviness build low in her belly and waiting, waiting for the explosion. When it hit, it hit hard, racking her body with spasms. “That's it, baby. Squeeze me.”

She bit his shoulder to muffle her cry, and then before the aftershocks faded he groaned as he found his own release.

Gavin rested atop her, the majority of his weight braced on his forearms as she struggled to catch her breath and to still the quaking of her legs. His long, hot thighs burned against hers and his chest pressed hers with each rapid breath.

Reality slowly nudged fantasy aside. How had she and he come together so naturally when she and Russell had worked long and hard to achieve such satisfaction? Guilt settled heavily on her at the traitorous thought.

It's only because you and Russell were inexperienced kids when you first made love. You and Gavin are experienced adults.

As she mentally withdrew from him she became aware of the soft furs tickling her back, the unheated air cooling her skin, the hot, damp man still buried deep inside her and the stickiness joining them.

Stickiness?

They hadn't used a condom. Shock raced over her, quickly chased by panic. What had she done? She hadn't simply answered a biological call as planned.

She'd made a mistake of potentially disastrous proportions—one that could have lifelong repercussions. She'd risked a pregnancy—something she'd sworn she'd never, ever do again.

 

Satiation and satisfaction blended in Gavin's blood like a top-shelf cocktail. His heart pumped faster and yet his limbs felt weighted. His brain raced, searching for the next step in his plan to seduce Sabrina Taylor into marriage. But for some crazy-ass reason he was having trouble thinking about anything except the warm, soft woman beneath him, the hot, wet grip of her body and the smell of sex hanging in the air.

He ought to feel ashamed for enjoying the act as much as he had considering he was using her as a means to an end. But he didn't because she'd enjoyed it as much as he had.

She stiffened beneath him, jarring him out of Shangri-la.

“That shouldn't have happened.”

Not what a guy wanted to hear when he was still buried deep inside a woman. “With chemistry like ours it was inevitable.”

She squirmed as if trying to get free, and the slick slide of her body on his signaled his erection for an encore. “No. It wasn't. I don't do…
this
with men I barely know.”

“Good to know.” Marriage and more of
this
appealed more with each of her wiggles.

“Gavin, we didn't use a condom.”

The statement rocked him, instantly dousing the smoldering embers of desire. He never neglected to practice safe sex. “My company requires physicals on a regular basis. I'm clean. You?”

Face flushing, she pushed against his chest, her fingers digging into his pectorals until he eased off her and sat beside her on the sofa. “Of course.”

“Good.” Without the warmth of her body pressed against his, the chill of the unheated tack room—and the woman beside him—penetrated his consciousness.

She sprang to her feet, frantically scooping up clothing and clutching the wad of fabric to her spectacular chest. Her breasts might not be large, but they were perfectly formed. A handful. A mouthful. The pink tips lured him ba—

“You're ignoring the big picture. I'm not on the pill.”

Arousal once more derailed, he processed the bad news. Their union was supposed to be temporary. A baby was a long-term commitment—definitely not in the works for a rolling stone like him who didn't know how to be a good father. “The odds of you conceiving from one encounter are slim. We'll take precautions next time.”

“There won't be a next time, and any chance is too big of a chance.” She tugged on her bra, concealing the breasts he hadn't had enough of yet, then her shirt. Without the delicious distraction, he had to focus on her eyes—eyes filled with regret.

“We'll deal with that situation if it arises.”

She bent to look for her panties and he shamelessly enjoyed the view of her long legs and tight, round butt. He couldn't help reaching out and skimming his hand down her flank and savoring the satiny smoothness of her pale skin.

She jumped out of reach and spun around, shielding the dark triangle of curls between her legs with her jeans. “Stop that. And there is no ‘we.' We have no future. You're leaving Aspen. I'm not.”

Why did her words hit him like a punch in the gut? They were true. But admitting the truth could cost him everything.

She stabbed her legs into her jeans—sans panties, zipped and buttoned them. “And if any situation requires a decision it will be my decision. Not yours. I don't want anything from you.”

It would be partly his decision if he married her. “Don't expect me to walk away from a connection like ours without a fight.”

Panic widened her eyes even more. “There is no connection. It was just sex.”

“Great sex.”

She bowed her head and took a deep breath, then lifted her chin. Her eyes were hard, determined. “Look, Gavin, this was a mistake that won't be repeated.”

Yes it would. Often, if he had his way. But not in an unheated barn. As much as he liked the way her nipples tightened from the cold and pushed against her shirt, he wanted her naked and spread across his Egyptian cotton sheets, warm and willing.

He rose and stepped closer to her, enjoying her quiet gasp of surprise. “Not repeating what we just shared would be the mistake.”

Her pupils dilated, her lips parted and her cheeks flushed. He could see the hunger in her eyes and waited for her to admit he was right, but instead she shook her head and backed away. “No. Pretending this never happened would be the wisest course of action. That's what I intend to do. What we both should do.”

He couldn't allow that to happen. He caught her face in
his palm. Her body stilled and her expression turned wary. “There's no way you can forget how good we are together. I guarantee it.”

She jerked her head out of his grasp and set her jaw at a stubborn angle. “Watch me.”

S
he might have been a little overconfident in her ability to ignore Gavin, Sabrina admitted Friday afternoon.

In the eight hours since they'd made lov—had sex, she hadn't been able to get him out of her head. Thoughts of him lurked around corners of her mind, leaping out to startle her at inopportune moments. It didn't help that he was rarely out of sight, and even when he was she could hear the low baritone of his voice as he talked to Pops.

Worse, she still smelled of him—of
them
—because she couldn't sneak off to wash his scent away without making Pops question why she'd taken a second shower in the same day. And the seam of her jeans rubbed sensitive places—places that should be covered by panties, but weren't since she hadn't found hers and hadn't wanted to linger in the barn to search.

How could she have become intimate with someone she'd only known four days? Shame burned her cheeks. That wasn't
like her. Russell had been her only lover, and it had taken three months and falling head over heels in love with him for him to talk her out of her clothes. Luckily, she'd figured out the guys before him had only wanted one thing from her—copies of her parents' course exams—before she'd done more than heavy kissing and a little uncomfortable groping.

Footsteps approached—her grandfather's soft shuffle followed by Gavin's purposeful tread. Her spine snapped straight and her pulse went wacky. She wanted to run, but she wouldn't give Gavin Jarrod the satisfaction of knowing she was uncomfortable around him.

Pops preceded Gavin into the kitchen. “I'm off, girlie.”

Alarm raced through her. “Off where? What about dinner?”

“I'm eating with my poker buddies.”

“But this isn't your usual night, and I was about to grill steaks.” She couldn't care less about the steaks. She didn't want to be left alone with Gavin.

“Save mine for tomorrow. Horace is making his famous venison stew.”

“Why don't you take Gavin with you? He might enjoy meeting your poker pals.”

“I'm not about to bring a card shark to the table. He'd steal the pot, and the boys would never forgive me. Good night. Don't wait up.” Pops grabbed his coat and hat and let himself out the back door, leaving Sabrina staring after him in dismay.

Now what?

Get rid of Gavin, that's what.

She delayed facing him until she absolutely couldn't anymore, then turned. He leaned against the doorjamb, ankles and arms crossed, watching her. The wolf-like watchfulness and hunger in his eyes as his dark gaze rolled over her
thickened her tongue and made the spot between her legs tingle.

She gulped. “You're a card shark?”

He lifted one muscled shoulder. “When we're stuck on a job and the weather's not cooperating we sometimes kill the time with cards. I do okay.”

She shifted on her feet, searching for a way to rid herself of his company. “You have an evening off. Go home.”

“Not without my date.”

Her stomach swooped. Good. She was glad he had a date. She wanted him to bother some other woman and leave her alone. But that burn in her belly felt a lot like anger. How dare he romance her and then hours later turn to another woman while her scent still clung to his skin. But what had she expected? Hadn't those spoiled college boys tried the same tricks? They'd flirted with her, plied her with beer neither she nor they had been legally old enough to drink, then they'd gone back to their girlfriends when she hadn't given them what they wanted.

“I hope you have a nice time,” she forced through clenched, smiling teeth.

He moved closer, making her retreat until the counter bumped her spine. The look of intent on his face caused her legs to quiver. “We will. Grab whatever you need. Let's go.”

She blinked in confusion, then when his meaning sank in panic prickled her skin. “We? Go where?”

He parked a hand on the counter on either side of her, effectively boxing her in. “We're having dinner at my place.”

“Your place,” she parroted back and then could have kicked herself for sounding like an idiot.

“The lodge I'm using at Jarrod Ridge.”

No way. She folded her arms, intent on avoiding that trap
and forcing a few inches between them. “I am not going to your place.”

“Would you rather your grandfather come back unexpectedly and catch us in bed?”

Her chest hurt. She realized it was because she'd forgotten to breathe. She inhaled shakily, hoping the oxygen would clear up her light-headedness and slow the rush of blood through her veins. It didn't. “That's not going to happen.”

He checked his watch, giving her just enough space to dodge out of reach. “The lobster, buttered asparagus, maple-glazed carrots and German chocolate cake will be delivered in an hour.”

Her favorites. Her mouth watered like one of Pavlov's dogs'. “Pops has been talking.”

“You're his favorite subject.”

She cringed. “I'm sorry you have to endure his ramblings.”

“I'm hanging on every word because pleasing you, pleases me.”

Oh, boy.
The man personified testosterone in a turtleneck, and when he spoke in that low sexy growl she wanted to lap up everything he said like a dog in heat. Good thing she wasn't that gullible.

“Come for dinner, Sabrina. If you can resist the pull between us I'll bring you home—untouched—afterward. But if you can't…” He dragged a knuckle down the side of her neck, making her shiver. “I'll spend the rest of the night exploring every inch of you. First with my hands. Then with my mouth.”

Her knees melted. She clutched the counter for support. Shattered by the image he painted with his words, she shook her head, trying to clear it. “I'd rather have a quiet night. Alone.”

A smile of pure devilment curved his lips, and her heart
flipped like a pancake on a hot griddle. “No, you wouldn't. I can't erase the taste of you or the feel of your skin from my mind. This morning was only an appetizer. I want more, and I'd bet my truck you're fighting the same battle. You've watched me all day with the same hunger in your eyes that's chewing up my insides.”

Could her skin possibly get any hotter? Her heart beat any faster? Had she ever been more tempted to throw caution to the winds and seize what he offered? No, no and no.

And then her panic subsided as quickly as it had risen and a sense of calm settled over her. Well, a sort of calm if you discounted the tremor racking her limbs and making a cold sweat bead on her upper lip.

Why couldn't she accept his proposition? Why shouldn't she enjoy a brief, temporary affair with Gavin? He was the perfect candidate to help her work the logjam of hormones from her system. He was rich, entitled, and even arrogant—qualities she would never find attractive. He'd be leaving Aspen as soon as he fulfilled the terms of his father's will. It wasn't as if she'd fall for someone who was counting the days until he could break free. Not when she understood how all-consuming that yearning to escape could be. It overrode everything, including reason.

An affair. Seven months of sex.

Excitement rippled through her, then waned. Her last affair—with Russell—had cost her so much. Her home. Her family. Her friends. And then when she'd lost her baby and hit rock-bottom she'd had no one to turn to because Russell had been deployed overseas. But that had been years ago. She wasn't a naïve eighteen-year-old anymore. And her family, other than Pops, already acted as if she'd died.

What did she have to lose? Certainly not her heart. Not to a man like Gavin “His Family Owned Half the Valley” Jarrod.

It didn't matter that he was handsome and hellaciously good at finding her pleasure points. She couldn't—
wouldn't
—love him. Not in this lifetime.

You have no idea how to have a no-strings affair.

But she could learn. She could learn anything if it meant finding a way to hold onto the inn and easing the discomfort Gavin had created.

But her grandfather could never find out. He wouldn't approve.

“I'll get my coat.”

The flash of victory in his eyes gave her pause, but she pushed it aside. She would not let this be a mistake.

 

Sabrina wiped her damp palms on her jeans and swallowed the lump of nerves rising to block her throat. “Black Spruce Lodge,” she read on the tastefully carved wooden sign outside the building. “Are all Jarrod Ridge's lodges named after trees?”

“Yes,” Gavin said as he pulled the key card from his pocket.

From the outside the structure looked extremely rustic—like a miner's cabin with its rough cedar siding and steep shingled roof—unless you paid attention to the details. Every element of the building's design and landscaping had been intricately planned and cared for in a way that only those with a surplus of money could achieve. The windows gleamed like diamonds in the setting sun, and not even a trace of the snow that had fallen on and off during the day remained on the walk or front steps.

Gavin opened the door. “Come in.”

Said the spider to the fly.
Her legs trembled as she climbed the steps.

The only way to conquer your fears is to face them.

Russell's voice echoed in her head, startling her. She didn't
want to think about him now, didn't want to remember his overlapped-tooth smile, his bravery or anything else about him when she had another man's seed still deep in her womb and she was about to embark on something as sordid as a cheap, temporary, meaningless affair.

The urge to turn and run barreled into her chest like a runaway horse, but she gathered her flagging courage and crossed the threshold. Strangely, excitement intermingled with shame.

Gavin flicked a switch and a chandelier made from antlers and candelabra bulbs cast a cozy light over the large open space with its steep vaulted ceiling. “I'll take your coat.”

Before she could protest he stood behind her, waiting to help her remove the garment. She reluctantly shrugged it off and hugged herself, not because she was cold, but because she was totally out of her element. How did one go about a tempestuous affair anyway?

After hanging their coats in the closet he crossed the room to light the logs stacked and waiting in the massive stone fireplace, giving her an opportunity to scan her surroundings. The lodge looked more like someone's home than a temporary accommodation. Hardwood floors gleamed in every direction. One side of the rectangular room housed the kitchen and dining area, and on the other a pair of black leather sofas jutted perpendicular to the hearth. The walls on either side of the fireplace were made of glass, offering a breathtaking view of the mountains fading to a dusky pink as the sun set.

Black dominated the decor. Charcoal sketches graced the walls. She strolled closer to a rendition of an ice-covered lake and noted the artist's signature—one she recognized from her trips to the many art galleries in downtown Aspen. An original. Translation: very expensive and not even remotely within her budget.

She turned a slow circle. The black marble vases flanking
the mantel and the onyx-framed mirror hanging between them screamed money in an understated, elegant way. Ditto the knickknacks sparingly dotted along the flat surfaces. She'd seen enough of this type of art through exclusive shops' windows to know the value.

She lifted an exquisitely carved wooden bear. Nope, it wasn't nailed down, and yes, the artist's initials had been burned into the bottom. No mass-produced decor here. She set the bear back on the polished surface. What hotel could afford to risk a guest tucking even one of these objects into his bag?

The fire popped, startling her and drawing her gaze back to the man watching her in silence. Gavin's sensual expression made her shiver. Rubbing the goose bumps popping up on her arms, she glanced away and spotted a staircase. “What's in the loft?”

“An office.”

“Are you working while you're here?”

“I'm doing some consulting and preliminary work for future jobs. It's not enough to keep me busy, but it staves off insanity.”

Another surprise. She'd expected him to enjoy his year of leisure. Oh, sure, he'd claimed he needed the handyman job because he was bored without work, but she hadn't really believed him.

He crossed to a black slate-topped wet bar, pulled a bottle of white wine from the refrigerator, opened it and poured two glasses and brought one to her. “To our mutual pleasure.”

She gasped and nearly choked on her own saliva. Having him verbalize the purpose of this visit sent a jolt of adrenaline though her. He'd said he'd brought her here for dinner, but she knew better. One look at his eyes told her getting naked was on the agenda.

The chime of his rim tapping hers sounded light compared
to her dark and dangerous thoughts. She tried to focus on something besides making lo—having sex on the white fur rug in front of the fire. But she couldn't seem to shove that idea from her head now that it had burrowed into her brain.

Tonight was all about sex. Nothing more. Nothing less. Just physical pleasure with a man she didn't particularly like but one who knew how to ring her bell.

She gulped her wine and tried to work up the courage to jump him and get it over with. Not happening. She licked her lips. “You said during the carriage ride that most of your siblings were staying in lodges or hotel rooms. How can the resort afford for so many of your family members to take up guest quarters?”

The twitch of his mouth told her he'd noted her change of subject. “Our budget can handle it, but I'll move to the main house when the tourists arrive and we reach maximum occupancy. For now, I'm enjoying roughing it here.”

“Roughing it?” She snorted, touched a pewter horse statue and rolled her eyes. Three of her and Russell's old military base apartments could fit into this great room alone, and there would be even more space in what she suspected were massive bedrooms through the archway on her right. One of which she'd probably see tonight. Her abdominal muscles contracted. She took another hearty swallow of wine. “You call living in the lap of luxury
roughing it?
”