Kitabı oku: «Fortune's Forbidden Woman», sayfa 2

She was his stepsister, for God’s sake. Not related by blood in any way, but related through the marriage of his father to her mother.

No matter how you cut it, she was forbidden fruit, and he had no business lusting after her. No business at all.

Never mind that he’d secretly been doing just that since she’d hit puberty. He was ten years too old for her, and supposed to play the part of big brother, but still he’d wanted her.

Why did she have to grow up in so many interesting places? Why couldn’t she have remained a plain and gawky child forever?

Tamping down his errant thoughts, he kicked away from the door and headed toward her. “If I have to,” he said in answer to her question.

“What are you doing, Creed?” She continued her backward shuffle, occasionally bumping into the wall or glancing behind her to make sure the path was clear. “Why are you here?”

“Do I need a reason?” he asked, never breaking eye contact.

“Yes. You do. Have you found out something about my mother? If so, tell me and then get out. Otherwise, just get out.”

They both stopped moving. One corner of his mouth lifted in a humorless half grin. Since when had she become so good at telling him off and ordering him around? It certainly was a change from the quiet, meek girl she’d been when they were kids.

“No, nothing about your mother. The private investigators are still working on it. I’m here because of what you said on the phone.”

Her expression flickered, the hard, angry glint in her eyes being replaced by wary uncertainty. He even thought he saw a touch of pink color her high cheekbones.

“I ruined you for other men?” he pressed. “Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

She flinched. A small, almost imperceptible motion, and the only sign that she was uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. But he caught it, and some part of him reveled in his ability to shake her.

“Nothing.” Her voice was low and she gave one quick, jerky shake of her head. “It doesn’t mean anything. I was tired and worried about my mom. I didn’t know what I was saying.”

Valiant effort, but he didn’t buy it.

He took another step forward. “Guess that means Brad isn’t getting any, huh? Nearly a year of sniffing around your skirts, and he gets nothing for his trouble. Poor, pathetic loser.”

Her chin went up at that, her shoulders squaring as she straightened her spine. “Look who’s talking. I may not be sleeping with Brad, he may not be ‘getting any,’ but at least he’s a gentleman. He would never barge into my house and corner me like this. He would never accuse me of being a tramp, or make me feel like one the way you did just because a boy sweet-talked me into his car when I was seventeen and then attacked me.”

It was his turn to flinch, but only on the inside. He remembered that night as though it were yesterday. Stumbling upon Maya and her current boyfriend—or at least one of the boys she’d been hanging out with quite a bit that summer, ever since the opposite sex had begun to take notice of her fine feminine form…Taking notice of the tell-tale rocking of the shiny Trans Am and the noises that were emanating from inside…and then realizing Maya’s cries weren’t of the pleasurable variety.

He remembered the fury he’d felt as he’d opened the driver’s side door and yanked the boy out by the scruff of his neck. The kid—some varsity football jock with a letterman jacket—had been lucky to get away with only a few scrapes and bruises, because Creed had sincerely considered killing the little bastard.

As it was, he’d given the jerk a beating he wouldn’t soon forget. Then he’d dragged Maya home, filling her ears with lectures and invectives the whole way.

“That’s why you won’t sleep with Brad McKenzie?” He made a scoffing sound, his mouth twisting into a wry smirk. “He must not be very persuasive. I could have you begging for it in two seconds flat.”

Any intimidation or discomfort Maya might have been feeling flew out the window at his cocky remark. Her brown eyes glittered dangerously and every muscle in her body went rigid. She’d been backed up until her calves hit the edge of the sofa, but now she took a single, confident step forward.

“Oh, really. And just how would you manage that? Twist my arm until I told you what you wanted to hear, whether it was true or not?”

Her words were like gasoline thrown on an already raging brush fire. The low-level desire humming through his system suddenly ratcheted up several notches to full, mind-numbing throttle.

He reached out, taking her by the wrist and tugging her against his chest.

“No,” he breathed. “Like this.”

And then he took her mouth with his.

Two

For a moment Maya froze, so stunned her mind went blank and her body refused to move. But Creed’s lips were firm, his body hot, his arms like steel bands where he held her tight against him.

Her eyes slid closed and her fingers curled into his shoulders, kneading like a kitten. She moaned.

How long had she dreamed of this? Of having him kiss her, hold her, want her.

Forever, that’s how long. Since she and her mother had moved into the Fortune Estate and she’d first been introduced to the brooding, much older young man who towered over and intimidated her. Even as a shy, somewhat awkward girl, she’d known her own heart, and her heart had wanted Creed Fortune.

But she’d never truly believed she could have him. Not when he took every opportunity to make it clear she was nothing but a thorn in his side. An uninvited sibling, forced upon him by an unexpected romance between his father and her mother.

Now, though…now she knew she’d been wrong. He’d done a good job of hiding it, but apparently he shared her feelings and wanted her as much as she’d always wanted him.

His kiss was sweltering, raising her temperature and causing her to break out in beads of perspiration. He worked her mouth as if she was a decadent dessert and he couldn’t get enough.

Tongues tangled, teeth nipped and clashed. She pressed herself close to his tall frame, letting her breasts brush the solid wall of his chest, the insistent bulge of his arousal nudge the space between her legs.

This was better than anything she’d ever experienced. Better than any other kiss she’d shared with any other man. Better even than all the times over the past year that she’d tried to relax enough to make love with Brad, but ended up pulling back at the last minute.

It was better, she knew, because it was Creed. And with him she wasn’t afraid, she wasn’t shy, she wasn’t self-conscious.

With him she didn’t recall his long-ago accusation that she acted like a slut, but instead remembered all the times she’d wanted him, lusted after him, dreamed about him.

And now, finally, she could have him.

Her arms tightened around his neck, her fingers playing in the ends of his short, dark brown hair. She whimpered and wiggled in his hold, striving desperately for something she couldn’t name.

He pulled away, chest heaving, breathing ragged. His blue eyes glittered as he held her gaze.

Muttering a heartfelt curse, he shook his head, then swooped in to take her mouth again.

This time he didn’t settle for just kissing. His hands clasped her waist and swung her around, manipulating her as easily as a tailor’s mannequin. Without breaking the contact of their lips and tongues, he walked her backward through the living room and hall, up the staircase and into her bedroom.

She didn’t stop to wonder how he knew his way through her house or which bedroom was hers; she was simply relieved by his focus and excellent navigational skills. And she clung to him, wrapping her legs around his waist halfway up the stairs to aid his progress.

He carried her into the room and straight to the bed, laying her on top of the covers, rumpled from where she’d thrown them off when he’d woken her with his pounding.

Her nightshirt bunched to her waist, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against the soft skin of her inner thighs. His hands sneaked over her hips and waist, beneath the hem of the shirt, pushing it higher as his fingers moved toward the swells of her breasts.

His lips caressed her chin and jawline, brushing the lobe of her ear before trailing down her throat in a series of nips and licks. When she felt a gentle pressure beneath her arms, she lifted them willingly above her head and let him pull the nightshirt off entirely.

The cool evening air blew across her naked breasts and torso, and she quickly lowered her hands to cover herself.

“Don’t.”

Creed’s fingers circled her wrists like manacles, slowly tugging her hands away to reveal her nudity to his hungry gaze.

“Don’t hide,” he said again, his voice low and strained. “I want to see you, all of you.”

He ran the side of his thumb over the tip of one breast, grinning when it puckered and swelled beneath his ministrations.

She sucked in a breath of air, her back arching into his touch. Her face felt flushed, her entire body a wriggling mass of fever-hot nerve endings, even as she fought not to let her natural tendency toward embarrassment take over.

He had her hands pinned above her head, the rest of her pinned by his weight and bulk. And the look in his eyes was that of a hungry wolf—fierce, predatory, determined.

“Lovely,” he murmured, then swooped in to lick a tight, budded nipple.

She gasped, her fingers clenching into fists above where he held her arms down. He licked the other nipple, just a quick, light swipe, before settling in with more thorough, undivided attention.

His tongue rasped like sandpaper along her sensitive nerve endings. He turned her flesh hot with his mouth, then cool with the soft hush of his breath. After creating a world of sensual devastation at one breast, he moved to the other and did it all over again.

When he lifted his head, he was grinning. “Like I said, lovely.”

His fingers loosened from her wrists, but she didn’t bother attempting to lower her arms. She didn’t have the strength, even if she’d wanted to. She simply lay there like a rag doll, depleted of energy or the will to move.

Still smiling, he skimmed the underside of her arms, the sides of her breasts, her waist, until he reached the top of her high-cut bikini panties. They were nothing special, just plain lavender cotton. But then, she hadn’t known anyone would be seeing them when she’d dressed for bed a few hours ago.

Her choice of undergarments didn’t seem to bother Creed, though. He brushed his lips around her navel and along the waistband of the panties, then slowly began to drag them off.

A flutter of self-consciousness rippled in her belly, and she had to curl her fingers into the sheets to keep from covering herself again or trying to wiggle away.

If Creed noticed her sudden bout of discomfort, he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he kept his gaze locked on the dark triangle at the apex of her thighs that he was revealing inch by agonizing inch. He pushed the panties down her legs, slipping them over her feet and letting them fall to the floor beside the bed.

A moment later he pushed to his feet and straightened, all six feet, two inches looming above her.

For a second Maya thought he meant to leave…leave her there, naked and flushed, and walk away. But then his arms lifted and his fingers began to deftly release the line of buttons at the front of his shirt.

One by one, he slipped them through their holes, and little by little his chest became exposed. The bronzed skin. The firm muscles. The light sprinkling of dark hair.

Maya’s mouth went dry and she had trouble breathing. He was so beautiful. Tall, athletic, sculpted like some sort of Greek god, or the epitome of the perfect man every woman fantasized about.

He was certainly her idea of the perfect man.

Tugging the tails of his shirt out of the waistband of his jeans, he released the last couple buttons before shrugging out of the shirt and letting it drop to the floor. He started to kick off his boots, at the same time unzipping his trousers.

He pushed everything, jeans and underwear, down his legs and off. But instead of leaving them in a pile on the floor, he withdrew a rear pocket, pulled out his wallet, then dug out a small plastic square. Dropping the clothes, he stepped intently back to the bed in all his naked glory.

He was the first man she’d ever seen completely nude, but for once, she wasn’t flushed with embarrassment. She was…awed.

Amazing didn’t quite cover it. Neither did fabulous, marvelous, or any of the other two hundred adjectives that flitted through her mind. A few of her more precocious students might say hubba-hubba, and that came close.

His shoulders were broad, his waist flat and tapering down to narrow hips, his legs long and well-muscled. But it was what hung between those legs that held her rapt attention.

Admittedly, her experience of such things was limited. Limited, ha! Verging on nonexistent, was more like it. But even so, she was familiar with the basics of the male anatomy, and in her somewhat biased opinion, Creed was a most impressive specimen.

Before she had a chance to look her fill, he was stretching out above her, covering her from head to toe. The hair on his legs and chest tickled, but she didn’t laugh. She was too distracted by the rigid length of his erection rubbing her in all the right places.

His fingers drifted over her temples, threading through her hair to hold her steady while he planted light, butterfly kisses on either side of her mouth. First one corner, then the other before he took her mouth for a slow, luxurious exploration. He made her feel like a particularly decadent sweet he wanted to take his time with and really enjoy.

While he continued to kiss her deeply, his hands traveled down her body, one pausing to toy with the tip of her breast, the other sliding lower. Past her waist, over the curve of her buttock, and down her thigh until he reached the bend of her knee.

He lifted her leg, bringing it up to hook around his hip so he could settle more fully against her. His arousal, already sheathed in the condom he’d retrieved from his wallet, prodded her feminine opening.

Cocking her hips, she opened herself even wider, doing everything she could to ease his entry. He slipped inside, just the tip, but she was already wet and ready for him. She’d been waiting for this moment all her life, and her body was primed and more than eager for him to finally claim her.

A low groan rolled up from his diaphragm as he pressed deeper. Inch by inch, he filled her, stretching her slick inner folds until she thought she could die from the sheer pleasure of it all.

Just when she figured he couldn’t go any farther, he pushed forward again. This time, instead of pleasure, a sharp, lightning flash of pain made her stiffen and bite her bottom lip to keep from crying out.

Thankfully, the discomfort passed quickly, and she was once again able to breathe. Above her, Creed held himself perfectly still, staring down at her. His brows knit in consternation.

“Are you all right?”

The words were strained, his chest heaving as he struggled to get enough air into his lungs. The muscles in his biceps quivered with the effort to hold his weight off her.

She nodded, offering a small smile to let him know she was telling the truth. A beat passed while he considered her answer, then seemed to take her at her word.

He returned his mouth to hers, kissing her softly but thoroughly while lower, he began a slow in and out motion that washed away any lingering tenderness. Instead, there was only pleasure.

It started as just a trickle, the temporary replacement of something not-so-nice with something not-so-bad. But soon enough the sensation grew, building in ever-increasing waves.

She lifted her legs to lock more tightly around his waist, urging him closer. Her hands smoothed up and down his back, the nails alternately digging in and clawing long lines across the sweat-slickened flesh.

His own fingers clasped her bottom, kneading and stroking as his thrusts picked up speed. He moved deeper, harder, faster, until she was gasping against his mouth and reaching for…she didn’t know what. She only knew she wanted it, needed it, might die without it.

Still holding her hip and buttock, Creed’s other hand slipped between them and stole into her damp folds, finding the tiny bud of desire hidden within. He rubbed the spot, first lightly, then with more pressure, making her cry out and writhe beneath him.

“Come with me,” he whispered raggedly. The rough line of his cheek abraded hers, his lips mere inches from her ear. “Come with me now.”