She put her hands on his chest, his body warm, firm. Without her shoes, he seemed taller, her head coming only to his shoulders, so she had to angle her neck back to meet his eyes. They glowed, those eyes, with a dark inner heat that ignited a spark inside her as well.
He inched her closer, his hands large and strong against her pliant flesh. He spread his legs so she fit in between, his feet on either side of hers, as if the two of them were moving closer and closer to another kind of dance entirely.
His head bent.
Her hands slid upward to clasp his shoulders.
His black pupils dilated with desire.
Her lips parted, breath coming in soundless gasps.
The music faded and the crowd disappeared.
His hands slid over her butt and pulled her even closer, his mouth only millimeters away.
Suddenly someone knocked into her, shoving her hard from behind. She stumbled in spite of Maddox’s grip on her, then cried out as a splash of cold liquid whooshed down her back and along her side, drenching the fabric of her gown.
A man blinked dumbly at her, two empty glasses in his hands. Whatever had been inside them was now all over her, which from the smell of it must have contained fruit and booze—whiskey specifically, if her nose was working right.
Clearly, he was hammered. So much so that she wasn’t sure if he even realized what he’d just done.
“I don’t believe it.” She threw up her hands, her stocking feet wet now too from where she’d stepped in the residual cocktail puddle. “Not again! Jesus Christ on a crutch, what are the chances?”
Maddox looked as if he couldn’t quite believe it either. He swept his eyes over her, then glared at the drunk.
The drunk gulped, looking like he might be sick.
With her luck, he would be—all over her.
Rather than wait around to see if things really could get worse, she walked away, leaving Maddox behind to sort matters out however he preferred.
Her dress clung to her skin; she could only imagine what a sight she must be. And she was miserable, wet and sticky, her pretty bridesmaid’s gown a complete mess.
Rather than take the time to let any of her family know what had happened, she went out into the yard and started toward the house.
The night was dark, trees casting shadows where small yard lanterns helped to light the way. In the driveway beyond, she saw a long black limousine waiting, streamers and old shoes tied to the back bumper, a Just Married sign affixed in the rear window.
When James and Ivy were ready to leave, they would be heading straight to the airport, where James’s private jet was fueled and waiting on the tarmac, prepared for departure.
She walked faster, knowing she needed to get changed so she could make it back in time to tell them good-bye.
The house was cool and quiet when she let herself inside the side door; everyone was still out enjoying the reception. Padding through the shadowed space, she went upstairs to her bedroom.
One of the cats, Tobias, leapt down from her bed when she came inside. She bent to pet him, his green eyes shining with clear pleasure as she stroked his long black fur.
He purred and took a moment to weave around her legs.
Then he was off, disappearing out into the hallway at a quick trot, no doubt off to find the bowl of dry food left for him and the other cats on a high spot in the mudroom where the dogs couldn’t reach.
The wet organza of her dress felt clammy now, chilly in the air-conditioned space. Reaching up, she found the first button on the back of her dress and slipped it free. She managed two more before she realized that unfastening the rest was going to be a problem. Twisting, she tried to work the cloth higher up her shoulders.
She sensed, more than heard, someone step into the room behind her.
A long shadow fell in the low lamplight and then he spoke. “Hey, you need some help with that?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Maddox leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
He had a hard-on from just watching her shimmy around in her blush dress as she struggled to find the next button. The wet, booze-stained material clung to her butt and legs in the most amazing ways, the pale color making the dress seem almost invisible.
Brie’s head whipped around at his question, her blue eyes widening slightly. “What are you doing in here? How did you even find me?”
Her arms dropped to her sides and she turned to face him.
“I followed you at a distance. I’m surprised you didn’t notice me before. Thought I’d come to make sure you’re okay.”
Shrugging away from the wall, he walked deeper into the room. He took a moment to look around, noticing the girlie green and pink decor, the long, lacy white curtains at the windows, and the big fluffy cream flokati rug laid out on the right side of the double bed with its rosebud comforter. Two tall bookcases took up most of the east-facing wall. They were crammed with old textbooks and ragged-edged paperbacks that were obviously well read. On the top shelf were trophies and ribbons that appeared to be a mix of awards for tennis and swimming wins and academic achievements. Her high school diploma hung on the far wall next to a wooden desk with an old study light on it and more books. A few stuffed animals were scattered here and there, including a Snoopy, whose worn-out neck hung at a precarious angle under his cracked leather collar.
“I’ve always wanted to get a peek inside your bedroom.” He studied the titles on some of her books. “It’s haunted my imagination for years. Though I didn’t expect to still find the room so youthfully decorated.”
“Mom keeps talking about packing up my old stuff and updating everything, but somehow she never gets around to it.” Brie crossed her arms. “Well, you’ve had the tour now, your imagination satisfied, so you can leave.”
He turned to face her. “When it comes to you, my imagination is never satisfied.” He walked a step closer. “What about your dress? It didn’t look like you were having much luck with the rest of those buttons.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll manage.”
“Right,” he said with drawn-out sarcasm. “Turn around and let me help.”
“I don’t need your—”
He closed his hands over her shoulders and gently but firmly spun her around. She stiffened as his fingers moved to the first unfastened button. “I said hold still.”
“God, you’re overbearing.”
“And you’re mouthy and temperamental.”
“I am not.”
“Yes, you are, counselor. I’m surprised you’re not regularly held in contempt of court.” He slipped another button loose.
“You are the most—”
“Most what?” He slid another small, cloth-covered button free. “Most fascinating? Most attractive? Most tempting man you’ve ever known?”
“Most annoying and infuriating man I’ve ever known. Are you finished?” She laid a hand over her loosened bodice to hold it in place.
He took a moment to let his eyes slide down the long ivory length of her bare back, exposed now to his view. Her bra was the same pale pink as her dress, a mouthwatering combination of lace and silk. She was wearing matching silk panties with a frothy band of lace at the top, and, if he wasn’t mistaken, a garter belt.
He bit his lip so he didn’t groan out loud.
“There.” His voice was husky. “All done.”
She took a step away, then turned around. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Her eyes were deeply blue even in the low light, her lips the color of roses. And she smelled just as sweet. He’d been viscerally aware of the light, floral fragrance of her skin when he’d been unfastening her dress. And earlier when they’d been dancing. Even now, if he inhaled deeply, he could pick up hints of her scent, a fragrance that was natural to her and not due to something artifici
al.
He wanted to breathe her in, up close and personal again.
“Well, I’d better get changed.” She shifted slightly, almost nervously, on her stocking feet. “Are you going back to the reception?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On how you feel about this.”
Reaching out, he pulled her to him and fit his lips to hers, muffling the faint gasp that rose in her throat.
She put her hands out, flat against his shoulders, with the clear intent of pushing him away. But even as the energy gathered in her muscles to shove, she paused, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
That brief flash of hesitation was all he needed in order to press his advantage. Angling his head, he deepened the kiss, his touch harder and more demanding. He pressed her mouth open and slid his tongue inside. But he used only the tip, dipping in a subtle tease that implored her to accept more.
To want more.
She gasped again softly and relaxed her jaw, her lips turning pliant as she opened for him, inviting him in. Her hands clutched again at his shoulders, to draw him nearer this time.
Smiling, he delved deeper into her mouth, pushing his tongue fully inside to circle around her own, entwining, enticing, seducing them both.
His hands eased inside the opening at the back of her dress. A shudder went through him at the first touch. She felt like silk and smelled like heaven.
He wanted more.
He wanted everything.
Closing his eyes, he let his fingers play, stroking the length of her spine in a slow sweep that made her arch against him. He edged her legs apart and pressed himself into the soft V she made, making no effort to conceal the heavy ache riding him.
She pulled slightly away and blinked, shaking her head a little as if she were trying to shake off a drug.
He felt drugged as well, intoxicated by her in a way no alcohol or narcotic could ever match.
Burying his lips against her throat, he kissed her there, openmouthed, drawing on her skin in a way that would surely leave marks.
He liked the idea. He wanted to mark her. He wanted to leave something behind that would claim her as his, a visible sign to warn other men away.
Needing more, he slipped his palms under the silk of her panties and cupped her naked ass. He squeezed lightly and pulled her even tighter against his stiff cock.
If it weren’t for the clothing between them, he suspected he might already have been inside her. Usually he had no trouble controlling himself, taking matters one step at a time so his partner enjoyed herself as much as he did. But with Brie, it was like tossing a match on a pool of gasoline, one spark and the whole world went boom.
Even so, he had to have more.
Now.
His hand moved lower, searching for feminine heat and softness. He found it and more, found her where she was slippery with wetness and swollen with need.
“Open your legs,” he told her, holding her securely as he nuzzled her earlobe, then gave it a nip.
She shuddered and tried to do as he asked, her thighs quivering against his fist.
Realizing that she needed some help, he did the adjusting for her, sliding his feet sideways against hers to part her thighs. The moment he did, he opened her and pressed two fingers deep.
She moaned, then moaned again when he transferred his mouth to the other side of her neck and began to suckle the tender spot just above her collarbone.
A full-body tremor went through her.
“Like that, do you?” he murmured, lapping at her damp skin.
“Yes.” The word sounded forced, as if she wanted to conceal her pleasure but couldn’t keep it hidden.
He bounced her a little on his palm, lodging his fingers even farther inside. “How about this?”
“Ah-ah-ah,” she cried, unable to even form a coherent word.
He thrust, rubbing and sliding in ways that were designed to make her go wild.
And she did, grabbing his head and forcing it up so she could ravish his mouth. Little humming sounds of desire purred from her lips. She thrust her fingers into his hair and her tongue deep into his mouth.
And then she broke, her climax shuddering through her with such force that he felt her muscles quiver around him as her tender flesh clenched inside.
He picked her up and carried her over to the bed. He laid her back, stripped off her dress, and tossed it to the floor. Next, he reached down and pulled off her panties, taking a moment to enjoy the sight of the pale triangle of nether curls that proved she was a real blonde. As for the lacy pink garter belt and sheer panty hose, he’d decided to leave them be, since they were a total turn-on.
He shucked off his shirt, popping a button on the way, then reached for his belt buckle and zipper.
“Wait,” she said.
“Wait?”
After what they’d started?
No way.
Being with her, especially in this room, where he’d once fantasized about being, was a dream come true. Stopping now would surely kill him.
He worked the buckle free.
“No. The door.” She pointed with a hand. “It’s open,” she whispered. “Shut it.”
So she wasn’t trying to toss him out. The knowledge relieved and pleased him more than he cared to admit.
Still, it was an effort making the short trip there and back, especially given the state of his raging erection.
Door closed—and locked—he came back and reached for her, curving his hands around her knees and soft thighs before gliding upward over her hips and flat stomach.
She sucked in an audible breath, then a second one, when he covered her breasts with his hands, cradling her through her bra as if to test their weight and shape. Her breasts were ample but not overly large, exactly as he liked. He squeezed her rounded flesh, then massaged the tips to straining peaks. He pinched at one, but it slipped away beneath the slippery silk.
Instead of removing her bra, he reached inside the cups and eased her breasts free. He slid the straps down so that her arms were trapped ever so gently at her sides.
“Maddox, what are we doing?” She watched him, doubt suddenly mixing with the dazed passion in her eyes.
“What we should have done a long time ago.” He laid his palms over her naked breasts and fondled her again, flicking the pink tips with his thumbs in a way that made her moan and her eyes roll back in her head.
“God, I must either be drunk or crazy,” she muttered, almost to herself.
“You aren’t. You’re just being honest for a change.”
“Is that what I’m being?”
“You want me as much as I want you. Say it.”
She shook her head, her eyes a vivid blue.
“Say it. Why are you always so stubborn?”
“If I am, it’s only with you.”
“I guess we bring out all sorts of uncharacteristic emotions in each other.”
He set a knee on the bed and lowered himself down beside her. He kissed her long and slow, pressing her mouth open to take his tongue, imitating the thrust and retreat action he planned to initiate quite soon in a far more intimate part of her body.
She tried to wrap her arms around him but couldn’t because of the bra straps. He realized that he rather liked having her at his mercy for a change.
The thought made him smile.
She made a sound of frustration and arched toward him, kissing him harder.
On a wicked laugh that trembled against both their lips, he cupped his hand behind one of her knees and slid her leg up and open. He teased his fingers through the V of curls there, making her arch again with longing.
She was wet and very ready.
He was just reaching for the condom in his pocket when a knock sounded at the door.
“Brie, are you in there?”
Both of them froze.
The doorknob rattled. “Why’s the door locked? Brie?”
It was her sister Madelyn.
He met Brie’s wide eyes, then shook his head, telling her to keep quiet.
A scowl creased her forehead, indecision written all over her passion-flushed face.
“What?” Brie called, her voice unnaturally high.
He bit back a curse, keeping silent.
“You okay? You sound funny.”
Their eyes met again. He arched a brow.
“I . . . um . . . I’m fine. Just changing. What’s up?”
“I wanted to let you know that Ivy and James are getting ready to leave. Another ten or fifteen minutes maybe, then they’re going to take off. You’d better get downstairs if you don’t want to miss them.”
Maddox shook his head.
She looked away. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll be down in a couple.”
“Okay,” Madelyn called.
Neither of them moved until they heard her sister’s footsteps fade away.
He groaned and rolled away, cursing under his breath.
Of all the colossally shitty timing, this had to be the shittiest.
Here he was, hard as a jackhammer, and now he was supposed to stop. For a minute he considered trying to convince her to pick up where they’d left off, but he could see from the look on her face that it wasn’t going to happen.
His mood suddenly black, he watched as she sat up. She wiggled her breasts back inside the silken cups of her bra, then hooked the straps up over her shoulders.
Really, it was a crime, he thought, seeing her tuck her goodies away. Like watching Christmas presents being put back inside their boxes and returned to the store.
She ran her fingers through her hair and jumped off the bed, bending over to scoop up her underwear in a way that exposed everything.
Jesus Christ. She’s trying to kill me.
He bit his lower lip, his cock throbbing in fresh complaint.
Mad About the Man Page 13
