"I won't break," she promised.
She pulled him in for a kiss so deep it silenced all the voices in his head. Even the sound of The Conversation he'd eventually have to have.
She'd come to him, she knew what she was doing and he … he couldn't fight this. He couldn't fight her sweet woman's body or her sensual, daring kisses.
She'd started round three—and he didn't have a prayer.
She dropped her head back and offered him her throat, which he covered with heated kisses in a trail down the V-neck of her sweater.
His hands glided over the feather-soft cashmere, over her shoulder, over her breast, where he paused to caress the feminine swell. Her breath caught in her throat, and he froze.
"Paige." He could feel her nipple harden. He grazed his fingertips over the bud, his mouth literally watering to suckle her. "Honey, are you sure?"
Her eyes widened and her expression shifted from one of wanton arousal to dead serious. "Matt, I won't cry," she promised quietly. "I swear I won't." She took his hand off her breast and laced her fingers through his, pulling their joined fist to her lips and pressing a kiss on his flesh. "I know what I'm doing. I want to make love to you."
His heart squeezed at the words.
He wanted to have sex. She wanted to make love.
But before he could clarify the semantics, she took his hand and guided it under her sweater. He sucked in a sharp breath as he realized she had nothing on underneath.
Had she been braless all night? During their meeting? During dinner? A blast of heat shot through him at the thought, making him rock hard. His fingers explored her tender skin, and she leaned farther back as he tugged the sweater higher and exposed her breasts.
Sex or love or whatever. He'd lost this round when he opened the door.
"Beautiful," he muttered as he looked at her. He cupped a hand under her chin and lifted her face. "You are beautiful, Paige Ashton, you know that?"
She straightened and reached down to the bottom of her sweater. In one move, she had it over her head and flung it on a chair. "You make me feel that way."
His whole being clutched in need. Wordlessly he spun her around in his arms, pulling her warm back to his chest. Wrapping her in his arms, his kissed her silky shoulders and caressed her bare breasts with hungry hands.
As he led her toward the darkened bedroom, he could almost swear he heard the final bell. "Ladies and gentlemen, the body has won. The brain is down for the count."
As they passed the bathroom, he reached into his toiletry kit that lay open on the counter. Grabbing three condoms, he continued to walk her toward the bed that had been thoughtfully turned down by the efficient Auberge staff.
Easing her onto the sheets, he traced the gentle curves of her body, delving his tongue deep into her mouth with every kiss. Leaning up to take his shirt off, he blinked, adjusting to the dim light. She studied him openly, stroking his chest as though she were memorizing every muscle, her lips parted as short, quick breaths escaped.
Then she reached up and touched his lower lip with one finger, sending a lightning bolt right down to his already painful erection. "Speaking of what's been on our minds—" she slipped her finger into his mouth and back out again "—I've been thinking about this a lot," she whispered.
"Yeah," he laughed softly. "Me, too."
"So it's your turn. What do you think about, when you think about me?"
He leaned over her and very, very softly kissed her lips. "I think about how sweet you are, how smart and funny and good at your job."
She let out a low, slow laugh of disbelief. "Yeah," she mocked him. "Me, too."
He laughed with her. "Okay. I also, occasionally, when I'm absolutely unable to stop myself, I consider … this." He bent over her breast and circled the nipple with his tongue. Slowly at first, then faster as the bud swelled and she began to moan.
"Then," he continued, as he transferred his attention to her other breast, "I amuse myself by imagining this."
Kissing a trail down her stomach, he easily unfastened her slacks and slid them over her hips, revealing surprisingly sexy black lace underwear. Man, the girl was full of surprises tonight.
When she'd kicked the slacks off, he placed his hands low on her hip bones so that his thumbs practically touched, right above the soft rise of her mound.
"And I have been known," he said in low voice, "to ponder the possibilities of doing this." He dipped his tongue into the top of the panties.
Her fingers dug into his hair as he slid the whisper of silk over her legs.
"Yep," she laughed softly. "Great minds really do think alike."
His eyes had finally adjusted to the dark, and he could see the soft damp curls between her legs, and the rapid rise and fall of her stomach with each tight breath.
"And this is a particular favorite fantasy of mine." His voice was strained with the need to taste her. He started to bend her knees, so he could explore her slick mound with his tongue, but instead she slipped her hand under his arm and pulled him up for another deep kiss. Then he unfastened his trousers and she helped him finish undressing.
Wrapping her legs around him, she reached between them, and grasped him. "I can't wait," she whispered. "Put the condom on."
As soon as he did, she arched and guided him straight into her. He gasped at the sudden heat, at the snug enclosure, and at her uncharacteristic boldness.
Although, he was beginning to discover, maybe it wasn't so uncharacteristic after all.
He rasped her name in surprise and shifted his weight on top of her, plunging deeper as she lifted her hips, shocking himself with the intense pleasure.
Their rhythm started slowly, then built like a piece of classical music. A steady, rolling melody, then a fast, anxious staccato, and finally, a crescendo. He buried his face into the sweet, damp flesh of her neck, inhaling the scent of their bodies and heat as he pumped into the tight, hot envelope of her body and fought the last of his fight.
Her nails dug into his flesh and her lashes fluttered as her control slipped away. Along with his.
Her flesh tightened around him as she arched higher and faster, every breath more strained than the one before.
He sounded just as ragged, just as far gone.
He'd lost his battle, lost his sense, lost his control. He'd lost, plain and simple.
As he plummeted over the edge and emptied everything he had into her, his brain managed one brief, coherent and completely unfamiliar thought.
Winning was overrated.
"What did you wish for?"
Matt's question, the first sound Paige heard before opening her eyes, was so soft and so low that a shiver ran over her whole body at the sensation.
For a moment she couldn't process the question. Instead she inhaled the warm aroma of his chest, where her face rested. Her legs were ribboned around his muscular thighs, a coarse dusting of male body hair tickling her flesh. His arm was locked around her, and one of his hands had found a permanent home on top of her breast.
A powerful morning erection prodded her hip, making her realize if she just swiveled an inch, he could slide right back into her. Again.
"Moot point," she murmured. "My wish came true last night."
He chuckled softly. "You wished to sleep with me?"
Lifting her head from its warm, safe haven, she opened her eyes and caught the glint in his wolf-gray gaze. "I'm not that greedy, Matt. I just wished you would kiss me."
"You did?" He seemed genuinely surprised.
"And since you kissed me a hundred times in the last six hours, I got my wish."
His hand caressed her breast, his strong, long fingers easily palming her whole rib cage. She made that one inch swivel and his velvety manhood slid between her legs.
She tilted her face toward his and they kissed again.
"One hundred and one," they said in unison, which made them both laugh.
"But you didn't say where I should kiss you." He slid his hand down her stomach, and dipped a finge
r into her. She was tender from multiple sessions of lovemaking during the night, but the fiery response was instant. Her laugh melted into a sigh of pleasure.
"I only had a penny." She rocked into him as he slid a second finger into her. "I think that kiss costs a quarter."
Laughing softly, he began a leisurely tour of her body, kissing and suckling while he stoked the fire between her legs. Oh, he was definitely a skilled musician. She started to tell him that, but his mouth had suddenly replaced his fingers and her mind went blank.
Oh, yes. Now this—this was a wish come true. Closing her eyes and stabbing her fingers through his hair, she rose to meet his lips and tongue. He drove his tongue into her, circling her sweet spot, then sucking it with a tender love bite.
As she shuddered, he increased the pressure and held her hips in an unyielding grip, torturing and teasing her until she quaked with a sweet and piercing orgasm.
"I told you to be careful what you wish for," he whispered after he'd kissed his way back up to her face.
She almost laughed, but her body was so heavy from satisfaction, the effort was too much. "You never told me what you wished for," she managed to say, turning her head on the pillow to face him with a sly smile. "Because I'll be happy to make your wishes come true as soon as I can breathe normally again."
For a moment his eyes clouded and the whisper of a frown creased his forehead. Then he lifted his head and looked toward the nightstand. "It's almost nine o'clock. Can you make a family meeting in two hours?"
Her heart sank. "Are you that anxious to get rid of me?"
After a beat, he exhaled and pulled her against him, his arousal obvious. "Does this feel like I'm anxious to get rid of you?"
She slid one leg over his hips and let the male hardness of him settle against her. "You still haven't told me what you wished for."
Surprising her, he tipped her chin up to his face and kissed her lightly on the nose. "I wished that your cousin wouldn't kill me for seducing you. And if you want to help, you'd better get home with a damn good explanation of where you've been."
She wasn't completely satisfied with that. The whole conversation had an evasive feel about it, but she buried the nagging sensation and started to slide away. "You didn't seduce me," she murmured as they separated.
He grabbed her arm and held her in place. "Paige."
"You're right. I need to get home."
His gaze lingered over her bare body, and she could have sworn he looked … torn? Mad? Scared? "I want to see you again."
"We should have a follow-up meeting next week on the—"
"Not a meeting." His grip tightened ever so slightly. "Just … more of this."
Why did her heart sink at that? She'd made it absolutely clear that she wanted sex. He made it absolutely clear that he was a red-blooded male who wanted the same thing.
Why did "more of this" disappoint her? It was great sex, no strings.
"Can you come to my house?" he asked. "Tonight? I'll make you dinner."
The implied message was as clear as if he'd said "and we can have each other for dessert."
"I don't know," she said vaguely, thrashing around in her brain for a good way to play hard to get. Which wasn't easy when you were naked in bed with a man. "Why don't I call you later and let you know how the meeting goes at home?"
"Why don't you just plan on being at my house at six o'clock and…" he grazed her thigh with his fingertip "—plan to spend the night."
Paige waited for that intelligent, rational and usually forceful voice that helped her weigh a decision. The one that kept her levelheaded and balanced. The voice of reason.
But she couldn't hear a thing. "Okay," she whispered. "I'll be there."
"Coming in the servant's entrance is the oldest trick in the book."
Paige froze at the bottom step of the back entrance and swallowed a curse. Damn. Walker was in the kitchen. She'd purposely driven around to the back of the house to slip in unnoticed and change before the meeting.
"Good morning," she called as she dashed to the back steps that would take her safely to her room upstairs. "Is everybody meeting in the library?"
Without answering, he appeared in the doorway, his piercing dark eyes holding Paige in place as effectively as if he'd reached out with one powerful arm and stopped her.
"Where the hell have you been?"
"Out," she said, lifting her chin and reminding herself that Walker was not her father or her keeper and that she was twenty-two years old and had a master's in business, for crying out loud.
"All night? With Camberlane?"
Why lie? It was a complete waste of time, and Paige didn't believe in lying, anyway. It was the single most-hated trait of her father's. "Yes. All night. With Matt." She sighed and made a feeble attempt to pass him, but all the air seemed to be sucked out of the hallway as Walker created a human wall between her and the stairs.
"Dammit, Paige, how could you be so stupid?"
Anger and frustration coiled through her but she just balled her fists and held her ground. "I don't need you to pass judgment on what's stupid, Walker."
"You are in way over your head with Matt Camberlane."
An image of their lovemaking flashed in her brain. "Thank you for your concern." She made another attempt to pass him and start up the stairs but he refused to move.
"He's a player."
"So I've heard."
"No, I'm telling you, Paige." Walker shook his head and crossed his arms like the commanding Native American he was. "He goes through women like water."
Plan on spending the night.
"I'll take my chances," she said with a calm she wasn't exactly sure she felt. "I'm having fun. We like each other. What's the crime in that, Walker?"
"Paige, listen to me." Her cousin's eyes softened, the way they always did when he delivered brotherly advice. Advice she usually wanted and heeded. "He's not ever going to get involved beyond the bedroom. Not with you or anyone."
Her chest tightened, but she refused to let Walker see any reaction. "I know that. He's been perfectly honest with me."
"Maybe he has, but—" Walker shook his head again "—honey, you're not his type. Believe me."
She sure felt like his type last night. "Hey, he bid on me, didn't he?" She tried for a lighthearted voice. "He must have seen something he liked."
"He has a soft spot, too."
Paige scowled at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"He felt sorry for you at the auction because you were so uncomfortable." At her look, he continued with a rapid offense. "I was with him, Paige. He bid on you because you were squirming under the lights."
"He paid ten thousand dollars," she said. Her voice sounded weak even to her.
Walker nodded and put a patronizing hand on her shoulder, which she wanted to shake off but suddenly didn't have the fire left in her. "He knew it was for a good cause. And you were looking miserable under those lights."
Miserable? Had she looked miserable to Matt? "Well, we're working together now and—"
"He said 'I'm not interested in her,'" Walker continued, wounding her regardless of the gentle voice he used. "That's a quote, Paige. He said, 'I'm not interested in her. I'm merely doing a good deed.'"
She could almost hear Matt say that. "A good deed," she repeated the words lamely.
Well, he'd done quite a "good deed" last night, hadn't he? And this morning. Yeah, that deed had been exceedingly good.
"And now I have to beat the you-know-what out of him," Walker added with enough of a smile to make it a joke.
"No, you don't," she said, hating the tears that filled her eyes. "He … he didn't want—" Didn't want to? Oh, he wanted to. But he didn't want Walker to know.
I wish that your cousin won't kill me for seducing you.
"He didn't seduce me."
Walker raked her with a look. "Obviously, he did."
"I initiated the encounter," she confessed boldly. "And I refuse to believe I was a ch
arity case to him, literally or figuratively."
"Paige, you're too smart to be this stupid," Walker added, sliding his arm around her in a brotherly hug.
"Yeah, well, even smart people are entitled to their mistakes," she said, shrugging him off gently. "I'm making mine with my eyes wide open."
"Paige?" He looked oddly at her. "This isn't like you."
"No," she agreed with a false smile. "It isn't."
* * *
Ten
« ^ »
Paige had to force herself to concentrate on what Detective Ryland was saying. Normally her keen analytical skills allowed her to block out everything, focus on the information in front of her, weigh it carefully and form an opinion.
But her razor-sharp mind had turned to mush.
And her body still hummed from Matt's lovemaking the night before.
And her heart? Under close observation and protection.
She took a sip of water and repositioned herself on the burgundy leather sofa where she sat between Megan and Trace.
"We're still tracking the money trail of the mysterious bank account Mr. Ashton had set up." Ryland directed his comments to Paige's mother, who perched straight-backed in a chair made for lounging.
But Lilah didn't lounge.
As the detective described the technology behind tracking the money trail for an account where, mysteriously, Spencer had deposited well over a million dollars during the past ten years, Paige studied her mother. Her deep-auburn hair curled softly under a chin that always remained tilted upward, as though the former secretary had studied the expected posture of a woman of means, then imitated it. For the most part, she kept her china-doll blue eyes trained on the detective, but occasionally glanced up at the family attorney, Stephen Cassidy, who stood protectively behind her.
In fact, she shared a good deal of message-filled glances with the man who'd supervised all of the Ashton's legal dealings for as long as Paige could remember. Lilah and Stephen seemed to communicate wordlessly.
Across the room, standing near his sister, Charlotte, and her husband, Alexandre Dupree, Walker leaned against one of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a frown deepening a crease in his handsome forehead.
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