by Jan Freed
Gasping, she moved to cover herself. Her tight lace sleeves, now bunched at the elbows, bound her as effectively as a straitjacket.
“Beautiful,” Alec breathed, before taking one sensitive peak into his mouth.
Liquid heat shot to her womb. When her legs threatened to buckle, his arm banded her waist, supporting her weight and arching her breasts at the same time. He suckled for long moments, then moved to the other breast in a nuzzling beard-rasping sweep.
Nothing in her life had prepared her for this. His dark curls against her milk white skin, the moist tugging at her nipple, the total helplessness of her position—all were incredibly erotic to her drugged senses.
With Michael, she’d had time to think. Now she could only feel. And her body clamored for more.
“Let me touch you,” she begged, wriggling her arms in an effort to free herself.
He lifted his head, a wolf interrupted from feasting. As comprehension dawned, he straightened, grabbed fistfuls of lace and shucked the dress to her toes in one powerful movement. She stepped out and kicked it away, shivering as cool air swept her heated skin.
Alec stood rooted, his smoldering stare searing a path up her silk-clad legs. His gaze faltered at the garter belt and panties, rose to her breasts and finally met her anxious eyes. Any self-doubts lingering from her experience with Michael were swept away by the unmistakable admiration in his eyes.
Heady with feminine power, she moved forward and encircled his waist, groping for the clasp of his cummerbund. The exquisite feel of her breasts against his bunched muscles made her fingers clumsy. Worrying her lip, she glanced up to see Alec’s eyes closed in an expression of mixed pleasure and pain. Elation swelled at her ability to affect this controlled man.
With a small click of release, the heavy satin dropped from her nerveless fingers to the floor. Holding her breath, she reached for the front of his pants.
Instantly her hands were smothered by his pressing palm. He held her still against his throbbing erection, obviously fighting for control.
“Wait,” he bit out, his teeth grinding in the silence.
Unable to resist, she flexed her fingers.
A deep rumbling groan was her only warning. Sweeping his hands down her spine and pulling hard, he rubbed his straining length against her until she was damp and dazed with passion. Together they sank to their knees. She clung to his shoulders like a drowning woman.
For she was drowning—buffeted by whitecaps of sensation that left her struggling for breath. She was vaguely aware of his fingers at work on her garter belt before somehow, her panties, belt and stockings pooled at her knees. He pulled away, returning devastating moments later to lower her onto her back. The feel of satin startled, then warmed her, as she realized he’d spread his coat as a makeshift blanket. She lifted her arms in surrender.
He yanked off her undergarments and covered her body, molding her from chest to toe with his heavy muscled length.
Heaven. Pure heaven.
Rising on one elbow, he smoothed a palm down the swell of her hip and over her belly, stopping just short of her pulsing need. His eyes grew heavy-lidded and dark with desire.
“I’ve dreamed about touching you, dreamed about what you’d feel like.” He lowered his mouth a fraction from hers and slid his hand downward. “What do you feel like, Laura?” he whispered against her lips, probing her curls gently.
His tongue and finger plunged at the same time, sending her back arching off the floor. He plied both hand and mouth until she broke the kiss with a restless twist of her head.
“Oh, God!” she gasped.
His finger continued its assault.
“Oh, God!” she repeated, her nails digging into his back.
He stroked and teased, relentless in his sweet torture. “I knew you’d feel like this. Hot. Wet.” His eyes squeezed shut as his breathing quickened. “And so damn tight I’m ready to explode.”
Laura reached frantically for his waistband, pausing in surprise when her fingers met bare skin. At some point he’d removed his pants. Relieved, she grabbed the wrist between their bodies and pulled his hand away, wriggling down at the same time until his velvety tip met the center of her being.
They both moaned.
“Son of a bitch, I wanted to wait,” Alec apologized, balancing on both elbows and nudging her legs wider. “I really wanted to wait, Laura.”
“For God’s sake, don’t wait,” she choked out.
And then he was filling her, stretching her, whispering words of encouragement as her body adjusted to the intrusion inch by inch. There was no pain this time. Only awed pleasure and a desire to accommodate his full length. She eyed their joined bodies with a twinge of doubt.
“That’s it, sweetheart, take me in. Oh, yes, honey, take me all in.”
The erotic endearments melted the last of her body’s resistance. She tilted her hips and felt him ease to the hilt...watched his head fall back...felt him throb deep inside her.
Laura’s own eyes closed as he began moving slowly and rhythmically, increasing his tempo with each thrust. “Oh, Alec,” she breathed in wonder at the rising tension beyond anything in her experience. Dear God, it was too fast. It was too good. It was too, too much!
She wrapped her legs around his hips in an effort to stop the unbearable intensity. But the feeling swelled like a balloon, growing larger and larger with each powerful thrust until...
“Oh, Alec!” She clutched his neck as the feeling burst over her in multiple ripples, leaving her tingling and dazed and feeling as if she were floating.
With a hoarse cry, Alec thrust home one last time and shuddered, his big body collapsing against her chest. Long moments later, she opened drowsy eyes and traced patterns on his back with her fingertips.
So this was what it was like with the right man. She felt more relaxed, more content, more free than she’d felt in four years. She wanted to absorb his pain and heal his soul. To lavish him with all the love he’d never been given. To be everything for him, as he was for her. Her eyes welled, along with her heart.
Alec stirred and rose on his elbows. Still buried deep, he studied her with a frown. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head, prying loose a teardrop. What did one say to a man after he’d given her the most sensual experience of her life? After he’d restored her feminine identity and self-confidence? “I thought I couldn’t...I’ve never felt...Michael said...”
She stopped, struggling to overcome her embarrassment and express her feelings. Words were so inadequate.
Alec’s thumb intercepted another tear and wiped it away. “Like I said before, Michael’s a blind fool,” he pronounced flatly, a tender gleam in his eye.
Happiness shimmered through her like fairy dust, spilling over into her huge smile. There was only one thing to say, after all.
“I love you, Alec.”
* * *
SOMETHING WAS POKING HIM. Alec shifted, awakening fully as a mattress spring scraped his hip. What the...?
Oh, hell.
He turned, noting the shapely lump swaddled in the sheets beside him. Laura slept on her stomach, one knee drawn up, head pillowed on slim arms. A tangle of copper brown hair fanned out from her face—a face he studied with a hammering heartbeat.
Half-moon feathery lashes couldn’t disguise the dark circles beneath her eyes. Her wide generous mouth looked swollen, the porcelain skin surrounding it irritated and red. He reached up and dragged a hand over his bristly jaw.
Oh, hell.
She slept soundly, as if exhausted. And no wonder. He’d kept her up most of the night.
After making love the first time, he’d been terrified at her tears, afraid he’d hurt her. Laura’s radiant smile and confession of love had caught him totally off guard. His body, still sheathed in hers at the time, had responded as if to a potent aphrodisiac, hardening and moving toward a second climax even more powerful than the first.
But it hadn’t been enough. Not nearly enough.
After months of stored-up sexual tension, he’d proceeded to satisfy every fantasy he’d ever entertained regarding his partner, then created some new ones. Laura’s eager response had broken the last threads of his control, and he’d been wild, unstoppable. His stomach knotted at the memory.
Sometime during the night they’d transferred to the debatable comfort of Laura’s sofa bed. As he’d spooned her against his body, his last thought before falling asleep had been how perfectly she fit.
Too perfectly, he realized now. It made the separation to come that much more painful. He glanced toward the window, resenting the horizontal strips of dawn glowing between the miniblinds. It was almost time to leave.
You didn’t hurt her, an inner voice insisted. You don’t have to leave.
Laura stirred in her sleep, exposing one creamy shoulder to his troubled gaze. Everything in him froze at the sight of four oval bruises marring the flawless skin.
Alec swallowed sickly. He’d gripped her hard enough to bruise her tender flesh and hadn’t even realized it. When she’d cried out, had it been in pain, instead of ecstasy?
He didn’t know. God help him, he didn’t know.
The room suddenly closed in on him, squeezing the air from his lungs. He had to get moving. Had to think, damn it, somewhere far from Laura’s seductive warmth.
Easing from the creaking mattress, he snatched a trail of discarded clothing from the floor and dressed in the kitchen. Spying notepad and pencil on the counter, he dashed off an excuse about needing to be home when Jason arrived, signing it simply, “Alec.” It was the best he could manage through the choking pressure in his chest.
Laura was still sleeping when he rounded the kitchen corner. He crept past the bed and slipped the note onto his vacated pillow. He hated like hell to hurt her with such an impersonal gesture. But it was better this way, he assured himself, slipping out the front door and closing it softly behind him.
The parking lot was deserted. Alec lifted an eyebrow at the Mercedes gleaming next to his Lexus. Harold was a lucky man. Brenda Lee was one terrific lady. Unlocking his door, he slid inside and struggled with pure irrational jealousy. He, too, wanted to be curled next to a warm loving partner. Next to his partner.
Snarling a curse, he slammed the door and started the engine. She was his business partner only. Wouldn’t even be that for much longer, in spite of her claim to love him. He clenched the steering wheel and stared at Laura’s apartment window.
He’d told her he had nothing to give, warned her not to make him into something he wasn’t, damn it. But her absolute trust, her generous sweet surrender, had spoken for itself.
Alec dropped his forehead against the wheel. He’d never known that kind of giving. Had never known a woman like Laura. Kind and funny, brave and strong, a worthy partner to any man.
After learning about his father, Susan had believed him capable of the worst. But not Laura. Laura had listened to his whispered confessions of a childhood spent in fear and misery—and had cried for him. Cried for him. She’d insisted he was nothing like his old man. And for a brief moment, he’d almost believed her.
In the reflection of her eyes, he’d felt good and clean and whole for one magical night. He’d lost control and glimpsed heaven. He’d tempted fate and won. But he knew what could have happened.
And the knowledge was his personal hell.
Straightening, he backed out of the parking lot and headed for the exit gate. He’d spent the past seventeen years erecting barriers around his seething emotions. Laura had slipped under his defenses in a matter of months. Her love was dangerous, to herself as much as him. He hadn’t asked for it and didn’t need it.
What he needed was a shower, a cup of coffee and a hug from Jason—not necessarily in that order.
* * *
LAURA FLIPPED the sun visor down and checked her makeup in the tiny mirror. The parking garage was dim, but not dark enough to hide the combined damages of two hours’ sleep and Houston’s vicious humidity.
Damn this heat, damn Sam for having a party on Sunday night and damn Alec for slinking out without even a kiss goodbye!
She blotted her face with a tissue and let her anger rise. If she was angry, she wouldn’t cry. And she’d been holding back tears of frustration all morning.
If ever anyone needed to be loved, it was her “unemotional” partner. So much was clear now. She ached for the little boy forced to watch his mother routinely beaten. Ached for the teenager who’d tried to protect her too late. Ached for the man terrified of becoming like his father.
Alec’s deliberate insensitivity was his way of driving her off, Laura knew. Every time she got too close to the inner man, he curled up like a porcupine protecting his tender belly. The action was reflexive. But that didn’t make the quills sting any less.
She raised the visor, remembering his wild abandon of the night before. Far from being frightened, she’d gloried in his loss of control, for it had freed the passionate soul beneath the cool facade. She longed to be the woman who set the real Alec free forever. Longed for it even more than she wanted a successful career.
The revelation stunned her. When had she changed?
In a rush of insight, several things became clear. A thriving career could enhance her life, true, but hardly fulfill it. A safe home, children, a loving relationship with a good man—these were the things women had craved since the beginning of time. It seemed she was no exception.
In retrospect, she realized her driving ambition had weakened as her self-identity strengthened. Had the motivation to prove herself in business always gone deeper than helping her father financially? Had she really been trying to validate her worth as a woman?
Maybe. One thing was certain. She owed Alec an enormous debt. Apparently she’d have to corner the man in order to thank him. With a last pat to her hair, she slid out of the car, locked the door and headed for the most important confrontation of her life.
All the way to the seventeenth floor, Laura rehearsed opening lines. By the time she entered the agency lobby, she’d memorized her favorite. One look at Brenda Lee’s face erased it instantly.
“What’s wrong?” Laura asked, her stomach clenching in preparation for bad news.
“Oh, hon...” Brenda Lee flashed her a sympathetic look and gestured to an outspread newspaper.
Had someone died? Was she reading the obituaries?
Laura walked forward, her focus on the newspaper. It appeared to be an advertisement, a double-page spread no less. She turned the paper around to face her—and froze.
Impossible. How had this happened?
Slashed across the top of both pages was the huge headline: Finally, A Hotel That Understands Women Travelers. Laura’s incredulous gaze dropped down to the Golden Door Hotels logo at the bottom of the page, then rose to scan the copy. Bold subheads highlighted amenities designed for women traveling far from the comfort and safety of home. The appeal was emotional without being patronizing, the layout clean and elegant.
She ought to know. She’d given final approval on the exact same ad for Regency Hotels the week before!
“Has Alec seen this?” she asked sharply.
Brenda Lee nodded. “Dragged Harold into his office the minute we walked in. He’s got Steve in there, too. I was supposed to send you in the minute you arrived, but I wanted to prepare you first.”
“I owe you one,” Laura said, studying the ad.
Of course it wasn’t exactly the same. The model was blond, instead of brunette. And the subheads were worded a little differently, like before she’d fine-tuned the details. Like her first draft of the ad—
That sneaky bastard!
“Good Lord, Laura, you’re white as a ghost. What is it?”
Laura lifted her head and stared, her mind recreating a scene from the past. “I know how this happened. I know who’s responsible.” She focused on Brenda Lee’s worried eyes. “Tom Marsh, my supervisor at Harris, Bates and Whitman, ripped off my ideas.�
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Delicate blond brows arched. “No offense, sugar, but are you positive? That’s a pretty strong accusation.”
Remembering how Tom had tossed her layouts in the trash like so many wads of chewed gum, Laura’s mouth thinned. “I’m sure.”
He’d obviously fished her rough sketches out of the wastebasket after she’d left. It was the only possible explanation. She recounted her rocky history with Tom to Brenda Lee. “He must have panicked after losing the Regency Hotels account, knowing he’d run dry, creatively speaking. I can’t believe he went this far, though.”
“Can’t we sue him or something?”
Brenda Lee’s outrage was comforting, but useless. “I don’t have any proof. No one else saw me submit the layouts. Tom certainly hadn’t asked for them. And after he threw them away, I was too embarrassed to tell anyone.” Except Alec.
Her awful burden lightened. Alec would take care of this nightmare. He would simply perform his usual strategic magic and force Golden Door Hotels to retract its new campaign. He’d probably mapped out a plan already. She folded the newspaper and stuffed it under her arm.
Brenda Lee reached out and caught Laura’s fingers. “You’ve thought of something, haven’t you? Is there anything I can do to help?”
Squeezing Brenda Lee’s hand once, she slipped from its grasp. “You’re a good friend. Just keep believing in me. I have a feeling I’ll need all the support I can get in the next few days.”
Brenda Lee’s thumbs-up signal got her down the hall and past the curious stares from each doorway. As she neared Alec’s office, the rumble of male voices grew louder. From the sound of things, they were not happy campers. It might be wise to stop and get her bearings on the situation.
Poised just out of sight in the hallway, she cocked her head and listened.
“I swear I never talked about the campaign outside the office,” Steve said heatedly.
“What about that little red-haired photographer you got so chummy with? Didn’t her studio do a lot of work for Golden Door Hotels?” Harold’s voice dripped with suspicion.
