His to Keep (Beauty and the Brit)

by Terri Austin

  Iain held up one hand. “All right. Simmer down. Didn’t mean to get your hackles up. Seeing you get riled, Brynnie, is going to turn me on.”

  Brynn slammed her bottle on the counter. “For God’s sake, I can’t eat with your penis staring me in the face.” She turned and walked to the bedroom, not slowing until she stepped into Iain’s closet. Make that dressing room. Row after row of suits lined one wall. Button-down shirts in every color filled the other. One small section held business casual. Inside the brushed steel dresser, Brynn found ties, socks, and more silk boxers. She snatched a pair and looked at him, lounging in the doorway.

  Brynn tossed the boxers at him. “I don’t see any jeans or T-shirts.”

  “Don’t own any.” He pulled on the boxers and snapped the waist. “Clothes make the man and all that.”

  Brynn was finally starting to put it together. The office—it reflected a gentleman of refinement, of taste. The suits—they reflected a man who could afford the best. She reached out and brushed her hand along the sleeve of a light gray suit. The finest material. Iain put a lot of stock in his presentation, how he looked, how others perceived him.

  She glanced back at him. “I thought you don’t give a fuck what people think about you.”

  Even with his casual posture, he exuded arrogance—and was almost too handsome to be real. “I don’t. But people set a store by all that shit. Most simply look at the shiny package and rarely see past it.”

  “I see past it,” she said.

  “You think you do. But you don’t have a clue.” His voice sounded rusty.

  She understood more than he thought. Iain hadn’t grown up with money, and that’s why it was so important to him, why he worked so damned hard. The ritzy office, the antique furniture, the handmade suits—underneath it all was the boy from Manchester, trying to prove himself. Success, money, his business—it all boiled down to respect. From others and for himself. Iain was a proud man who demanded it.

  As she stared at him, Iain stared right back. His arrogant veneer was locked down tight, making him appear just as formidable as if he were wearing his three-piece suit.

  “So show me who you really are,” she said, taking one step toward him.

  Iain held her gaze for a moment more. Then he pushed off the doorjamb. “Let’s eat.”

  Chapter 14

  Iain was a heavy sleeper, always had been. But that night, with his body curved around Brynn’s, his brain wouldn’t shut off. Not just his brain, his bloody conscience. Her hand entwined with his, she slept deeply, while he lay awake and felt like the dickhead she’d accused him of being.

  Over dinner, Brynn had poked at her lasagna, keeping her eyes lowered for so long Iain had known something was on her mind.

  “What is it, love?”

  At last, she’d gazed up at him. “It’s not a big deal, and I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

  “Now I’m intrigued.”

  “My sister Allie has invited us to dinner. Sunday night. Just my sisters and their husbands.”

  This was exactly what he’d wanted—to meet Trevor Blake, present him with the downtown expansion project, and let the chips fall where they may. Goal achieved. So why did Iain feel like goddamned Judas? The inner tug-of-war must have been visible on his face, because Brynn immediately began backpedaling.

  “It’s not a big deal. We don’t have to go. I’ll tell them you had other plans.”

  Iain forced his lips into a semblance of a smile. “No.” He set his beer on the counter. “I want to meet your family. Even the highborn wankers.”

  “Really, Iain, it’s too soon. Not that I’m assuming you’ll ever want to meet them.”

  He threaded his fingers into her hair. “What time?”

  “Dinner’s at seven.”

  “Then it’s a date.”

  And now he lay here, unable to sleep, feeling like a sad arse and wishing he’d told Brynn everything from the beginning. Brynn accused him of treating people like pawns and that’s what he’d done to her. Iain was a manipulative, cunning bastard, but he wasn’t sorry that he’d forced his way into Brynn’s life. He couldn’t be, not with her here in his arms, smelling so sweet.

  God, what a fucking mess. She could never find out.

  As carefully as he could, Iain let go of Brynn’s hand, eased out of bed, and silently closed the door behind him. In an effort to get his mind off his bad behavior, he spent the next four hours in the office down the hall, working.

  At six, he crept back into the bedroom. With dawn just breaking, the room was still dark and he could barely make her out. She lay on her side, hands tucked beneath her cheek. Like an angel. He woke her by kissing that spot below her ear.

  Brynn rolled over, rubbing her eyes. “Hey. What time is it?”

  “Six.” He continued kissing his way down her neck. When he drew the sheet lower to uncover her breasts, he bent down and latched on to one. As he laved his tongue around her nipple, Brynn moaned, fisting her hands into his hair.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “This is much better than my alarm clock.”

  Iain lifted his head to smile up at her. “I should think so. Put your hands behind your head.” He methodically worked his way down her body, his tongue flicking out, tasting her skin. He was gentle with her this morning, not as demanding but still in charge. His Brynnie needed that to get off. While Iain didn’t have to call the shots, he liked doing so. Made it better for him, more intense. He liked testing his own self-control.

  When his face was level with her pussy, Brynn slightly parted her legs in invitation. “Wider.” She followed his instructions. Iain kissed her mound, then slid his tongue along her slit before licking inside of her.

  Brynn nearly sprang off the bed. “Oh, Iain. Right there. Please.” His Brynn—his quiet, shy Brynn—was telling him what she liked. He loved that.

  When Iain’s thumb grazed her clit, her hips rose off the bed. It wasn’t long before an orgasm tore through her. Her muscles became taut, rigid. He’d done this to her. Iain made her writhe and twist against his mouth in pleasure.

  “Iain. Oh God.”

  Hearing her groan his name never failed to stir him. His cock, hard and throbbing, needed its own release, but Iain continued to slide his tongue inside of her slick channel.

  After one final cry, Brynn’s body convulsed again, then went slack. As she lay panting, she peered down at him. “That was the best wakeup call I’ve ever had.”

  Iain pulled his head away from her and glanced up the length of her lovely body. “Then I’ll be sure to do it often.”

  Eyes half-closed, she wore a dreamy smile. “Promise?”

  “Promise. Grab a condom, would you, love?”

  Brynn moved her arms from behind her head and reached over to the bedside table, knocking his dice on the floor in the process. “Sorry.” She reached for them.

  “I’ll get them later.” As he crawled up her body, he dropped light kisses on her skin.

  Brynn grabbed a condom, but when she tried to hand Iain a foil packet, he rose to his knees, straddling her hips. “You do it.”

  She opened the package and gazed up at him before using two hands to roll it over his cock. “Tell me if I’m doing it wrong.” Her tight grip felt fantastic. “Is that okay?”

  Iain opened his eyes and stared down. “Better than. I’m going to take you hard now, Brynnie.”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  Iain moved over her once more, resting his weight on his elbows, and kissed her temple before gently guiding himself inside her. Once he was balls deep, he pulled out and surged forward. Iain had never been with anyone like her—so trusting, so idealistic.

  Brynn clung to his shoulders. “Harder? Please, Iain,” she asked with that soft, lovely voice.

  Iain complied. He slammed in and out of her. She was so tight, his Brynn. As he pumped his hips, he gazed down at her. The room was lighter now, giving him a view of her dark blue eyes. They’d glazed over and her cheeks were flus
hed. Bloody gorgeous.

  Iain came, burying his face against the crook of her neck. A hint of vanilla tickled his senses. Brynn held him as he thrust into her again and again, until he was spent.

  When it was over, Iain couldn’t move. He needed a minute or two to recover. Finally, he shoved himself off Brynn and onto his back. “Bloody hell, pet. Sorry I flattened you.”

  She laced her fingers with his. “I like it when you’re on top of me. I like it when you’re inside of me. I pretty much like everything you do to me, Iain Chapman.”

  “I believe we’re in agreement. Your moans provide me with constructive feedback, so that I can enhance my performance, thus maximizing your pleasure. This arrangement is mutually beneficial, giving each of us the satisfactory outcome we desire.”

  Brynn lifted her head and looked at him with something akin to awe. “You’re talking in corporate speak.”

  He grinned. “How do you feel about that?”

  “I love it. Do it again.”

  He angled toward her, leaning on his forearm. “Effective strategy.” He lowered his voice and drew out the words.

  Brynn laughed when he licked the side of her neck. “More.”

  “Active.” He kissed her chin. “Listening.”

  “Oh, baby. That’s so good.”

  Now Iain laughed too. “Developmental strategizing.”

  “You read my manual,” she accused.

  “Maybe.” He gave her cheek one last peck before he climbed off the bed, walked into the bathroom, and threw away the condom.

  Brynn followed him and snuggled into his robe. “You did. You read my manual.” She remained silent until he turned to face her.

  “I may have glanced at it.” In truth, he’d skimmed through all of it.

  “You probably thought it was boring, useless.”

  Not completely. She made a few good points. Could have written it in plain English and it would have been half as long, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. Sensitive, she was. “I liked that bit about respecting the people you work with. You were right—I need to do more of that.”

  She canted her head and stared up at him. “You don’t believe that.”

  He grabbed her fingers. “I’m trying, love.” He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

  “Could you call your concierge?” she asked against his chest. “I need a taxi.”

  “We’re going to the same office. I’ll grab a quick shower and shave, then we’ll run by your house.”

  “I left my car at my office.”

  “I’ll have my driver take you to work after our meeting.” He planted one last kiss on the top of her head and let her go, but patted her ass before strolling toward the shower. He glanced over his shoulder. “Want to join me?”

  * * *

  Brynn shook her head. “I’ll go make some coffee.” He’d already wrung a loud, strong orgasm out of her. Brynn didn’t want to be selfish. Or late.

  Iain walked into the stall. “Okay. I’ll be out in a few.”

  Brynn spun and raced for the kitchen. She didn’t trust herself to be that close to Iain. Naked. Water flowing down his perfect body. Nope. She just didn’t have the willpower not to jump him.

  In the kitchen, Brynn made a strong pot of coffee and went hunting for her clothes (still on the kitchen floor, but kicked to one corner) while it brewed. Once she was dressed and had poured them each a cup, Brynn walked barefoot through the apartment. She had a hard time picturing Iain there. Did he ever relax in the small sitting area, with its blocky chairs and shaggy, white throw rug? Or lounge on the stiff, gray sofa, watching a soccer game? Doubtful. Iain’s work was his life.

  Brynn could relate to a certain extent. She worked too many hours. But her home was her oasis. Brynn loved being in her all-pink kitchen, trying new recipes. She took naps on her peacock-blue sofa and ate breakfast at her ’50s-style dinette. She’d only lived there about a year, but it was warm and comfortable. This… Brynn curled her lip at the sculptured side table.

  Although she had to admit, the view from the wide picture window was spectacular.

  Brynn took a sip of coffee and contemplated last night. It had been hot. This morning had been…loving. Brynn didn’t know where she fit into Iain’s life, if at all, but she was starting to really care about him. Did he feel the same way? Yes, he’d agreed to meet her family, but he hadn’t looked happy about it. When she’d mentioned it, he’d gotten the strangest look on his face.

  Before she could ponder it anymore, Iain stepped into the living room. Today he wore a black pinstripe suit with a sky-blue tie. He smelled of bergamot and shaving cream.

  “Five minutes, yeah?” He stopped to stroke her cheek before moving to the kitchen. “You’re an angel, you.” He returned with a cup in his hands. “You poured me coffee.”

  “I’d have made breakfast, but you don’t have actual food.”

  He regarded her for a moment. “I’ll make sure the fridge is stocked next time.” And when would that be? Brynn was dying to know, but she’d rather cut out her tongue than actually ask.

  After Brynn slipped on her sandals, she rinsed out her mug and set it on a paper towel to dry. The man didn’t even own a dish towel. This was like a hotel. Only less personable. Nothing said Iain Chapman lived here. Except for the dice. He hung on to them like a talisman.

  “Ready to go?” He grabbed her bag—the one filled with too many jobs that required her attention—and side by side, they made the long elevator trek to the lobby.

  Iain spent the ride from his apartment to her house on his phone. By the time they reached her home, Brynn had mentally run through her day. It was going to be a full one.

  To her surprise, Iain didn’t stay in the car, but followed her up the walkway to the front door. “You don’t have to come in.”

  “Maybe I want to watch you get ready.”

  Brynn unlocked the door and turned to him. He squinted against the morning sun. “Not a good plan.” She stepped into the house with Iain on her heels.

  “And why not?”

  “Because we’ll be late for our meeting with Marc.”

  His arm shot around her waist. “He won’t mind.”

  “I’ll mind.” As he lowered his head to kiss her, Brynn laughed and avoided him by averting her head. “Seriously. No more sex this morning.”

  He managed to nuzzle the side of her throat. “That’s no fun. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  Brynn swatted at the hand cupping her breast. “Do you remember who you’re talking to? I’m not the adventurous type.”

  “Last night you were very adventurous.”

  “Good morning, Brynn. Englishman.”

  Iain raised his head and Brynn whirled around, with his arm still clamped around her waist.

  “Tash.” Her neighbor was clad in a pink-and-black leopard-print robe. Her hair was a fright, and without false eyelashes and heavy makeup, Natasha looked much younger. “Did you spend the night?”

  “Yes. Zeke and I have huge fight.” Moose and Squirrel danced around her feet. “I let dogs out to piss. Sorry I interrupt.” Then she disappeared into the kitchen and Brynn heard the back door slide open.

  She turned and gazed up at Iain. By his narrowed eyes and compressed lips, Brynn guessed he was annoyed. This wasn’t the way she wanted to spend her morning either, but she couldn’t just ignore Natasha. “Why don’t you have a seat in the living room? I’ll talk to her and get ready. Thirty minutes tops.”

  “I’ll wait in the car. And if you’re ready in thirty minutes, I’ll eat my tie.” He pivoted and strode out of the house.

  Brynn wandered into the kitchen where she found Tash sitting at the pink table with tears in her eyes. Brynn had never seen her friend so distraught before. Angry, bitter, homesick, yes, but Tash was a tough cookie.

  Brynn pulled a chair out and sank down. “What happened?”

  “Zeke is dick. I want my mother and sister to come for visit. But he says no.”<
br />
  “Why not? You miss them like crazy.”

  Tash nodded, dislodging a few more tears. “He say if they come, they never leave. And we cannot afford plane tickets. I want to go home, Brynn. I thought coming here would be good thing, but I am unhappy. I may as well be unhappy with my own family.”

  Brynn patted her hand. “Listen, why don’t you stay here for the day? Just relax and don’t make any hasty decisions, okay?”

  “Yes. Thank you, Brynn.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ve got to get ready for work. You’ll be all right here on your own?”

  “Yes. I am fine. You go.”

  Brynn felt terrible leaving her here, but she had too much going on, especially since Cass’s company was circling the drain. Brynn rose and left Tasha sitting alone in the kitchen.

  After grabbing a hasty shower, she pulled her wet hair into a loose ponytail and threw on a long, blue dress, making it out the door in record time.

  She climbed into the backseat next to Iain and adjusted her skirt around her legs. “Hey.”

  “So what’s her sob story this time?”

  “Iain, she’s homesick. Her husband won’t let her mother and sister come for a visit. It’s sad. This was her dream, coming to America.”

  “Duping a stranger into marrying her.”

  Brynn whipped her head so fast, her ponytail went airborne. “That’s a really cruel thing to say. And it’s not true. They communicated for a year. Tash thought she knew everything about Zeke.”

  “You’re telling me it was a love match, are you?”

  “I’m not telling you anything. But your lack of compassion is disturbing. Natasha is hurting. Maybe you can look at someone who’s in pain and turn them away, but I can’t.”

  “You’re too kindhearted for your own good. By letting her pop over every time she fights with her husband, you aren’t doing her any favors. She should stay put and fix her own mess.”