by Nina Lane
“Ah, fuck, you’re so goddamned perfect.” Evan groaned, seating himself inside her with final thrust of his hips. “Like a glove.”
“Evan, do it. Please.” Hannah gripped his arms, stunned by the sensation of him throbbing inside her.
With a grunt, he pulled back, a slick glide that fired all her nerve endings. At first he fucked her slowly, letting her adjust to the size and feel of him. Then Hannah pushed upward to match his thrusts, a cry tearing from her throat as he plunged deep inside her, hitting an exquisitely tender spot.
“That’s it,” she gasped, sliding her hand down to massage her aching clit. “Right there… oh, harder…”
“Tighten around me,” he ordered, his breath stirring the hair at her temple. “I want to feel you come.”
Time folded in on itself. They rocked and thrust, the world distilling to the rasp of skin on skin, the collision of their bodies, the slap of his flesh against hers. Their mouths crashed together, open and hot. He sucked her nipples, drove his hands into her hair, gripped her ass. She raked her fingernails over his back, sank her teeth into his taut shoulder, moaned his name.
She came first, a flame bursting through her, lighting her blood. She cried out, locking herself around Evan as if he were the only solid, secure element in the world. He murmured a steady, low stream of words into her ear—ah, so good, baby… ride it out… just like that… you’re so fucking incredible—and when she was sliding down the other side, his deep groan of release echoed through her.
Panting, they rolled away from each other and onto their backs. Hannah pushed her hair back from her damp forehead. The air hung heavily over them, drenched with the smell of sex.
“Wow,” she remarked. “Why didn’t we do that sooner?”
A chuckle vibrated through him. Hannah shifted onto her side. He was lying with his arm across his face, his chest still heaving. He lowered his arm and curved it around her, pulling her against him.
His heart beat steady and strong against her ear, like a rhythmic knocking on a door. In response, her own heart softened, as if it wanted to answer.
Chapter
FOURTEEN
He woke to everything Hannah. Her sandalwood scent, her long hair sliding on his chest, her breasts pressed against his side. A loose, comfortable sensation streamed through him, a feeling of rightness as unnerving as it was welcome.
For a few minutes he lay there absorbing the feel of her before climbing out of bed. He pulled on his shorts and went into the living room. He opened all the curtains to let in the view of the sun-drenched valley.
He checked his phone, ignoring a message from Luke. Tomorrow he’d be back in the business of Sugar Rush, but until then he intended to focus on Hannah.
Room service attendants arrived, pushing a cart laden with croissants, muffins, and fruit. Evan poured a cup of coffee and returned to the bedroom where Hannah still slept.
He rested his hand on her hair, brushing the dark strands away from her face. A fierce, tender possessiveness rose in him. He tried to suppress the feeling. He was careful to keep his emotions guarded and cautious with women, but if he let her, Hannah could breach his guard. She might be the only woman in the world who could.
She shifted. Her thick eyelashes fluttered open.
“Oh, hi,” she murmured huskily, pushing to one elbow. The sheet slipped down to reveal her naked breasts, the sight of them sending a jolt of heat straight to Evan’s dick.
He held out the coffee. “Morning.”
Hannah took a sip of coffee and closed her eyes on a groan of bliss. “Oh my God. What is this?”
“French Roast, I think. Some exclusive blend.” He ran his hand over her warm, smooth shoulder to her hip.
Hannah scooted to sit up and lean against the headboard, unselfconscious in her gorgeous nudity. It was like finally surrendering to their attraction had unlocked something in her, as if she could now revel in the freedom to indulge in the time they had together.
He stroked his hand through her hair, watching the thick strands slide through his fingers.
“Cafuné,” he said.
“Is that the brand of this coffee?” She took another sip.
“It’s a Brazilian verb. It means to run your fingers through a lover’s hair.”
“Really?” Her mouth curved with a smile. “That’s lovely.”
“So are you.” He brushed his lips across hers. “Now I’m going to walk out of here before I climb back into bed and do things to your body that have no words in any language.”
“Promises, promises.” Hannah winked at him as she set her cup down and climbed out of bed, sauntering to the bathroom.
Before he followed the hypnotic sway of her ass, Evan returned to his own room to shower and dress. When he came out again, Hannah was eating at the table, picking apart a croissant with her fingers and popping strawberries into her mouth. Her green tank top revealed her smooth, tanned shoulders and arms, and her ponytail draped down her back. She was so damned sensual—everything she did, from taking photographs to sipping coffee, set his blood on fire.
She glanced at him as he stopped beside the table. “You’re spoiling me with all this food.”
He liked spoiling her. He wanted to do it more, partly because of her and partly because she didn’t seem to expect it. Most women, knowing his family business and wealth, had a set of expectations that he’d become accustomed to fulfilling. Not Hannah. Her unaffected nature intensified his desire.
“Ah.” She held up a strawberry. “Shaped like a heart.”
She arranged the strawberry on a white plate and picked up her camera to take a few pictures of it. She set her camera down and passed him the strawberry.
After eating it, Evan sat down and brushed his fingers across the tattoo decorating her upper arm. A small, colorful compass with the four cardinal directions labeled in cursive letters, the tattoo suited her perfectly. A little paper airplane hovered over the north point.
“Why a paper airplane?” he asked, reaching for the coffeepot.
Hannah glanced down at the tattoo, a faint shadow coloring her features. “My father used to make elaborate paper airplanes. When we lived at Twelve Oaks, he’d make them for all the kids there, each designed to their specifications. And when we’d work at the farmers’ market, he’d sit beside the booth folding airplanes for anyone who wanted one. So I wanted the tattoo in honor of him.”
She turned her attention back to her plate, picking the stem off a strawberry.
“You miss him,” Evan said.
She nodded. “He died when I was fourteen. I inherited my wanderlust from him. After he got together with my mother, they traveled the US in an old van… classic hippie style. They ended up at Twelve Oaks, and like most people they only intended to stay for a few weeks. Then my mother got pregnant with me, and they decided not to leave.”
Her mouth twisted. “Well, I think my mother decided that. She wasn’t as big a traveler as my father was. So I grew up at Twelve Oaks, and then Polly came along… my father always talked about wanting to take us around the world one day, but he never got the chance. Instead he became the paper airplane man.”
And when Hannah had the chance, she’d taken off to see the world. She’d probably thought about her father every day for the past ten years. Maybe she’d even blamed herself for preventing his travels.
“My father started making model boats and airplanes after my mother died,” Evan said. “I think it gave him something else to focus on besides his grief, especially after Luke took control of Sugar Rush. And when Hailey was in the hospital, my father didn’t want to leave her side, so he’d sit in her hospital room for hours working on models. Everything from pirate ships to jets.”
“Does he still build them?”
“Yeah, he turned half his office into a workshop.”
“What does he do with them?”
“Nothing. They sit on a shelf.” An odd sadness washed over Evan. He’d never before realized that his fa
ther spent so many hours working on intricate models that had no purpose except for display. At least Hannah’s father had made people happy with his paper airplanes.
Hannah sat back and lifted her arms for a stretch, the movement shaking off the sudden pall that had descended over both of them.
“So are we heading back right now or do we have more on the itinerary?” she asked. “Ramona told me she’d cover the bakery today too.”
“We can go into town for a couple of hours,” Evan said. “Check out those art galleries you wanted to see, then head back.”
A touch of uncertainty lit in her aquamarine eyes. “So what happens when we’re back?”
Tension threaded his shoulders. If it were up to him, he’d take her home and keep her in his bed, by his side, for the next six months. Or four, if the doctor had been right about the timeline for his surgery.
“Whatever you want.” He cleared his throat, forcing his voice to sound casual. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“For a few more months, neither am I.” She leaned over to press her lips against his, resting her hand on his chest right over his scar. “So until then, I’m all in too.”
His blood filled with the scent and taste of her, but she lifted her head before he could deepen the kiss.
“Was it related to your heart?” she asked. “The complex Lucy had about you.”
“Yeah.” He put his hand over hers, knowing she could feel his heartbeat increase. “She had all these ideas about how she was going to take care of me since I was sick. She wasn’t the first one to think that. Other girlfriends have wanted to be my caretaker or healer rather than my partner. They didn’t last long. I get enough overprotectiveness from my family.”
“You’re lucky to have so many people care about you, though.”
He nodded, drawing her hand to his mouth. He pressed a kiss to her palm.
“Thanks for coming here with me,” he said. “Did you get good material for your blog?”
Hannah nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing her features. “It’s funny, but I’ve never really been part of all the things I’ve written about. I watch it all from the sidelines.”
He knew a lot about being on the sidelines. “Sometimes you have to put yourself back in the game.”
Hannah pushed back her chair. “I guess that’s what we’re both doing.”
She walked back to the bedroom. Evan’s gaze skimmed over the curves of her hips. He had no intention of losing the Sugar Rush game. But it was the Lockhart game he really wanted to win.
*
The drive back to Rainsville took longer than Evan had anticipated. Hannah kept wanting to detour and take pictures of roadside oddities—a giant statue of a man crushing grapes, a robot museum, the world’s largest outdoor Monopoly board. Not only did he not mind the frequent stops, he found himself wishing for more of them. He loved Hannah’s curiosity and enthusiasm for seeking out unique attractions, her openness to whatever happened to be nearby.
He knew it would be the same no matter where she was in the world. In addition to famous monuments, she’d want to see the Ramen Museum in Japan, the megalithic stone jars in Laos, the Gnome Reserve in England. And he tried to smother the wish that he could one day go with her. It was like his childhood wish for a whole heart—useless and stupid because no matter how hard he wished, reality always kicked him in the ass.
By the time they got back to Hannah’s apartment, the sun had already sunk behind the horizon. Evan set her suitcase beside the bed and got a bottle of water from the fridge.
“I need to do a load of laundry.” She emerged from the bathroom, tying her hair into a ponytail. “Do you want to stay the night?”
Her upraised arms pushed her breasts out against the fabric of her stretchy shirt. Evan’s dick hardened at the thought of sliding his hands under her shirt and cupping those tempting globes in his palms while he pressed his mouth to hers and—
“Evan?” Hannah lowered her arms with a slight frown. “Where did you go?”
“Sorry.” He shook his head. “I was thinking about fondling your tits, maybe rubbing my cock between them.”
“Oh my God.” A flush rose to paint her skin a becoming pink. “You aren’t too tired from all that driving?”
He looked down at his hard cock outlined against his jeans. “No.”
Hannah’s gaze followed his, her breath escaping on a heated rush. “Good. Because neither am I.”
Electricity sizzled through the air. They both moved forward, their bodies and lips colliding at the same instant. Evan grabbed her hips and tumbled them both onto the bed. Within seconds, they were both naked. Time collapsed. Nothing existed except the heat of Hannah’s body, the taste of her lips, the glide of her skin against his. After they were both spent and exhausted, they fell into a sweat-drenched sleep, their limbs twined together like the vines of a plant.
He woke at dawn the next morning and dragged himself reluctantly away from a still-sleeping Hannah. He kissed her forehead before heading back to his house on the beach. He’d have to bring her there soon; instinctively he knew she’d like the beachfront bungalow with its worn furniture and deck overlooking the sand dunes. She’d find dozens of things to photograph, too.
By eight, he was at Sugar Rush headquarters, getting his head back in the game. He worked through the morning, fielding calls from both a reporter and the legal department, who’d issued proof to the media that Sugar Rush had severed contracts with the Singa Corporation years ago.
Shortly before lunch, a sharp knock on his office door announced his aunt’s arrival.
“Ah, you’re back.” Julia strode across the room, her perfectly made-up features not concealing the curiosity in her eyes. “How was your weekend?”
With Julia, a simple question was often not a simple question. Evan eyed her warily.
“Great. Thanks for asking. See you later.”
“I’m surprised you took Hannah.” Julia settled her hands on her hips. “After all, you paid for the bid. You could have taken anyone.”
“I wanted to take her.” Evan unwrapped a Sparkle Pop and narrowed his gaze on his aunt. “And don’t give me your rich maiden aunt crap about Hannah not being suitable for the second son of Lord Stone.”
In truth, he’d be surprised if that was her attitude, considering Hannah was Polly’s sister. Julia had a distinctly archaic sensibility about the women she considered right for her nephews, but Luke’s relationship with Polly had put a dent in her haughtiness.
Despite their antagonistic beginning, Julia and Polly had gotten all sorts of chummy over the past few months, a relationship that culminated in Julia taking Polly on a whirlwind shopping excursion in Paris “because that girl can make a heavenly pâte à choux, but she cannot choose her wardrobe to save her life.”
As far as Evan knew, Julia hadn’t spent much time with Hannah, but the sisterly connection should have softened her attitude.
“It’s not about her being suitable,” Julia replied. “And it’s not about me disliking her, although she’s quite a bit less charming than Polly. But Polly told me she’s only in town for a short time, so…”
Her voice trailed off. Evan didn’t have to hear the rest—why waste a fifty-thousand-dollar date package on Hannah? He’d never tell his meddling aunt it was the best money he’d ever spent.
He sat back and studied her. As always, Julia was a vision of lovely perfection with her sleek, blond hair, elegant features, and tweed Chanel suit. She’d always been part of their lives, but after their mother died, Julia had taken on the role of the Stone family matriarch with a vengeance.
And beneath her sharp tongue and fashionable beauty, her heart beat with fierce overprotectiveness and love for her nephews and niece. She was a lioness guarding her cubs, and if her frequently abrasive, over-the-top interfering was a pain in the ass, any one of the Stone brothers would defend her to the death if needed.
Not that it had ever been needed. Julia was more than capable of t
aking care of herself and those around her. Even if they didn’t want her help.
“Hannah knows about my heart,” he said. “And we both knew before I told her that we’re just having an affair.”
Julia crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. “That is precisely my point. In case you forgot, women don’t call you Heartbreaker solely because of your heart condition. And I’ve had my eye on Hannah. She’s not Polly, but she’s working hard to do right by her sister. She’s making an effort. And I do not want to see her hurt at the end of your fling.”
Huh.
Never before had Julia been worried about him hurting a woman.
“I’m not going to hurt her,” he said. “She’s leaving anyway. She probably already has plans. How could I hurt her?”
A faint sigh escaped Julia’s perfectly red lips. “You’re easy to fall in love with, Evan. And if Hannah is anything like Polly… which I suspect she is, at her core… she’ll give herself fully to a man she loves.”
“Christ.” Evan groaned and dragged his hands over his face. “Love advice from my aunt Julia. Just what I need.”
“I’m not telling you this for you, you fool,” she retorted. “I’m protecting Hannah.”
“By telling me not to have a fling with her?”
“By telling you to be careful. Even if you both made the terms of your arrangement clear, there is nothing to prevent feelings from getting involved.”
She straightened and stepped toward the door. “If you end things badly with Hannah, that could affect her relationship with Luke and possibly even Polly. Then what would happen with you and Luke? I will tolerate many things, Evan Stone, but a rift in this family is not one of them. And if you do anything to screw up my seating arrangements and plans for the holidays, I will never forgive you.”
She turned and swept out of the office, closing the door behind her. Evan resisted the urge to thunk his head on the desk. One of the things he’d always disliked about being part of a big family was how difficult it was to have anything solely to himself. Even a relationship.
He got back to work, trying not to think about what his aunt had just said. He didn’t believe Hannah would, or could, fall in love with him. But he’d also known her relationship to Polly could be problematic since their affair had an end date. And as Julia had correctly pointed out, family events and holidays always brought them all together.
