Takeover: The Complete Series

by Lana Grayson

  It didn’t scare me. I wanted more. More kisses, more touches.

  I parted my lips and let the one kiss draw me deeper, savoring the relief. I shivered until I trembled so deep my hands shook, captured within Nicholas’s palms. I pulled a hand free only to brush my fingers against his cheek.

  Just one touch.

  Then another.

  The line of his jaw tensed under my fingertips—smooth and perfect. I traced his cheek, the angle of his chin. Nicholas’s stillness aided my bravery. He might have been carved from marble or cast from steel, but he wasn’t hardened. Just solid and unyielding. I wished to mimic that confidence.

  I melded into his kiss, panting as our lips parted for air. I sunk deeper against him. He didn’t question or protest but offered me exactly what I needed.

  Nicholas didn’t thaw the parts of me I shielded from the world—he shattered everything I hid and denied.

  Just one touch.

  Just one kiss.

  I meant it, even as a sudden flush spread over me. For months I lived in a cold shell, denying my femininity, hiding the life inside me. Now?

  Kissing wasn’t enough.

  It had to be.

  How could I fight my own desire?

  My pulse pounded hard in my ears, and I groaned against his lips.

  “One hug,” I whispered. “A little closer?”

  Nicholas nodded, unmoving, still kneeling before me. “One hug.”

  I shifted from the couch, twisting my fingers within his. My body vibrated near him, pulsing with a raw energy. He let me pull myself into him. Our chests met, our bodies pushed together, and I rested my head against the solid strength of his shoulder.

  His arms captured me.

  Comforted.

  His sharp scent pulled me from my nightmares and guided me into the gentle fantasy of skin against skin, warmth feeding warmth, and the fullness of what had once been perfection.

  It was still perfection.

  The twisting need ached within me. I swallowed, parting my lips before returning to his. My words wavered.

  “Same kiss.”

  “As many as you need,” he promised.

  All of them? More of them? Just us, in honest imperfection.

  Confidence and passion blended into a dizzying haze. I craved more.

  The Bennetts warred to steal my body, but the true battle waged within my own heart and mind.

  I had to stop, but my core warmed with the first flicker of passion I felt since the choice had been taken from me. Stopping now would hurt more than what I endured that night.

  “Nick…” I whispered, brushing my lips against his. I welcomed the softness of his tongue against mine. “I need more.”

  “Anything.” His words deepened, silken, layered with heat. “Anything you ask, Sarah.”

  “I need…”

  “Anything.”

  “Pleasure.” It wasn’t a question or a demand. “Just one moment of pleasure.”

  “More than one.”

  It would only take one to renew me.

  I pressed my trembling body against his strength, his muscles, his presence. How could I feel whole if I didn’t experience that one fundamental gift that passed man to woman, lover to lover?

  I pulled away, taking the chance, giving what I chose to give. I lifted my shirt, casting it away. Nicholas didn’t move. His eyes feasted on my softening body, lingering over the fullness of my chest and the yet imperceptible swell from our Bumper.

  “Just one look?” His smile warmed everywhere his hands had yet to touch.

  “Just one.” My whisper wound us in secret. My fingers shook as I unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a perfect man, healthy and strong and bursting with the masculine energy I once loved. Dreaded. Needed.

  The definition of his pecs thrilled me. So did the shadowed ripple of his abs and the hollow V stretching beneath the waistband of his pants. Nicholas was the most amazing man I had ever seen.

  And he had been mine.

  Was mine.

  Could still be mine.

  I stood, looping my fingers in the soft skirt. It didn’t take courage to shed the last bit of protection from my body, only acceptance of what I felt for him. The bra tumbled next. I knew he’d recognize the changes in my body. The softness. The heaviness of my breasts.. I warmed without his touch.

  I laid his palm over my breast. His fingers caressed the silky skin. I gasped.

  “Too much?” he lifted his palm.

  “Sensitive.” I shuddered as his rough fingertips brushed my nipple. “Very sensitive.”

  “Good?”

  I hadn’t touched myself for so long, hadn’t let myself feel much beyond the towel after a shower or a tangle of sheets at my feet. I liked it. I’d missed it.

  I arched into his hand. Nicholas needed no further instruction. My tiny purr silenced as I pulled him into the kiss. His touch massaged a sudden ache, and he teased a sensitivity heightened within the past weeks. I murmured against his lips, and his fingers claimed my hardened nipple. He pinched.

  My mind exploded in sensation and need.

  All I had to do was ask and he’d give. All I had to do was whisper stop, and, he’d stop. No questions. No hesitations. He’d release me.

  And I trusted him to honor that.

  But I didn’t want him to stop.

  I pushed my neck to his mouth. The warmth of his breath cascaded in tingling excitement over my body. The sensation coursed through my blood, heating everything in its path.

  It centered low. In the one place I hadn’t acknowledged in weeks. Now I couldn’t help but tremble with every pulse, every clench. The slickness.

  His soft kisses traced over my neck, my shoulder, and slowed at the curve of my breast. He waited for permission.

  I folded my fingers within his and guided myself into pleasure.

  His lips sealed over my nipple. An instant excitement buzzed my skin. I gripped his hand as each draw of his tongue against the tender bud sizzled through me.

  He moved slowly, his fingertips hovering under the new swell of my breast. I guided him, letting him cup the exciting fullness that, so far, had been the only perk of my condition.

  That changed now.

  He rolled his tongue over my nipple, and the slow, teasing draw of his suckling drew a murmured groan from me. Each leisurely nip tightened my core and delighted me in lick and bite.

  The changes to my body frightened me, but they excited Nicholas. He teased the plumpness of my chest with trailed promises along my skin. I shivered, letting him kiss, letting myself enjoy what he did. His lips tightened over the bud, tugging it to watch as I squirmed away from the overwhelming sensation.

  “How’s that?” he whispered, switching to lap at my other breast.

  “Not enough.”

  “What can I do?”

  I knew exactly what he could do—stretch the moment of pleasure into minutes, into hours, time that belonged only to us. My voice weakened, but only because my own desire softened me beyond comprehension.

  “Just one taste.”

  The gold in his eyes flashed. The temptation stirred him more than I anticipated. But it didn’t deter me. Just the opposite. I trembled as my core clenched hard in sudden wanting. Nicholas felt the same. A hardness bulged against his pants. An invitation.

  “I won’t lie.” Nicholas hadn’t moved. “I want you, Sarah. I want to show you how much I’d cherish you. Love you. Protect you.”

  “Just one taste.”

  “For as long as you wish.”

  Even infinite pleasure wouldn’t ease the ache in me. What I wanted wasn’t his strong touch or skillful tease.

  I wanted him.

  All of Nicholas Bennett.

  And I could have it so easily if I just asked.

  He waited as I tucked my fingers in my panties. I was so used to him stripping me, him overwhelming me, him taking me. I never understood how much of a thrill it gave him to watch as my body was revealed. Goosebumps raced o
ver my curves. The cool air teased my hardened nipples, swollen from his suckling.

  The panties slipped over my hips, dragged across the paleness of my legs, and kicked off at my toes.

  Completely naked.

  Completely exposed.

  Completely vulnerable and endangered and at his will.

  And yet, he looked upon me like I was a goddess, a vision of perfection, of everything pure I once was.

  That I still was.

  “Absolutely beautiful,” he whispered. “Christ, Sarah, I missed you so much.”

  I didn’t answer or I would have screamed the truth. I missed him too.

  I missed his touch, his lips, his body, the feel of him within me as I clung to a man stronger and fiercer than any other. It was wrong of me to encourage it. I teased us both with the possibilities of us and a life and a baby, but tonight wasn’t about a lost future.

  It was about me. Fixing what was shattered.

  I rested against the couch, taking the initiative and guiding Nicholas over me.

  “Just one taste,” I said. “Just one, so I remember how it feels.”

  Nicholas leaned down to kiss me, beginning low at my toes and drawing a ticklish line up the goose bumped skin twitching under his touch.

  “One taste,” he promised. “And you’ll never forget again.”

  This was a step beyond where I thought I’d go, but it was exactly the one I needed most. Every touch, every kiss layered me in a shuddered pain that only Nicholas could ease. I came alive under his stare, and the sheer adrenaline of presenting myself was exhilarating and freeing.

  But it wasn’t surrender.

  So many times in so many ways, my body was given to Nicholas and taken as he wished. This was different. Not submission, but trust.

  His lips caressed my legs, up, up, up, until I spread for him and presented the part of me craving his attention. Nicholas leaned, kissing my thighs, my mound, and then…

  He kissed just below my navel.

  Over the baby.

  His baby. It had to be his baby.

  I trembled as I took his hand, resting his palm over the softness. He cupped me, so gently and loving, as though the rub of his hands would somehow break me.

  It didn’t.

  It wouldn’t.

  His delicate kisses lowered until the warmth of his breath along my slickening folds teased me. I arched. His tongue flicked against the swollen nub, and like an electric shock, I flinched against the powerful sensation. My body propelled forward, pressing harder against his mouth, sealing his lips over the part of me that I had forsaken.

  I didn’t know how sensitive it was.

  How it pulsed with heat and slickness.

  I shuddered, too overwhelmed to even whisper my astonishment.

  Pleasure.

  Desire.

  Passion.

  I had forgotten them all, but Nicholas guided me through every shuddering wave. He showed me how the twist of his tongue, the press of his lips, and the flicking quickness of his attention could reignite the passion inside me.

  My fingers curled into the couch. I squeezed the leather as words faded into quick gasps. My head dropped. My hips bucked.

  And everything was perfect as I pressed into the heat of Nicholas’s offered mouth. The taste became a feast, and the feast an absolutely perfect exploration of me.

  I wetted. I tensed. I clenched. I gasped breath after breath of cleansing heat. Sweat flushed my skin and prickled my sensitive body. The weight of his hand against my tummy rocked me, and the hot, flattened lick of his tongue vowed so much more.

  I hadn’t felt like this since the last time I tangled in his arms. Our bodies had melded and our defenses dropped. Everything we ever wanted existed only within each other. We were together. We made more than love.

  My hand fell to my belly, holding his palm over me.

  It had to be his baby.

  I meant for one touch. One kiss. One crest of pleasure. One night of memories to replace the nightmares. But I’d never have just one moment with Nicholas Bennett. If I let him, he’d offer me every moment, a life full of comfort, pleasures, and trust.

  And I was so close to accepting it.

  The crash of delight stunned me. I cried out his name between incomprehensible feelings and gratitude. My love for him captured with a gasp. A crushing wave silenced my thoughts and replaced them with the fuzzy, heavy agony of my body twisting itself in lust.

  But even as the weight of passion rendered me weak and useless against his lapping tongue, I needed more.

  Not a touch or a taste.

  But all of him.

  My words trembled the ache inside me, empty and wanting. He shuddered with me. Tension flexed his muscles. He might have taken me. Pinned me down. Ruined the trust as he gave into instinct.

  But Nicholas was stronger than that. He told me he admired me, but I was lost without him. He wasn’t the man who imprisoned me. He was my greatest challenge. I opposed him. I conquered him. I surrendered to him.

  I was meant for him.

  And that’s why I couldn’t stop. We had to feel each other again.

  “Just one night.” The words poured from me. I reached for him. “Just for tonight.”

  “Sarah—”

  I endured my blinding shudders and pulled him close, meeting his kiss with a furious intensity. I wanted him. Us. That closeness and intimacy, the understanding and the pleasure, the union and the invasion all blended into that moment of connection.

  I eased him to the couch. He stretched his arms over the back of the sofa. Passive. Waiting.

  This was my night to take the control I needed, explore the desire between us, and banish the last shadows clutching my heart.

  I pulled the zipper on his trousers.

  His cock pulsed within my hand. Thick. Hard. Amazingly warm to the touch.

  I gripped him, and his ragged breath proved how much he needed to be touched as well.

  Just like me.

  I didn’t let his intensity frighten me. A man as strong and powerful as Nicholas Bennett allowed me to touch, savor, and explore. He controlled his urges and respected my boundaries and fears.

  It was so easy to fall in love with this man. So easy to have my heart broken again and again.

  So easy to let him fix me.

  So hard to let him go.

  I settled over his lap. He didn’t touch me, and I was grateful. His hardness strained in my hand, and a single pump of my fist drew a groan from his self-imposed silence.

  “Just one night,” I whispered.

  “I’d prevent the sun from rising to stay with you.”

  And he could. Nicholas Bennett stretched a moment into eternity, a forever that comforted me in pleasure and need. The heat of his cock pulsed against my soft petals.

  I allowed myself one hesitant breath.

  I sunk upon him, gasping as the thickness pushed through me. Our bodies met, completely, bounded together in slick heat and tight possession.

  Full, but not invaded.

  Claimed, but not lost.

  Taken in shared passion.

  I gripped his shoulders. My shivers ground my hips harder against his. Deeper and harder, hotter and wetter. Everything within me twisted and exploded. The thrust stole my breath and captured me in a web of pleasure so silken, so inescapable, I thought of nothing but striking down again and again to fulfill that desire with pure intensity.

  This was all the comfort I needed. I caressed his chest. I welcomed the warmth of his lips against my breasts as I cradled him to me. His thickness pulsed in me, aching with the same broken tenderness that drove me down upon him.

  Just to feel him.

  “Sarah—” Nicholas’s mocha voice rumbled against my skin like another touch. “You have no idea how much I love you.”

  Yes, I did. Every inch of him inside me made a promise of love and futures we hadn’t dreamed might be ours. I leaned against him to tease my chest against his, to press my tummy agai
nst hard abs.

  The pleasure dizzied me. The possibility that someday, when the danger faded, a place saved for us and the baby. Drunk on hope and enthralled by him, a heat built inside me once more.

  Pure fantasy or a dream come true?

  Again and again, we moved together. I drove myself upon him, groaning with excitement as his cock hardened within me, twitching with thick muscle. It was hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to do anything but sink against Nicholas and be filled.

  “Nick—” My fingers dug into his shoulders.

  His voice strained. He clenched his jaw as I impaled myself with his offered pleasure. “I gotta—”

  “Just hold me.”

  And he did. He wrapped his thick arms around me, pulled me to his chest, and kissed me. A feverish, uncompromising instinct seized me, and I bound harder onto his cock to earn the grunted gratitude. His grip tightened. So did mine.

  I moaned for him to share the peak with me.

  In me.

  “Nick, come with me,” I whispered. “Please.”

  I gave him the permission though I never meant to withhold his pleasure. He did that for me, only me. To prove that his touch, his kiss, his body was meant to help me heal. I arched, crying out as I took him as deeply as I could.

  And the jetted heat felt so familiar and yet so new.

  No longer did he try to take me or claim me. What we had, what we created, was so much more than the moments we spent stealing pleasure to conquer the other.

  We loved each other. We ached for each other.

  And the pleasure rewarded our survival.

  Nicholas led me from the dark and returned me to a place of safety and warmth.

  “Do you know when I first fell in love with you?”

  Nicholas snuck behind me on the balcony.

  “When?” I whispered.

  He cradled me. He leaned, pinning me against the stone railing. I welcomed his arms, even if they weighed as heavily as the collar at my neck.

  “Our parents’ wedding.”

  “You’re such a liar.”

  “And again when you rejected the offer to sell your company.”

  “Right.”

  “And each and every day since then.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “You should.” His words caressed me, capturing me in promise and captivity. “Every day I find a new reason to love you, Sarah Atwood.”