by Dani Wade
“Seriously,” Mason finally continued, “he’s worried. After the accident and everything that happened, I’m worried.”
“I don’t understand why.” Kane’s words were short, clipped.
Mason wasn’t put off. “Because I know you aren’t made of stone. After she was hurt, you just shut down. But now—look, are you okay?”
Nothing. Presley couldn’t stand the pressure, the anticipation. Finally, she turned to look at the men, but Kane was walking away.
Nine
Is she trying to kill me?
Kane couldn’t miss the woman in green as he stepped into the ballroom. Instead of looking like a drab bird, she stood out from the crowd. Not just because of the color of her dress, but because of the sheer glow about her. The extra attention might have made her nervous at first, but that was rapidly changing.
He couldn’t even take the credit. Once they’d gotten over her initial reluctance, she’d taken matters into her own hands. The results were simple and stunning, as he’d suspected they would be.
One thing was for sure: she was definitely seducing him, without even trying.
And it was so much more pleasant than thinking about Emily, the specter Mason had brought to the party. She had no place here. Not anymore. Kane only needed Presley—closer, right now.
Without thought, he crossed directly to her, clasped her hand and led her to the dance floor. His own dance style was simple, so he was able to focus on her nearness, the feel of her. He could hear the fabric of her dress swish against his pant legs. He could feel the movement of her body beneath his palm. Every sense tuned in; he was desperate to soak in her essence.
If he had his way, he would experience all that was Presley Macarthur before the night was done.
As if she felt it, too, she glanced up to meet his gaze. Her eyes were wide, vulnerable, and Kane could see an answering need reflecting back at him. “How much longer until we can leave?” he mumbled.
A wine-colored blush spread across her cheeks, telling him he was right, even as she dropped her gaze and worried her lower lip with the edge of her teeth. Without thinking, he let his feet stop, drew her in close and conveyed his desire with a kiss. It felt so good to slide his hands up the back of her neck and into the thickness of her hair. The return pressure and slight parting of her lips told him she felt the same.
Surely it was time to go now...
Unfortunately he didn’t see the obstacle before there was enough time to avoid it.
“Presley, oh, my goodness!”
Marjorie stepped right into their path, blocking Kane’s progress toward the door. “Look at you. I almost didn’t recognize you properly dressed up for a change. So beautiful.”
Kane felt Presley’s automatic withdrawal, and not just because of the closed expression on her face and the step backward she took.
“And you, Kane,” Marjorie continued in an overly loud voice that made Kane want to cringe on Presley’s behalf, “aren’t you the most handsome man here? Isn’t it nice she’s finally made an effort to be worthy of being seen with you?”
What was this woman’s problem? And how could she not see the effect she was having on Presley? No wonder Presley had adopted whatever strategy she could to keep Marjorie at arm’s length.
“Presley doesn’t need to make an effort—” he started.
“Nonsense. I’ve been telling her she needs to make an effort her entire life. Not that she would listen,” Marjorie finished.
Then a new voice entered the conversation. “Oh, we all tried.” Joan Everly’s singsong cadence ramped up Kane’s irritation. “But sometimes growing up takes a while.”
Kane wondered if he imagined Presley’s step closer to his side.
Marjorie, however, smiled at the newcomer. “Well, I know who I have to thank for that,” she said, pointing in Kane’s direction. “Why, I haven’t seen her covered in horse manure in days. I can’t believe someone has finally taught her how to be womanly.”
The target of Marjorie’s comment remained silent. But not Joan.
“Let’s hope he hasn’t taught her too many things,” she mumbled, loud enough for Kane to still hear her.
Marjorie’s nonexistent brows shot up.
“Of course, I never had to be taught,” Joan continued, turning her gaze directly toward Kane. “To be feminine, that is. It’s always come naturally to me.”
Kane was very careful not to drop his gaze, because if he wasn’t mistaken, little Joan was arching her back to put her cleavage more on display.
“But Presley was always a horsey girl, you know.” She glanced at the object of her ridicule with a small smile. “I doubt it will be long before she’s back in jeans.”
Just then, the hand tucked into his slipped away.
“Oh, goodness, I hope not,” Marjorie said. “Leave a woman some hope.”
Kane reached out and found Presley’s hand once more. He kept his grip firm. She wasn’t getting away, and he wanted her to know it.
“Actually, I hope she’s back in jeans tomorrow,” he interjected. “It would be silly to work in a dress in a barn. And since Presley is the reason Macarthur Haven is still kicking, I’d think you might change your mind about that, too, Marjorie.”
His pointed look actually had the older woman’s cheeks filling with ruddy color. Let her remember exactly what her stepdaughter is doing for her.
Finally, he glanced Presley’s way, keeping quiet until she raised her gaze to meet his. It wasn’t for long, just a few seconds before it dropped again, but maybe it was enough for her to see the truth. A truth he wasn’t hiding any longer.
He wanted her.
“Presley and I have gotten to know each other very well,” he said, leaving the women to decide what he meant. “She’s an excellent business manager, animal lover and daughter. I didn’t teach her anything. I simply gave her permission to be her best self.”
He turned a piercing gaze on Joan. “There’s more to a woman than a dress,” he said, not bothering to hide his annoyance. “If not, what’s the point in hanging around?”
There was no stopping it. His own wicked way of looking at things wouldn’t be held back. So he said the very thing he knew would get into Joan’s craw. “Besides, Presley is sexy no matter what she’s wearing...or not wearing, for that matter.”
He quickly sidestepped the two women as if they were an unwanted encumbrance and led Presley on a single-minded trek to the front doors. She didn’t protest. Didn’t say anything, in fact. By now, she should have been talking smack, but she wasn’t.
That’s what worried him.
* * *
Presley wasn’t sure how long she’d been riding in the SUV, shaking on the inside, concentrating on not letting the tremors show. As she became more aware of her surroundings, she also realized that her feelings weren’t as cut-and-dried as they should be.
She’d been subjected to ridicule from Joan since the moment Joan realized just how powerful it made her feel. Of course, normally her taunts were more veiled and more private. Presley had overlooked the comments about her clothing choices and lack of ability to compete on any kind of sexual level for what seemed like forever. Their potency had been weakened by years of repetition.
But not tonight. For some reason, knowing Kane wasn’t just the witness but the recipient of Joan’s comments changed everything. Joan’s first words had made her heart pound, but everything else was now lost in a red sea of embarrassment. As if Marjorie and Joan had stripped her naked so they could point out all of her flaws—to Kane.
He wasn’t the type to walk away. Oh, no. Instead he’d defended her—she remembered every word of that part of the exchange in detail. But she wished she couldn’t.
Presley and I have gotten to know each other very well...
“Why would you tell them that?” she choked.
She could feel Kane glance her way in the dark, but she didn’t turn to look at him.
“Which part?” he asked.
You don’t remember, because it doesn’t affect you. “They’re going to think we’re sleeping together,” she mumbled, almost afraid to say the words aloud. But a force deep inside—maybe anger, maybe need—wouldn’t let her stay quiet any longer.
Kane wasn’t helping. “So?”
“The season’s just started.” Why was she pursuing this line of questions? It could only lead to an embarrassing rejection. Right? “Do you really want to keep this pretense up for months on end?”
“Will it be a pretense?” he asked.
For a moment, her breath caught in her throat. “What?”
Instead of answering, Kane turned the wheel, then pressed on the brakes. Presley’s stomach lurched as the SUV jerked and went still. Kane twisted in his seat to face her.
“I haven’t made any secret of the fact that I’m attracted to you, Presley.”
She shook her head as if to deny what she already knew. “But I thought that was...” Her throat closed.
In the lights from the dash, Kane looked even darker, more dangerous and determined. “I have absolutely no need to pretend,” he said. “This is me, Presley. I’ll always be honest with you.”
She thought back to all he’d told her since they’d first met. And by the way, if there should be any side effects to our spending time together—mutual consent... The doubt returned, clouding her thinking.
“Did you say all that just to get in my pants?”
His chuff of laughter made her ears burn. “No. I said it because it’s the truth. But while we’re talking, is it working?”
“Is what?”
“My attempt to get in your pants.”
“Of course it is.”
Did she really just say that? She should have been embarrassed; she should backtrack. Instead the internal pressure from earlier faded away, leaving only an aching need for him to be telling the truth.
“Good,” he said simply, then reached across the console for her.
Presley didn’t resist, couldn’t resist. Her lips met his halfway, eager for another taste of Kane’s dark essence.
His kiss was soft yet strong. Eager and hungry. Anticipation swelled to match the pounding of her blood. Kane’s hand slid up into her hair, burying deep in the loose thickness, holding her still for his thorough exploration.
It wasn’t the overzealous fumbling of a boy, but the firm lead of a man who knew what he wanted. His tongue teased along the seam of her lips, and she allowed him inside. He conquered every new inch of territory with a sensual purpose that allowed her to concentrate on the way he made her feel.
Suddenly Kane pulled back, breathing hard as he rested his forehead against hers. His fingers flexed against the back of her skull, eliciting a moan from deep in her throat. His obvious struggle for control sent a thrill rushing through her. No one had responded to a simple kiss with her like that—certainly not someone as strong and single-minded as Kane.
For the first time, she heard Kane erupt into full-bodied, rolling laughter. Everything in her froze, almost waiting for the gotcha like an awkward high school girl lured under the bleachers, only to find herself the object of ridicule. Instead, Kane wiped a hand over his eyes, then gestured toward the windshield.
“Apparently my subconscious knows what I want, too.”
Huh? Her gaze followed the light, and she blinked for a moment, then suppressed a smile. Illuminated in the glow of the headlights was the columned porch of Kane’s house in town.
* * *
The walk into Kane’s house wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as it was once she got inside. Presley wished she could go back to the mindless passion of moments ago, instead of feeling the self-conscious awareness that they were moving into territory that had never worked out for her the way it was depicted in romantic movies.
Kane secured the front door, then asked quietly as he removed her wrap, “Would you like a drink?”
“Yes. No.”
Ugh.
Kane grinned at her. “Not sure, huh?”
“Well, yes, I feel the need for one, but not for a good reason. No, I don’t want one, because then I might not be as in control as I need to be and...” She breathed in deep. “I’m rambling.”
The way he studied her made her feel even more uncomfortable. Why did she have to be so socially awkward? Give her a room full of guys wanting to hear step-by-step instructions on how to bit train a horse, and she could give them exactly what they wanted. Give her one man in a room with passion on his mind, and she completely flaked out and failed to deliver.
This was her experience of womanhood...
Kane offered his trademark half grin and took her hand, leading her up the stairs that rose along the left side of the foyer. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I don’t think you’ll need alcohol to have a good time.”
“I hope you feel the same later,” she mumbled.
He didn’t even hesitate but continued upward.
Please, please don’t let him be disappointed.
Her heart pounded, and she felt as far from aroused as possible by the time they reached Kane’s bedroom. She distracted herself by examining the surroundings: antique wooden floors, a tapestry of a hunting scene over the fireplace, the heavy mahogany bed frame and furniture against the creamy walls.
A small lamp from the hallway let her see inside, but Kane didn’t move to turn on any more lights. Thank goodness. Her stomach churned. Kane’s presence surrounded her from behind. She could feel him finger individual strands of her hair and wanted so badly to close her eyes, to slip under his spell.
But she was afraid. This was one area where confidence in her job would not help her.
But then those big hands began to knead her shoulders, her neck, her scalp, and liquid sparkles melted into her blood. By the time he released the single clasp on the back of her dress, she was beyond protest.
The dress could only come off over her head, but that didn’t seem to worry Kane. She felt the brush of him against her back, then warm palms pressed against her naked thighs. He traced up and over the curve of her hips, cupping them so his fingers cradled her hip bones. His fingers lay just inches from the part of her body that told her in no uncertain terms this was what she wanted.
Her body jerked involuntarily. Kane’s hold tightened. Then, to her surprise, he guided her back against him. His thigh pressed firmly against that most intimate part of her, eliciting a rush of need. Presley didn’t know whether to be grateful or regretful of the clothes still separating them. The urgency to feel Kane’s skin, all over, grew with each touch.
But he made it clear he was running this show.
He guided her in a rocking motion until her breath was shallow and staggered. Then those wicked palms moved farther upward, taking her dress with them, until the only thing covering her most intimate parts was a thin, silky pair of panties.
The dress continued inching up her body, until the sheer momentum lifted her arms. Then it was over her head and her hair fell back around her shoulders. Kane didn’t leave her time to be self-conscious.
One moment he was glued to her, then he was gone. Before she had time to think, he swept her up in his arms and strode to the bed. This was definitely new... He came down with her until Presley felt surrounded by the heat and musk of him. He buried his face against her neck.
Presley found herself staring at the darkened ceiling as the sensation of Kane’s open mouth on her skin left a trail of fire. A sudden awareness of his clothes brushing over her bare skin flooded through her. Soft with just a touch of starch, the fabric of his shirt made every one of her nerve endings take notice. The knowledg
e that she lay beneath him in just bra and panties while he was fully clothed left her vulnerable, yet...not.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the sensations. She grabbed his upper arms, her fingers digging into the muscle as she pulled him closer.
“Yes, Presley,” he groaned against her skin.
Suddenly she wanted to give him her all, not just lie there waiting on him.
She reached farther, burying her fists into the back of his shirt. Though she pulled against him, he didn’t fall, but his body began to rock. She recognized the motion from earlier, but the full-on version was a whole different experience. A preview of exactly where they were headed. Kane’s sucking kisses moved down her collarbone to her cleavage, causing her nipples to tighten in almost painful need.
Her grasping hands moved to his collar, then around to the buttons. But she wasn’t dexterous enough for this particular exercise at the moment. No problem. Kane reared up to balance on his knees, then jerked his shirt open from collar to hem.
His urgency echoed her own, and a small part of her sighed in relief, finally letting go of the self-conscious worry that he was somehow only humoring her.
He didn’t try for her bra clasp, but instead pulled the cups down to expose her shaking breasts. Her cries filled the dim room as he teased first one nipple then the other in a synchronized dance that brought them to taut red points. Presley snaked her hands between them until her fingers found his belt buckle.
Then Kane stilled. Presley’s breath caught. Was he upset? Frustrated? She could feel the press of his hardness against the backs of her knuckles.
“Unzip me,” he demanded.
Her sudden tension melted, and her fingers fumbled before finally achieving her goal. Kane’s hand brushed hers away to complete the task of freeing himself. Watching Kane kneel between the vee of her legs to yank down his pants was gratifying in the extreme.
Eager and ready, Kane reached for Presley’s panties. She expected him to yank them down or something. Instead his fingers slid around the edge, and Presley’s world zeroed in on the feel of him brushing against her wetness. He bent close and breathed against her through the fabric. Presley’s heart pounded hard; her hips lifted as her need spiked.
