Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family)

by Layla Hagen

  I feel her relax in my arms, even as her inner muscles tighten around me. I drive inside her faster and faster, prepared to rock both our worlds. She’s so tight against me, clenching again and again, that she can’t possibly last much longer. I move from my heels to my toes and then back, needing to pace myself, to stave off my orgasm just a little longer, so she’ll finish first.

  When she cries out, rocking her hips into me desperately, I keep her close, pressed against me, climaxing too. This feels so impossibly good.

  Even after we both ride out our orgasms, I’m not ready to let go of her. I’m beginning to think I never will want to. My fingers press against the skin of her sweet, round ass cheeks, and I rest my head in the crook of her neck, wanting to prolong this moment.

  “Blake,” she whispers softly. “We should—”

  “Not yet. I want to be inside you just a little longer.” I swallow, breathing her in, burying my nose in her skin. She must feel how much I need this—how much I need her, because she simply pulls me closer, keeping me in the circle of her arms. “Just a little longer, I promise.”

  I let her go after several minutes, and she rushes to the bathroom.

  “My hair!” Clara exclaims. “I look like I’ve just—“

  “Had a momentary slip of passion?”

  “Is that what we’re calling it?” she asks cheekily. I have the overwhelming need to stalk after her and kiss her long and good, but then we’d never make it out of the house, and I do have a lot planned for tonight. So, I wait for her to freshen up, only going in the bathroom after she comes out.

  When I return to the living room, Clara is sitting on a chair, tying the straps of her shoes, looking dead sexy in them. She catches me looking at her.

  “You like them?”

  I take a moment to regain my composure, pushing away all the dirty thoughts, because if I voice them, she’d peg me for the pervert I am. She rises to her feet, strutting along the room, holding the hem of her dress up so I can see her shoes. The little vixen is testing my self-control. I close the distance, backing her against the wall—again. I have to stop doing that. Having her trapped between my arms, looking so sinfully sexy and ready to surrender, is messing with my mind. I hadn’t realized just how starved I am for her, but I’ll have to wait until we’re back to get my fill of her.

  “When we return, I’ll keep you up in bed until morning. Until then, you’re not allowed to tempt me. Do you understand?”

  “You don’t get it, do you? You’re not the boss of me.”

  A sassy grin spreads on her beautiful face. Yeah... I’m a dead man.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Clara

  Come on, Clara, you can do this!

  It’s seven o’clock on Saturday, and I’d usually be in my bed this early in the morning—that goes double now that there is a hot man in it. But I woke up half an hour ago to drink water and had a stroke of inspiration to finish an illustration. So, I slipped out of Blake’s bed and took refuge in my apartment, working at the large desktop I have installed on my kitchen table. I’m at the last stage of the process with this one. I start all of them by putting pen to paper, and then I import the rough sketches to my computer and use various programs such as Illustrator and Photoshop to finish them.

  From time to time, I lift my head to give my eyes a break, focusing them on the explosion of colors—pink, reds, yellows—on the balcony. The dahlias and hydrangeas love the end of June weather.

  With a bit of luck, I’ll finish this before Blake even wakes up.

  “Early bird, huh?”

  I jump out of my seat, heart thundering in my chest. “Jesus! Don’t sneak up on me like that. You’ll give me a heart attack.” Blake is standing in the doorway to the balcony, which I left wide open. I glance at the clock. Damn, when did it become nine? No wonder he’s awake.

  “Another illustration ready?” he asks.

  “I was just adding the final touches.”

  “My offer still stands. I can ask my contact to take a look at your work anytime.”

  “No, no, that’s really not necessary.”

  Blake cocks a brow. “You don’t want anyone to ever see your work?”

  “I’d love to share it with others, but I’m not ready yet.”

  “When will you be?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrug, turning off my desktop monitor. “Coffee?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Minutes later, I hand him a cup. He pulls me in for a soft kiss, and I have the overwhelming desire to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming about all of this. We’ve spent almost every night in the same bed since I returned from my trip last week.

  “How did you sleep?” I ask.

  “Someone slept on my arm the entire night. I woke up thinking it fell off.”

  I smile sheepishly. Yes, I have the habit of sleeping on his arm, on his chest. At some point Blake seems to have realized there is no shaking me off, so he spoons behind me, keeping an arm under his head, the other around my waist. I’ve never slept better than when feeling Blake’s chest pressing against my back...and the inevitable morning wood, but that’s an entirely different story. That’s the bonus.

  “It’s your fault. You kept an arm under me instead of your head. You’re quite the spooner.”

  “It makes you happy,” he states with a smile. I swear my toes curl all on their own. Does Blake know how swoonworthy he sounds when he says those things? Evidently not, because he’s not using his seductive voice or his playful voice. There is no secret agenda; he genuinely means it. Which makes it all the more swoonworthy.

  “Go take a shower. We have to pick up the girls in half an hour.”

  Tonight he’s taking me to see the Bennett Enterprises show. It’s the first time we’ll attend an event together, together. And before that, we’re taking Pippa’s girls, Mia and Elena and Julie, out for ice cream. Blake often takes the little ones out for walks or an ice cream, but he’s never invited me over. I’m not sure he kept me out on purpose, but I was thrilled when he asked. I think it means he’s letting me in a little more. Maybe I’m building this up in my mind to be more than it is, but I can’t help myself.

  “I’m so happy you asked me to go to the Bennett show with you. And to take the girls for ice cream.”

  “Thank you for saying yes.”

  “Who can say no to you?”

  He gives an exaggerated wiggle of his eyebrows. Right, the amount of confidence this man possesses first thing in the morning is astonishing. Most people I know, myself included, need a good few hours to build up that trust. Makeup and coffee help, not to mention drop-dead-sexy shoes. Blake rolls out of bed with one hundred percent confidence.

  “Shouldn’t have said that. Boosting your ego first thing in the morning is a dangerous move.”

  Blake smiles, and without taking his eyes off me, brings one of my hands up to his mouth, kissing my wrist. It’s just a light feather of lips, but a shudder zips down my spine. I catch my breath. When I feel the tip of his tongue on my skin, heat zings my center. I attempt to withdraw my hand but Blake pulls me flush against him, one hand still holding my wrist, the other securely on my waist. We look like we’re about to dance, a beautiful and innocent pose.

  Hold that thought!

  He slides the hand from my waist farther down, lifting my nightgown and palming my bare ass. Uh-uh, I should have known better. Blake doesn’t do innocent. Goose bumps form on my ass right away. He runs his thumb up one ass cheek, then down the other, then up the crack between them. I involuntarily roll my hips against him, then take a large step back.

  “You are a terrible man. I need to get ready.”

  While I shower, Blake steps inside the bathroom. I point a menacing finger at him.

  “No tempting me or we’ll never make it out of the house.”

  “No tempting.” That’s when I notice he’s holding my phone. “Penny’s calling. Third time in a row. Must be urgent.”

  My heart in my thr
oat, I turn off the water, step out, and dry my hands on a towel. Blake leaves after handing me the phone. Please, please dear God, don’t let anything have happened to her.

  “Hey, sweetie,” she says. “Your boss is downstairs.”

  “What?”

  “He’s at the interphone. Says he needs to drop off some documents for you. You have this address listed as your work address right?”

  “Crap. Yeah, I do. Sorry about that.”

  “You want me to send him over to Blake’s? Or just take the documents from him and you’ll pick them up later?”

  The last thing I want is for Quentin to come over here, realize I’m living above Blake’s bar. My clearing the air when we were away on set only made his nagging more incessant.

  “Take the documents, please. I’ll drop by today to pick them up. Sorry for this. I’ll make it up with cocktails, I promise.”

  Said documents must be the contracts from a new sponsor. I was supposed to go over it as soon as he got them, which I assume was yesterday evening.

  “Nothing to be sorry for, but I won’t say no to a cocktail.”

  “Thank you, Penny.”

  Damn, that was a close call.

  ***

  “Wow,” I exclaim that evening when we step inside the location for the Bennett show. I’ve been to a number of galas and events for my job, but this is something else entirely. It is elegant but not over the top, rich but not opulent, and despite the size of the venue and the number of people in attendance, it maintains an air of familiarity. It’s almost cozy. Stretching from the back wall to the center of the room is a long runway. On either side of it are small tables, with two to six seats around them, all facing the runway. I’m no pro, but I suspect that the seating arrangements contribute a lot to the intimate atmosphere. Fashion shows usually have rows upon rows of chairs, but this arrangement is far better.

  “There are so many people.”

  “After it’s over, we’re going somewhere, just the two of us. I want to show you something.”

  “Already saw that today.”

  Blake narrows his eyes, and I can’t wait for his comeback. Would it be witty, sexy, both? He surprises me by not saying anything, instead pulling me behind a black panel. From the cables and tools strewn on the floor, I suspect this is a backstage of sorts for the technical team, which is not here at the moment. Blake either knew this or suspected it, because he leans into me like a man with a plan. He kisses my neck, biting me gently. We’re shielded from everyone’s view, but still. This man has no shame, or mercy. And I love every second of this, even though I shouldn’t.

  “Blake!” I intended to work severity into my tone, but it sounds wanton even to my own ears. “You can’t touch me like that in public.”

  “Keep talking like that and I’ll kiss you against this wall, just so you know who’s in charge.”

  “Is it bad that now I’m thinking of ways to provoke you?” I lick my lips, shaking my head.

  Blake steps back. “I’m making an effort here.”

  I wiggle my eyebrows. “This is what makes it more fun.”

  He’s reckless, but hot damn, whenever I’m with him, I want to throw caution to the wind.

  “Come on. Let’s sit before I do something crazy like throwing you over my shoulder and walking out of here.”

  Taking my hand, he leads us back into the room. If possible, the place seems even fuller than a few minutes ago.

  For the first time, I focus on the people and not the decor. All men are wearing suits, and the women have exquisite dresses. As is always the case with such events, I feel out of my depth. It’s not that I feel inferior to everyone else, because I don’t. But I just feel like I don’t belong, like this is all just make-believe. In a way, it is.

  We walk up to one of the tables nearest to the runway, where Christopher, Max, Daniel, and Logan are sitting. There are two empty chairs. The brothers look up, and their reactions when they see me are almost comic. Daniel and Logan mask their surprise more skillfully, only a slight jerk of their head giving them away. Christopher and Max—I can’t tell who’s who—rise in unison. One claps his hands; the other opens his arms wide, as if thanking the skies. I can tell they’re about to roast Blake. I’ve been around the family often enough to know the dynamics. But I never can tell how they’ll choose to torment Blake, and I dearly wish I could pick up on it faster so I can join in on the fun.

  “I never thought I’d see this day,” one of the twins says. I make a concerted effort to tell which one he is. Judging by the way he winks, and the cocky smirk, it must be Christopher. I have a fifty percent chance of being right.

  “Watch it, Max,” Blake warns. Okay, so I failed one hundred percent.

  “Clara, please give us the rundown. Is he treating you well? Should we kick his ass?” the actual Christopher asks.

  “Or give him pointers?” Max adds.

  “Anything you two want to add?” Blake points at Daniel and Logan.

  Logan drums his fingers on the table, narrowing his eyes in mock concentration. Then he perks up, as if he has the right answer. “No, I think Max and Christopher about covered the range of scenarios.”

  Daniel flashes a grin, pointing with his thumb at Logan. “I agree with him.”

  “I’ll have you know he’s being a swoon-worthy gentleman.”

  Logan cocks a brow. Next to me, Blake nods.

  “He bought my favorite flowers and planted them on the balcony.”

  Christopher and Max both feign shock. Teasing is an art in this family. I can only hope I’ll be as good one day.

  “‘Atta-boy,” Logan exclaims.

  “I think he’s giving all of you a run for your money in the charming department,” I add for effect. The brothers look slightly affronted at this, and Blake smiles proudly. Too proudly. Hmm, my wicked side rears its head. Having Blake’s back is good. Riling him up is even better.

  “But he’s also very inappropriate.”

  He cocks a brow at me. “You’ll pay for this.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  The four brothers guffaw just as a waiter appears with a tray of glasses filled with a fizzy drink. I take a sip from mine. It’s champagne, as I guessed, and it’s delicious. As the waiter leaves, the lights turn dimmer, and the screens at the side of the runway light up.

  “Where’s Sebastian?” I ask.

  “See that mirror at the back of the room?” Logan asks. “It’s a see-through glass. A room is behind it, and Sebastian watches from there. Too much press around here for him. He did attend at some point, but I swear the reporters have only become nosier over time.”

  “I can imagine that,” I say, my stomach twisting as I remember my conversations with Quentin.

  “Ava will be here. She’s backstage with Pippa now,” Daniel adds.

  Everyone sits down, Blake and me included. As an energetic, upbeat song replaces the soft background music, I realize this is the first time we’re together in front of the family, or at the very least the brothers (Will’s party doesn’t count since we were still on shaky ground). But I know how this works. Everyone will know about this by the time the evening ends.

  Ava joins us, sitting in one of the two remaining chairs. She grins at me, giving me a thumbs-up.

  “How come you’re not watching with Sebastian from the back room?” I ask quietly.

  “I like to tease him.” Even in the dim light, I can tell Ava’s blushing. “Besides, I need to concentrate on the show, put out any fires if needed, and Sebastian is very good at distracting me.”

  “Oh yeah, the Bennett men should come with a warning sign.”

  When I turn to face the runway, out of the corner of my eye I see Ava furiously typing on her phone. Correction: everyone will know about me being here within an hour.

  Blake takes my hand, kisses my knuckles, then puts our interlinked hands on the table as the show starts.

  I watch with rapt attention, not wanting to miss one detail.
The girls strutting up and down the runway are gorgeous. They’re all wearing simple clothes so the jewelry stands out.

  I have to admit, I have a hard time seeing the jewelry on the runway, so I glance at the screens often, but many in the audience appear to do the same.

  At midpoint, there is a break, and I excuse myself because I desperately need to go to the bathroom. As I walk away, I catch two women sitting a few tables away watching me. They have their heads together, and one is pointing at me, but she quickly withdraws her hand when I look her way. I rack my mind, wondering if I’ve met them before. Maybe in passing at work? I really can’t place them, and considering they pretended to look away when I caught them staring, I don’t care about placing them. If people lack manners, I won’t spend any of my energy being pissed and annoyed about it.

  To my surprise, the toilets are empty. Thank goodness. I practically sprint to a stall.

  When I dress up minutes later, I have to rearrange my boobs. It’s the type of dress that has the unfortunate tendency of sliding up from too much movement, and now the tight part of the fabric meant to highlight my waist is squishing the underside of my boobs. I remain in the stall, one hand in my neckline, when I hear the bathroom door swing open.

  “Oh please, Blake’s lowered his standards. That woman is so insipid she’s practically invisible. All I’m saying is he’d better not expect me to jump in his bed once he’s done with her. Once standards drop, I’m out.”

  My hand freezes in the act of rearranging my breasts. My blood, on the other hand, is starting to boil. I’m not sure that the glass of champagne I had is helping.

  “She seemed to be friendly with everyone in the family.” This is another speaker. “He never asked you to sit with his family at the shows.”

  “Maybe she wanted to snag a Bennett and realized Blake and Daniel are the only ones left. As if anyone’s gonna make those settle. Goodness knows I tried.”

  “You should switch brothers. Daniel’s here tonight.”

  “Nah, they talk. The one thing they’re not sharing is women.”

  “Why would you want to marry into that god-awful family anyway? I mean, they’re rich, but they’re all over each other all the time. I can’t understand how anyone can live like that.”