His to Keep (Beauty and the Brit) (8 page)

“Hold still.” It did something to Brynn when Iain went all authoritative. It made her hot. Eager. All this time, she’d wondered what it would be like to be dominated by a strong man. The reality was more sensual, more provocative than she’d ever imagined.

Arousal flashed through her. Her body literally ached for him, but it was more than just physical. Iain stirred her emotions. She was all mixed up—vulnerable yet unashamed, submissive but powerful in her femininity. Brynn’s thoughts were a jumble.

Once Iain cupped one of her breasts and flicked the nipple with his thumb, she quit trying to figure it all out. She tilted her chin toward the ceiling, reveling in the moment. He toyed with her breast, massaging it in rough, unhurried circles.

“Spread your legs.”

Enthralled by his demanding words, she was powerless to do anything but obey, planting her heels on the bed and letting her knees fall open. Besides, Brynn wanted more of his expert touch. The man knew what he was doing. His caress wasn’t hesitant, as she’d experienced in the past. Iain was self-assured and seemed to know just what she needed.

He increased the pressure on her breast, pinching her nipple, making her crazy. Each squeeze heightened her excitement until Brynn was breathless, wondering what he’d do next. Her heart beat erratically in anticipation.

Iain wasn’t gentle when he dipped his head and took her other breast into his mouth. Then he began to suck—long, slow pulls. A hot tug of desire ran from her breast to her clit. She was throbbing now, as his teeth tightened against her budded nipple. It was glorious, being helpless to his whims. She was participant but restricted—her fantasy come to life. The one she’d played out so many times as she masturbated, though Brynn seldom made the leap and climaxed.

She tried to put that from her mind, to forget about the end game and just enjoy Iain’s warm tongue circling her nipple. She tried to move her hands again but couldn’t. That stimulated her more than she thought possible—being held down, ravished. Nothing in her daydreams had prepared her for the reality of being helpless and bound.

As he continued to suck, Iain’s touch on her other breast relaxed and skimmed her sensitive skin. Brynn shivered. Oh, that was good too. His hand brushed down her body, lingering as he traced over her stomach. No matter what amount of pressure he used, his touch was powerfully erotic, leaving little tingles in its wake.

Brynn ground her hips into the mattress, desperate for some relief. Inside, that persistent tension rose and twisted, taking her right to the edge. If Iain would only touch her clit, she just might topple over. Her pussy was so heavy and swollen. Ready for him. Instead, his hands fluttered over her ribs, traced her belly button. She was going to lose her mind. Pressure ratcheted deep in her belly. With each graze of his hand, with each sharp sting of his teeth, it built. She needed…something. Anything. Brynn’s moan sounded like a sob, a wordless plea.

Iain’s hand drifted lower, rubbing her hip. With languid strokes he finally—God,
finally
—worked his way downward and cupped Brynn’s mound. When he ground the heel of his hand against it, she bucked her hips.

Iain raised his mouth from her breast. “Hold still. Understand? Don’t make me say it again.”

She shivered at the command, her clit throbbing beneath Iain’s palm. She wanted him to press down again, so she froze and prayed he’d continue. Desire made her almost dizzy.
Please don’t stop.
She bit her lip to keep from crying out, but she would if he didn’t start kneading her again. Soon. If he ignored her for too long, she wouldn’t be able to keep the words from escaping. She’d beg. She’d bargain. Brynn would promise him anything, if only he’d bear down on her pussy.

After a long moment, he placed his mouth over her breast once more and sucked hard, using his lips, his tongue. Brynn willed herself to remain motionless. Finally, Iain began to massage her mons in a circular motion. When he slid two fingers inside of her, Brynn stopped breathing altogether.

Then without warning, her body jerked and her hips leaped off the bed. Sharp, almost violent sensations flashed through her, causing her pussy to contract, her toes to curl. Oh hell. She closed her eyes and tried to hang on as her body tightened. But another spasm, strong and unexpected, tore her to pieces, robbing her brain of oxygen. His fingers pumped faster, not allowing her any relief. Iain Chapman manipulated her body, forcing her higher. When another surge hit, every thought in her head dissolved.

With her stomach muscles quaking, Brynn rode out the mind-numbing waves of pleasure. It seemed to go on forever; it didn’t last long enough. Once her body stopped shaking, she opened her eyes.

She lay limp, exhausted. Exhilarated. It was the most intense experience of her life. Between the confident way Iain touched her and his bossy, domineering attitude, Brynn had shattered beneath his hands. His wonderful, talented hands. She
could
come—it just had to be under the right circumstances.
And the right partner.

She realized that Iain was staring down at her, a bemused look on his face. “You all right, love? You seem a bit gobsmacked.” He wiggled his fingers, which were still sheathed firmly inside of her.

She gasped. “No, I’m good.” She tried to sound all casual and cool, as if having an orgasm were a daily occurrence, but Brynn’s voice came out a little squeaky. Now, after the heat of the moment, her self-consciousness returned. She was lying there with a naked man, a client no less.
Who just rocked your world so hard you can’t even move.
Yeah, he’d done that all right. “Really. I’m good.”

He opened his hand, releasing her from his grasp, and Brynn rotated her wrists. “You like it when I take charge.” Very carefully, he pulled his fingers out of her body.

Though he hadn’t asked a question, she answered anyway. “Yes, I liked it,” she said softly. Truthfully.

Iain moved to cover her with his big body. “I know,” he murmured against her lips. “I liked it, too.”

Brynn enjoyed the solid weight of him. His chest hair tickled her breasts. She wanted to experience all of him, every inch. But as she wrapped her arms around his back, the front door opened and slammed shut.

“Brynn?” an accented voice called from the entryway. “Where are you?”

Shit.
“Get off me,” Brynn hissed and slapped Iain’s
shoulder until he rolled over. She hopped off the bed and tripped over clothes as she ran to the bedroom door. A gold cufflink dug painfully into her heel. “Hang on, Tash. I’ll be out in a sec.”

She shut the door and locked it, then spun around in a blind panic. Bending down, she began gathering Iain’s clothes and tossing them toward the bed. “You have to leave.” Ice-cold reality doused her passion, chilling her naked body and bringing with it the realization that she was standing in her bedroom with a virtual stranger. She didn’t even have any condoms on hand. Brynn hadn’t had sex in ages. What in the hell had she been thinking?

You weren’t thinking; you were too busy coming. Be grateful, jellyfish.
She was grateful. And horrified. And embarrassed.

Her hands shaking, Brynn pulled at her robe, which was trapped beneath Iain’s leg. “What the bloody hell is wrong with you?” He lifted his thigh, freeing the kimono.

Brynn backed away from him and yanked the robe over her shoulders. She held the edges together, covering herself.

Iain stood, still hard and ready to go. “Who is that out there?”

“My neighbor, Natasha.”

“She just barges in, does she? Doesn’t even bother to fucking knock? Go get rid of her.” As he walked toward her, Brynn couldn’t take her eyes off him.

“I can’t. She’s a steamroller, like you.”

Iain stopped in front of her and, cupping her chin, forced her head up. “Get rid of her. I’m taking you out.”

Brynn clutched the robe so tightly, her hand cramped. There was something about dinner, something she needed to do. Oh, crap. SNO. She was supposed to have dinner with her sisters. “I can’t. I have plans.”

Iain turned and grabbed his boxers. As he stepped into them, his butt flexed. Even his ass was stellar. He glanced back at her. “The boyfriend, yeah?”

Brynn shook her head. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

He reached for his slacks. “Good. That makes things easier.”

Brynn had made it too easy for him already. Just a few kisses and a couple of imperious commands, and she’d abandoned all of her common sense.

She pressed her lips together and gathered her courage. “Maybe it’s a good thing we were interrupted.
I
don’t feel that casually hooking up is right for me. I realize I gave that impression a few minutes ago. I apologize for sending mixed signals.”

“No apologies necessary, pet. But you were going to fuck me, which you admit is out of character. Why is that?”

Brynn tried to think of a reasonable explanation but came up blank. Could she claim temporary insanity? Iain made her feel very reckless. Irrational, in fact. When she was near him, Brynn’s senses were attuned to his every move. Her body responded to his voice, his smell. It was alarming. But she wasn’t about to outwardly acknowledge any of that. Brynn pressed a hand to her stomach. “Out-of-control hormones? That’s my best guess.”

Iain laughed and that dimple appeared. “Try again.” He fastened his pants, then grabbed his shirt, thrusting his arms into the sleeves. “This thing between us, love, it’s inevitable. It might not happen this minute, but it will happen.”

“No, I don’t believe that. This was a onetime thing. I work for you. Personal and professional lines shouldn’t cross.” Brynn walked to the closet and yanked open the door, taking a second to secure the belt tightly around her waist. “Right now, I need to get ready, so if you could finish dressing, I’d really appreciate it.”

“Are you trying to dismiss me? You won’t get rid of me that easily. And I like crossing lines. I do it every chance I get.” With his shirt still undone, his feet bare, Iain padded toward her. “I’ll do things to your body that you’ve only dreamed about, Brynn Campbell. I can be your sexual facilitator.” He rested his hands on her waist.

Brynn’s fingers froze on the hanger, her mind spinning with possibilities. She’d done a whole lot of dreaming over the years. “Sex,” her voice cracked on the word. “Sex is the most primitive form of communication. I hardly need an instructor to figure it out.” He laughed again and pulled her backward, so that she rested against him. “What makes you think I’m not sexually experienced?” she asked. “Maybe I could teach you a few tricks.” What the hell was she talking about? The only moves Brynn knew were the ones she’d seen in pornos, most of which required a serious lack of inhibition and a lot of muscle control. But Iain’s arrogance had gotten the better of her.

“In spite of the fact that you were gagging for it five minutes ago,” he said, “you have an innocence about you. I think you could use a little corrupting.” He kissed her cheek, then moved away.

Brynn wanted to be corrupted. Just having Iain hold her down had been enough to let her fall over the edge into bliss. But she worked with him. For him. And he was too domineering outside the bedroom—which, if she were being honest, she kind of enjoyed—the rudeness, though, that she could live without.

While continuing this little encounter would be sexually gratifying, they weren’t a good match. Brynn was too much of a pushover and Iain would tromp all over her, wipe his feet on her feelings, and then do it again. It was simply his nature, like it was Brynn’s nature not to stand up for herself.

“When was the last time you had sex, Brynn? Are you taking precautions?”

She turned to find him completely dressed. Even his tie was knotted. Iain had something in his hand. It looked like a pair of dice.

Brynn didn’t want to discuss sex or birth control or what they had done five minutes ago on the rumpled bed. “It’s not going to happen again, so let’s not talk about it.”

“Are you embarrassed?”

“Yes. Extremely.”

“I had my fingers inside of you, pet. The time for embarrassment is over. And it is going to happen again, so answer the question.”

Brynn turned back to the closet, pulled a pink maxi dress off the hanger, and bit her tongue.

“You’re not a virgin, at least not technically. You have been with a man before, haven’t you, love?”

Brynn kept her back to him. “I’m not a virgin, but
I
don’t feel comfortable with this conversation.” She reached for a faded jean jacket when she felt his presence directly behind her once again.

Iain buried his face in her hair and breathed her in. “Brilliant. I want you so far out of your comfort zone, your head will spin. Now where do you want to eat?”

Brynn’s eyes drifted shut and she fought the urge to lean her head back, letting it rest on Iain’s solid chest. “I told you, I have plans.”

“Cancel them. You disappeared at lunch, so you owe me dinner.”

Turning, Brynn peered up at him. “Actually, I disappeared at lunch because we were supposed to be having a training session. You were so busy talking on the phone, I’m surprised you noticed I was gone.”

“Oh, I noticed. When the hostess said you’d left, I fired her on the spot.”

“What?” Brynn’s jaw fell open. “Firing people on a whim is a really crappy thing to do. This is why you need a facilitator who knows what she’s doing, one who’s not personally involved with you. That poor woman is out of a job because you were pissed at me.”

“She should have told me at once that you’d gone.”

“Iain, that’s not fair.”

“You need to toughen up, pet. The world is a vicious place, and if getting fired from a hostessing job is the worst thing that happens to her, she’ll get off lucky.”

“You don’t even know her name.”

“No, I don’t. As far as I’m concerned, they’re all expendable.”

That attitude right there—that was why they weren’t a good match. Brynn had never met anyone so hard-hearted, so uncaring. Was this how he’d be after he grew tired of her, after the shiny newness had worn off? Would Brynn become expendable? “
I
find your attitude very disturbing.”

“I’m gutted that I haven’t fucked you yet. A disappointing day all around, wouldn’t you say?”

It took a lot to make Brynn angry. She could simmer for days, months even, but once she reached a boil, that was it. Iain hadn’t merely crossed that threshold—he’d sprinted over it. “I’m not having dinner with you, Iain Chapman. Leave. Now.” Still holding the dress, she extended her arm and pointed at the door. “And don’t be rude to Natasha on your way out. If you can’t manage that, don’t say anything to her at all.” Brynn couldn’t believe she’d just said all that, but she was glad she had. He deserved it.

Surprise flitted across Iain’s features, quickly followed by amusement. “So the kitten has claws. Good to know.” He clamped his hand around her nape and thrust his face near Brynn’s, his lips so close their breaths mingled. Even as she steeled herself against him, Brynn closed her eyes in expectation as she waited. And waited. Her lips drifted apart and her eyes fluttered open to find Iain gazing down at her with a smug grin. Then he kissed her hard before letting go and strolling to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, love.”

Not likely. Brynn’s new mission in life was avoiding Iain Chapman. Cassandra would just have to find someone else to do the job. For once in her life, Brynn was going to have to stand tough.

Too bad she had no idea how to follow through on that.

* * *

Iain rolled the dice in his palm, caressing them with his thumb. He’d been in a foul mood all afternoon. When Brynn left the restaurant, he’d been angry. True, he could have been more considerate of her time, but to leave as she had, had irritated him. Then, to add salt to his wound, she’d ignored his phone calls all fucking day. It was simply unacceptable. So he’d come here to confront her. But when he’d found her in a red bathrobe, fresh from the shower, the smell of vanilla clinging to her tanned skin…all thoughts of taking her to task had flown out the window, and instead, Iain had taken her to bed.

He’d had her naked beneath him, had his fingers inside her, her breast in his mouth. It was even better than he’d imagined. Brynn Campbell was a stunner—long, slender limbs, a tiny waist, puffy, light pink areolas. He wanted her now more than ever.

But this woman sitting in Brynn’s outdated living room had ruined it for him. With a tiny dog on either side of her, she wore a pink fuzzy tracksuit that clashed with her tangerine-toned skin. Her makeup was caked on—long, false eyelashes, trout pout lips glossed to a high shine, and tits the size of footballs. No way could they be real. This woman was full-on chavette, all the way down to her rhinestone-encrusted trainers.

“Who are you, strange man?” she asked in a heavy Slavic accent. “What are you doing in Brynn’s bedroom?”

“None of your fucking business, and who the hell are you?”

“I am Natasha. I do not know you, Englishman.” With a curled lip, she squinted at him.

Why did women work so hard to look unnatural? Perhaps that’s why Iain found himself attracted to Brynn. She was a real woman—natural tits, golden skin that came from sunning herself. He’d seen her strapless bikini line. He’d prefer topless, but with Brynn, he suspected that kind of behavior would take some real persuasion on his part.

“Brynn,” the woman yelled, never taking her eyes off him.

“Just a minute,” came Brynn’s muffled voice.

“You have Englishman in your living room. Do I call police?”

He heard the door open, but Brynn didn’t appear. “No.”

He lifted his shoulders. “See? I’m meant to be here. You, on the other hand, are an interloper. Do you do this often? Drop in uninvited, unannounced?”

“This is Brynn’s house. She does not mind. What is your name?”

“Iain Chapman. Best get used to me, as I plan on being with Brynn.”

“Being with. Another term for
fuck
, yes?”

“I reckon so.” But Iain didn’t want to just
fuck
Brynn. He wanted to know everything about her. Not just what he’d learned from the detailed report—those were dry facts and figures. There was so much more to Brynn. Why was she hesitant to stand up for herself? Why, if she had Trevor Blake and Cal Hughes as brothers-in-law, was she living in a dated house with old, hideous furniture? And why was she friends with this lunatic sitting across from him? Brynn intrigued him in ways he couldn’t begin to understand, and not being a man who valued introspection, Iain didn’t much care about the whys of it. He simply wanted Brynn Campbell.

She wasn’t just a tool to get to Trevor Blake. In truth, he’d been a little obsessed since the first moment he’d seen her in that garden. So watchful. So cautious. So fucking beautiful he hadn’t been able to banish her from his thoughts. Now that he’d seen firsthand how she fell apart in his arms, he wasn’t sure he could ever let her go.

Natasha pointed a long, red-tipped finger at him and turned her inflated lips downward. “Here is deal, Iain Chapman—if you hurt my friend, I will beat you like dog and leave you in desert where animals will feast on your remains. Clear?”

“Yeah, abso-fucking-lutely.” What a nutter.

As Tasha continued to give him the evil eye, Brynn stepped into the doorway, lingering there as if hesitant to come any closer. The low-cut dress she wore exposed her chest, which she tried, unsuccessfully, to cover with a well-worn denim jacket. Iain longed to part the frayed edges and get a better look. Maybe sneak another peek at those beautiful, upturned breasts.