Authors: Lora Leigh
Monsters were exactly what they were. As Moriah moved ahead of her to allow them to reenter the party separately, Jaci felt her chest clench at the other girl's pain.
It was one thing to attempt to attack a grown woman and force her into the nasty games the Robertses played. But they also had attempted to force a child into them. Moriah had only been fifteen when her parents sent her to spend the summer with the Robertses while they traveled overseas to attend to business Harold Brockheim had.
During that summer, Annalee Roberts had nearly broken the young girl—terrified her to the point that, once her parents returned, she never spoke of it. And she had never forgotten it.
They hadn't raped her; and to this day, Jaci didn't know what had stopped them. But they had tormented her. Tortured her. They spanked her for the slightest infraction. They humiliated her, broke her confidence down. Threatened her and her parents, allowed her to see things she should never have seen and hear things that marked her, where her own sexuality was concerned.
The weeks she and Jaci had spent in her parent's Colorado cabin had been enlightening for her, as well as for Jaci. She was the only person Jaci had ever revealed the truth to, and Jaci knew Moriah would never reveal those secrets.
Now they were both determined to make their stand. The younger woman was the only true ally Jaci had. She would be the only person who could help her when that particular showdown came.
As she moved back into the ballroom, she came to a slow stop just within the wide double doors that had been thrown back to open the buffet room into the ballroom.
She could feel Cam. He was there, his gaze sliding over her, touching her.
She was wearing the dress he had bought her, the shoes, the panties, and the stockings, and she could feel him claiming ownership of her.
A second later, her gaze was drawn across the room; it locked with his, and she could have sworn the ballroom receded as she stared back at him. There was only the two of them.
How interesting. She had heard of the phenomena, had heard others speak of it. How the world and their vision narrowed down to one person, one event, one moment in time. And that was how it happened.
The scar at the side of his face was wicked white, indicating his anger. His expression was brooding, his thick black hair was pulled back to his nape, and the evening clothes did nothing to hide the powerful frame beneath.
He was a man in his prime—intent, dominant, and ready to take what belonged to him. Tonight, he would take her. She could feel it. The knowledge of it was rushing through her veins, heating her, sensitizing her, making her aware of all the ways she was a woman. And he was the man that would own her.
She had hoped to face this moment later—after she had dealt with the Robertses, after she had proven to herself that she wasn't weak, that she could fight them on their own turf.
The knowledge that she had run from the Robertses, when she was younger, had haunted her for five years. She had been weak, too weak to know what they were before they had struck, too weak to strike back. She wasn't weak anymore, she told herself. She had learned how to face the world.
But she hadn't learned how to handle Cam or the desires he caused to burn inside her. She hadn't learned how to handle the knowledge that, with very little effort on his part, she was going to love him with an intensity that had the power to destroy her. From the moment she had seen him, when she had been no more than a young teen, something within her had known he was important to her. And that hadn't changed.
The Robertses had been an excuse, when it came to her forming no intimate attachments. In a blinding moment of insight, she saw that now. She had refused to go to Cam, so she had needed an excuse, a reason not to allow another man to touch her, to take her. Because she couldn't forget him. She couldn't get him out of her mind or her heart, and every man she had met she compared to him, and they had fallen far short of the mark.
How immature she had been, she thought, as he began to move across the room. How stupid. How much time she had wasted coming to him. Because she was frightened. Because she knew she would have to face parts of herself that she wasn't certain she wanted to face. Parts of herself that she knew Cam would force her to face now.
Dealing with the Robertses, as well as what she knew would develop between her and Cam, was going to require some careful stepping. Cam wasn't the type of man who would let her handle it on her own if he knew what was going on. She would have to watch herself, but even more, she would have to keep a closer eye on what the Robertses were doing.
She had worked for five years to gain the power to face them on their own turf. All she needed now was the setup. Moriah would help provide that, but it would take time. And with Cam around, time wasn't something she would have a lot of.
She stood her ground now, took a slow, deep breath, and let her smile touch her lips as Cam stopped within a breath of her.
His gaze raked over her, the force of it stroking the flames inside her hotter, higher.
"Good evening, Cam," she greeted him softly, aware of those around them watching them curiously.
His gaze slid over her breasts then to her eyes. "Are you having fun?" he asked her, the gentleness of his voice sending a flashpoint of warning up her spine.
"Actually, I am." She tightened her fingers on the small evening clutch she held. Nerves jangled through her system, primitive awareness screamed through her mind. "Are you?"
He leaned closer, a dark smile curling his lips. "Not yet. But I will be before the night's over."
"Ms. Wright. Hello there, Cam. Good to see you here."
The spell that had woven around them dissipated at the sound of the booming voice at their side.
Cam eased back, while Jaci flinched, turning to the couple that stood to their side.
She recognized them: Brian and Lenore Zimmer. Brian was tall and balding, his brown hair cut conservatively at the back and sides, the top shining unashamedly. Brian and his wife were lawyers for one of the larger firms in Alexandria. They were upper crust, blue blood, and Lenore had roomed with Annalee in college.
"Hello Brian, Lenore." Cam moved to her side, his hand landing at her lower back, a move that proclaimed his possessiveness as well as his protectiveness.
"Brian, Lenore." Jaci kept her smile even, polite.
"Moriah says you did a wonderful job with her parent's cabin," Lenore said, her cultured voice smooth and perfectly pitched. "Brian and I were interested in discussing a project with you, once you've completed the Sinclair mansion."
Interesting.
The Zimmers were easily as powerful as the Robertses within the Alexandria-D.C. area, and if they weren't, then Brian Zimmer's father definitely was.
"I'd be happy to talk to you about it, Lenore," Jaci answered, and she opened her purse and withdrew a business card. "Contact me whenever you have a chance, and we'll set up a time to talk."
Lenore's aristocratic features relaxed marginally and her smile became less polite and a bit warmer.
"Courtney is raving about the designs you've shown her so far for the mansion," she said. "There was talk, though, that you had no intentions of lingering in Alexandria once you were finished with the Sinclair home."
"Really?" Jaci asked. "I haven't made any decisions regarding projects in the area, but I'm a businesswoman, Lenore, as I'm certain you understand. My plans often hinge on the projects available in an area."
She was aware of Cam and Brian Zimmer talking quietly at the side. Lenore's gaze flickered to her husband. She turned slightly, the shimmering blue-and-smoke shade of her evening gown darkening her gray eyes.
"I wanted to be certain to catch you before others could arrange your schedule for you." She lowered her head and glanced back at Jaci through lowered lashes. "I'm sure you're aware there are those who are eager to see you leave town as quickly as possible."
Jaci's brows arched curiously. "Some people will have to live with the inconvenience, then."
Lenore's lips twitched in amusement, before her expression smoothed once again.
"I look forward to discussing the project with you, then." Lenore nodded firmly, the sleek, dark hair feathering around her sharply defined face, as a smile curled at her lips. She turned back to her husband. "Are you ready, Brian?"
He frowned, though his hazel-brown eyes gleamed with laughter. "But Lenore, she hasn't come on to me yet. Do we have to leave before she has the chance?"
Jaci froze, then blinked at Brian in shock, as Cam seemed to growl at her side.
"Brian, it's the wrong time for your jokes," Cam warned him.
"Hit him, Cam. He's only getting worse." Lenore was obviously hiding her laughter. "I can't take him out in public at all anymore."
"Brian, I catch you in the sparring ring again, and I'm going to hurt you," Cam warned him, though amusement lurked in his voice.
Jaci glanced up at him, saw the laughter lurking in his gaze, despite his cool expression.
"Hell, you two won't let me have any fun anymore." Brian shrugged his shoulders and flashed Jaci a subtle wink. "Maybe you can teach him how to enjoy life some."
"You're looking at the wrong girl," she told him. "I was hoping he could teach
me
how to have fun."
Cam tensed beside her, the obvious sexual vibes rising between them were thick enough to cut with a knife. She couldn't push Cam away, she couldn't push him back; that left distracting him. It wouldn't take long, she assured herself. She and Moriah would have things ready soon. She just had to push Richard and Annalee a little bit further. Just enough to make them stupid enough to contact her, to say the wrong thing. Just enough to set them up and neutralize them.
She glanced around the ballroom as Brian and Cam returned to a business discussion, her gaze meeting Annalee Roberts's.
Shoulder-length black hair framed her porcelain face and long, slender neck. Tonight she was dressed in a soft, cream-colored silk. Hell, she looked almost virginal. Her blue eyes were full of fury, though—narrowed, glittering with rage, as her ruby-red lips thinned in displeasure.
She might be dressed in the color of almost-purity right now, but Jaci knew what she looked like in black leather and with a whip in her hand. The scar across Jaci's hip was evidence that the woman liked to use a whip and loved to leave lasting reminders of her sadism.
Jaci ignored the nerves in her stomach, let a smile touch her lips as she accepted a glass of champagne from the waiter and lifted it in a subtle toast to the other woman.
Then she turned back to Cam, deliberately assuring Annalee how little her anger meant.
Oh yes, she just needed to push her a little bit further.
"Would you like to tell me what the hell you were up to at the Brockheim party?"
Cam all but slammed the hotel room door closed hours later, as Jaci tossed her clutch onto the table just inside the room and turned to face both him and Chase.
Chase had been eerily silent during the drive from the party, his expression dark and closed, his eyes watching, tracking both Jaci and Cam's expressions constantly. He'd made Cam feel like a fucking bug under a microscope.
Until Cam looked at Jaci. When he did, he could see the defiance in her expression, but there was something more in her face that almost terrified him. As though the veil of calm indifference that had been there before had been stripped away by some unknown force. She faced him now, none of the shadows that had once hid her from him in place.
"I wasn't up to anything." She spread her arms out from her body, drawing attention to those luscious curves.
Cam gave her what she was after. He let his gaze flicker over that dark red dress, but he watched those incredible eyes from the corner of his, just as he knew Chase was watching her, lusting for her. That defiance only fueled the desire. The desire was in turn fueled by the knowledge that she was his. His, by God, and she would not continue in whatever was up between her and the Robertses.
"You're up to something, all right," he grunted as he shrugged his jacket from his shoulders and moved into the sitting room, aware of Chase crossing his arms over his chest and watching both of them carefully.
She watched them both warily. He could see her thinking, calculating her odds of blowing off his suspicions.
"You challenged Annalee at that party, Jaci. I'm not a fool. I saw that look you gave her."
And he wasn't the only one. Brian Zimmer had seen it, and he had been concerned. As one of the club's legal advisors, Brian had been keeping up with the investigation into the Robertses' vendetta against Jaci, as well as the reports that were still coming in on Jaci herself.
She had met a lot of people over the years; there had to have been someone she had revealed the truth to. A friend, a lover they hadn't yet found, someone she had talked to in a moment of weakness.
It wasn't Courtney, which surprised Cam. Jaci was closer to Courtney than she had been to her girlhood friends in Oklahoma.
"Annalee was trying to have me thrown out of the party." She kicked her shoes off, revealing the smoky silk hose that covered her toes. "I was merely acknowledging the fact that I had won this round, nothing more. Margaret and Harold Brockheim weren't about to throw me out. It wouldn't be acceptable, after inviting me to begin with."
That was true enough. "Didn't you do some designs for them a few years back?" Chase asked.
She smiled. "A cabin in Colorado. They weren't there. I don't think Margaret trusted me around her husband. I'm a home-wrecker, remember?"
Cam's teeth ground together at the mocking retort. Damn her, he didn't need a reminder of the damage the Robertses had tried to cause her. He was ready to kill them, as it was.
"You're pushing me. I've never in my life killed a man without reason, Jaci, but if I keep seeing the damage Richard Roberts and his wife have done to you, then I might break that little rule."
An edge of panic flared in her eyes, causing him to watch her suspiciously. Why the hell would she care if his wrath fell on Richard Roberts?
"Annalee is a bitch. That's no reason to kill Richard. Besides, neither of them is worth the effort or the cost of a bullet." And before you start threatening others, consider how you affect me everytime you leave me in my bed, alone."
His eyes narrowed as she turned and moved farther away from him, the silk of her gown rustling against the silk that covered her legs. "That bed doesn't define us," he bit out.
"It will soon." The silk of her stocking rasped against her gown as she turned.
He had ordered smoky thigh-highs. Silk. Smoke and fire was the image he had in his mind, and that was the image that met his eyes when he saw her at the party. Jaci was pure stubborn. He knew it. Chase knew it. And Cam was determined to find a way around it.
Cam had to forcibly restrain himself from following after her, from pushing her against the wall, and thrusting as hard and deep inside her as possible. He had wanted her, until it was like a fire in his balls; but seeing her tonight, seeing the confidence and determination in her eyes when he glimpsed her across the ballroom, the challenge she had silently thrown to Annalee and given him as well, it was as though he had always sensed the woman he was seeing now. The hunger that tore at his guts was nearly painful in its intensity. He looked at Chase and acknowledged the fact she might be strong enough to defy him entirely.
This was the woman he had always sensed inside her. The woman that could walk away from him.
He glanced at Chase again, seeing the lust, the obvious anticipation. His brother would fight or fuck, whichever Cam chose in this battle he and Jaci seemed to be waging now. It was going to have to be the latter, because he'd be damned if he could think with this need clawing at his insides.
He swallowed tightly, his fingers going to the buttons of his shirt as he watched her nimble little fingers grip the tab of the zipper at her lower back.
The snug material parted, revealing the silken line of the thong he had bought for her.
He felt his mouth go dry, then water, as she turned to him, gave her shoulders a little shrug, and let the dress slip down her body until it pooled at her feet.
He tore the shirt from his shoulders even as he moved, striding across the room and jerking her into his arms. He heard her gasp as his lips covered hers, and he barely restrained his own primal growl.
She met him hunger for hunger, need for need. Her lips parted, her tongue mingled with his. Slender, silken fingers dove into his hair and pulled, jerking free the dark band that held it back.
His hands were on her ass, gripping the rounded globes and lifting her to him. Long legs wrapped around his hips, the heated folds of her pussy heated his cock, even through the layers of clothing, as he stumbled backward from the pleasure. He kept her in his grip, held her lips with his, and caught himself with his shoulder against the wall.
"Dammit, don't fall," Chase growled. Somehow his brother had actually managed to get in front of them.
Shit. Control. Where the hell was his control? He was going to spank that pretty ass for being so daring. He was going to teach her to follow his lead. But hell, he'd have to release her lips to do that. He'd have to unwrap those gorgeous legs from around his waist, and he just wasn't willing to do that.
He could barely stand to pull his lips away long enough to taste her jaw, her neck, as he struggled to get to the bedroom. He was not going to take her on the fucking couch.
Then she moved. Her legs tightened around his waist, shifted, heat raked across his dick, and he found himself flat on his ass on the couch.
Okay, he could do this here.
He gripped her ass, moved her against his cock, and ran his lips over the upper swells of her breasts. She tasted like the finest sugar, sweet and lickable. Fucking addictive.
When she lifted against him, her legs drawing from behind his back to kneel astride him, her sweet nipples were just below his lips.
Berry ripe. They were tight and hard, tempting him to taste, to savor. How the hell was a man supposed to resist that temptation? A temptation he had denied himself for—how long now?
More than seven years. Long before she had turned twenty-one. He had noticed her when she was a sweet, tender sixteen, and he had known she was going to be his. He hadn't been more than twenty-one or twenty-two himself. He'd been a man for years by then. A soldier moving into the Special Forces. He'd thought he knew what he wanted, thought he knew what life was.
How damned wrong he had been.
This was what life was all about. This woman in his arms, this fire burning inside him, unlike any fire he had ever known in his life.
"In the bed," he groaned, though he couldn't resist those nipples. He licked them, sucked them into his mouth, and made no move to leave the couch.
Behind her, Chase turned her head to the side and lowered his lips to hers as Cam devoured her breasts. They were going to take her. Right here. Right now. They would still that defiant fire raging inside her, then attempt to reason the truth out of her. Maybe.
She was a fire burning through him, and he knew he was lost. This time. This time was going to be hard and fast, he knew it, knew there was no fighting it. He had waited too long this time. This time . . . this time, they'd take her on the damned couch.
He lifted her and bore her back onto the couch as Chase released her, watching as she stretched out beneath Cam, her witchy eyes glittering with passion, with lust, her face flushed with it, her breasts swollen, rising and falling with her quick, hard breaths. Beside the couch, Chase was undressing quickly, his expression a mask of desire and interest, as he watched the battle raging between Cam and Jaci.
Cam tore at his belt, the fastening of his slacks.
He rose long enough, just enough to shed his slacks and underwear and to notice that Chase had done the same, then, kneeling by the couch, he spread Jaci's legs, spread them wide, and ran his fingers over the damp silk, the wet silk that covered the soft swell of her pussy.
He was going to take her hard and deep. But first he was going to taste her one more time. He was going to grow drunk on the passion that flowed from her, from the sweetness and wild tang of her lust.
Jaci stared down her body, seeing the sheen of perspiration over her breasts, her stomach, on Cam's forehead as he touched the panel of silk that covered the aching flesh of her sex.
Where had she gotten the sheer bravado that had overtaken her when she entered the hotel room with Cam and Chase, the wild domination and lust clearly apparent in their gazes? It was as though her common sense had decided to go on vacation and leave only her hormones to guard the bastions of self-preservation. And they weren't the best guards. Hell no, they were jumping up and down, burning inside her veins and begging for more.
"I used to dream of this," she whispered. That seductive siren's voice couldn't be hers. "With nothing but a vibrator or my own fingers for pleasure, I thought of this."
Lassitude swept over her, a weakening sexual intensity that melted inside her pussy, prepared her, and left her shaking in need.
Her breath caught as his gaze lifted to hers. Green fire blazed in his eyes, lust and male force, sending a surge of trepidation tripping through her.
"You're not dreaming now," he assured her.
His fingers gripped the band of the thong and pulled. Just that easily, the thin silk was torn from her body, to be dropped carelessly to the floor.
Jaci arched involuntarily, a cry leaving her throat as he pressed her legs farther apart and his head lowered to the dark auburn curls below.
"You ripped my panties," she breathed out roughly.
"You still have the stockings." His hands smoothed down the silk encasing her legs, as his breath whispered over her damp curls—just as Chase knelt beside the couch, the touch of his lips against her bare shoulder causing her to gasp in pleasure. The sheer sexiness, the eroticism of the moment, was enough to make any woman breathless.
In a burst of courage, hormones, or sheer insanity, she let the fingers of one hand trail from between her breasts to the top of her mound. And they watched. Cam's eyes seemed to glow.
"Touch yourself," he whispered, his voice like black velvet. "Show me how you dreamed of me, sweetheart."
She touched herself, and it was more sexually wicked than it had ever been. She let her fingers part the swollen folds, caress around her engorged clit, and felt fire lance through her womb as they watched.
This was hotter than any fantasy, any dream she could have conjured up.
"You're wet for us, Jaci," he growled, as she parted the folds farther, ran the tip of her finger along the drenched slit. "Sweet and wet. Hold yourself open sweetheart. Let me taste all that sugar."
The sound that slipped past her lips couldn't be her moan. That wild cry of need that echoed in the room as Cam's tongue flickered over her clit, then licked through the shallow valley, couldn't have been hers.
"I need you, Cam." She arched, digging the heel of one foot into the couch, the other into the floor, and lifted herself to his lips, his tongue.
Cam. He was finally here, hotter than her wildest daydream, his lips and tongue taking her, stealing her senses with kiss after kiss, as she dissolved beneath him. And Chase, his lips feathered over a nipple, his tongue licked, and a second later she was crying out in burning need when his lips covered the tip and drew it into his mouth.
With each touch of their tongues, each stroke, each male groan against her flesh, Jaci felt herself flying higher. She forgot to hold herself open, because Cam was doing that for her. One hand slid into his hair to hold her to him while she curled her other arm around Chase's neck to hold him in place as well.
It was exquisite. His lips between her thighs, Chase sucking at her nipple—and still it wasn't enough. Her head tossed, her hips rocked beneath their caresses, and fractured moans tore from her throat.