The Winner Takes It All Page 15

  He fell into a quick tempo waltz that Cecilia glided into as though they’d been dance partners for years.

  Under the rim of his hat, he was quite good-looking with his tanned skin, high cheekbones, and full, masculine mouth. He didn’t make her heart beat fast like Shane, but his brown eyes were warm instead of cold, looking at her with interest instead of distrust. Big hands pressed into the small of her back. Lazy in his charm, he smiled at her. “Name’s Levi.”

  She thought about protesting. But why should she? It was just a dance. She relaxed into his embrace. “Cecilia.”

  He leaned down. Close enough the brim of his hat touched her forehead. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. You’re not from around here, are you?”

  She shook her head. “I’m from Chicago.”

  His hand slid tighter around her waist. “Well, Cecilia, you sure don’t move like a city girl.”

  It might be the best compliment she’d ever received in her life and she beamed at him. “Why, thank you.”

  “Hands. Off,” a deep, unmistakable voice said from behind her. “Now.”

  Heart lurching into a frantic beat, she craned her neck. It wasn’t the drinks making her delusional. Shane was really there. Big and mean, as though he was ready to pound the first person that crossed him.

  She shivered. “What are you doing here?”

  “Yeah,” Levi said, pulling her closer. “Back off, buddy.”

  Shane crossed his arms, his biceps rippling, pumping up before her very eyes to strain the fabric of his black T-shirt. “I’m going to give you to the count of three before I break every one of your fucking fingers.”

  She tried her best to work up some proper indignation over his behavior but couldn’t make it stick. Not with that twisted sense of female satisfaction warming her, going straight to her head and making her dizzy. He was jealous.

  Like, super jealous. Dangerously jealous.

  A giggle bubbled in her throat and she repressed it. That was wrong. Very wrong. The correct response was outrage, but damned if her body cared about that. Deep down, in that secret part of her, she was thrilled. Nobody had ever been jealous over her before.

  She looked at the guy, what was his name again? She searched her memory and finally remembered. “Levi, can you excuse us?”

  Levi let her go. “Is he your boyfriend?”

  She started to say no but Shane grabbed her arm. “Yes, don’t touch her again. Got it, buddy?”

  In surrender, Levi held up his hands. “Sorry, dude, we were just dancing. Maybe she shouldn’t move like that if you don’t want people to get the wrong idea.”

  Move like what?

  Shane grunted, gripping her arm tighter. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

  Cecilia blinked, finally coming back from her ego-drunk daze enough to allow feminism to take its hold. “Hey!”

  “Don’t test me, Cecilia,” Shane said, his voice hard. And then he had her on the move, practically dragging her toward the door.

  “Shane!” she yelled over the loud music, but he didn’t seem to hear her. He bulldozed past anyone in his way, striding with single-minded focus toward the exit.

  He pushed through the heavy barn doors and dragged her outside. Mild spring air hit her cheeks and the Jägerbombs rushed in her head. Danger and lust spiked the air as he stalked through the parking lot and around the corner to the side of the building.

  A couple was already there, locked in a hot embrace. He cursed, veered around them, and walked straight into the woods that lined the property.

  “Shane, what’s wrong with you? What are you doing?” Branches crunched under her feet as he pounded through the forest.

  When he came to a large oak, he pushed her against it, his expression thunderous. “What am I doing? What are you doing, Cecilia?”

  His gaze was predatory, exciting and scaring her at the same time. A strange and delicious cocktail of emotions that made her pulse beat fast and wild. “I was dancing!”

  “No shit,” Shane said, his stance aggressive. “Quite a show you were putting on there.”

  “I wasn’t putting on a show.”

  “The hell you weren’t.” He raked his hand through his hair. “Fuck, Cecilia, half the men in the place stopped what they were doing to watch you.”

  She waved a hand. “Don’t be absurd. You’re just jealous.”

  He stalked toward her, crowding her against the tree. “You’re damn right I’m jealous.”

  She blinked. “You admit it.”

  Big hands gripped her hips, holding her still. “It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

  Her breath quickened. He was so close. Closer than she’d ever thought he’d be again and she couldn’t resist the temptation of him. She ran her hands up his arms, bowing her back in offering. “Yes.”

  “Jesus.” His thumb pressed on the pulse pounding in her throat. “How much have you had to drink?”

  She bit her lip. “A lot.”

  The anger seemed to roll off of him as his eyelids hooded. He groaned and brushed the shell of her ear with his lips. “So I can’t fuck you against this tree.”

  Body clenching at his words, her head thumped on the trunk. “Do you always talk this dirty?”

  He bit her earlobe, pulling on the sensitive flesh with his teeth. “You bring out the worst in me.”

  “Lucky me.” She twined her fingers through his hair.

  “Do you have any idea how much I want you right now?” Voice low and thick with sex, the question stirred the fine hairs at the nape of her neck.

  She shook her head.

  “Enough that I don’t trust myself to stop.”

  She arched, rubbing against his erection. Thrilled when his breath caught on a hiss. “Who says I want you to stop?”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Do you have to pick now to be a temptress?”

  “What’s wrong with now?” She actually puffed out her bottom lip in a pout—something she’d often bemoaned about other women and here she was, pulling the same trick.

  And she didn’t have any conflict about it.

  Not when his eyes turned that particular shade of green.

  “I will not take you against a tree while you’re drunk.”

  How disappointing. Of course, she should have counted on that. The man clearly had a hero complex. “Are you done being mad at me?”

  “For what?”

  She frowned. The list was quite lengthy at the moment. Best to focus on the minor stuff for the time being. “For dancing?”

  “No.” The word sounded flat, but she detected the barest hint of amusement. Although that might be the alcohol making her hopeful.

  “All right.” She’d had fantasies that played out like this. Tying Shane Donovan up in jealous knots, driving him crazy. It was so unlike her. So different from who she was normally, but she was drunk enough to play it out. She stood on tiptoes and stretched into him like a cat. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

  “Never dance again. I don’t think I can take it.” He pressed his erection against her stomach.

  She wrapped herself around him and his arms twined around her waist. She nuzzled his neck, licking over his rapid pulse.

  He growled, low in his throat like an animal, and it excited some deep-rooted, female part of her. “Cecilia,” he said, his voice a rasp against her skin. “You’re playing with fire. I’m feeling dangerous.”

  She nipped his jaw.

  In a flash, he shoved her against the tree, his big body trapping hers.

  Oh yes, this was what she wanted. What she needed.

  He gripped her chin and forced her eyes to meet his. “Cecilia, pay attention. Once I start, I’m not going to be able to stop. You’re going to get screwed, out in the woods, against a tree. Tomorrow, you’ll wake up with scrapes on your back. I’ll mark you. Bite your neck. Bruise your wrists. Take you so hard, your pussy will be swollen and sore. So this stops now. Understood?”

  Cecilia understood he was tr
ying to talk sense into her, but his little speech had the opposite effect. She about melted into a puddle at his feet.

  And she wanted it all. Was wet with desire. The temptress was in full force, unwilling to be dissuaded. She wanted him crazy. So she said the one thing she thought would make him throw caution to the wind. “You know the other night? That first night?”

  His head snapped back and his brow furrowed. “Yeah.”

  She met his eyes. “I came.”

  “Ah, fuck.” And then he was on her.

  His mouth claimed hers in a hard, brutal rush.

  It was an onslaught.

  A possession.

  And she gave in. Surrendering as she’d never surrendered to anything in her whole life.

  His tongue stroked hers, demanding. She moaned, licking into him as she climbed up him, needing closer. Harder. Needing to feel like his.

  She hooked her leg over his hip. Adjusted her body until his cock nudged the sweet spot between her legs. On a low, animal-sounding growl, he thrust violently against her, slamming her into the tree and scraping her back, just as he promised.

  He stilled.

  Desperate, she rocked back, moaning. “Please, yes. Shane.”

  “Goddamn it,” he said against her mouth. Kissing her with the type of primal brutality she’d never dreamed of but now knew she couldn’t live without. He lifted his head. “You’re going to make this up to me.”

  Drugged with passion, she lifted her heavy lids. “Whatever you want.”

  He manacled her wrists, lifting them above her head. “That is a dangerous thing to promise.”

  “Can’t you tell?” She bit his bottom lip. “I’m a woman on the edge.”

  “Christ, Cecilia.” Then his mouth covered hers and he kissed her until she gasped for breath.

  He moved down her throat, biting her neck, then licked and sucked until she practically purred. She twisted, her breath a fast rise and fall that matched the frantic beat of her heart. “Please, Shane, I want to touch you.”

  In answer, his grip on her wrists tightened, while his other hand slid under her shirt to cup her breast. He unclasped the bra with one deft hand and peeled back the cups. He rubbed a thumb over her exposed nipple, circling it over and over again until she bowed from the excruciating pleasure.

  He didn’t let up.

  Didn’t stop.

  He rolled the hard bud, pulled and twisted until her belly coiled tight.

  “Shane,” she whispered, gasping when he squeezed hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. A sharp ache speared through her core and her inner muscles clenched and throbbed. “Oh God, Shane.” A broken plea.

  Deep in her belly, need coiled tight.

  So. Damn. Tight.

  She cried out. Afraid she was going to break in two. On the precipice of some sort of cliff she was too afraid to throw herself off.

  He let go of her wrists. She clutched at his shoulders, digging her nails deep into the cotton of his shirt. The bark of the tree scraped her skin as he yanked her top over her breasts and cupped them both in his strong hands.

  It was exquisite torture.

  She keened, her back arching. It was too much. He was only touching her breasts, but he was doing so much more. He was shattering something inside her. Pushing her to a place unknown.

  Fear, desire, and need coalesced, making her feel desperate and out of control, thrown headlong out of her comfort zone and into panic. “Shane, please . . .”

  His teeth scraped against the skin of her neck. He moved lower, pushing her breasts closer together. He played and toyed with her nipples the way nobody else had ever come close to doing, before sucking first one, then the other, into his mouth.

  He licked, sucked, rolled his tongue over her hypersensitive flesh. He nudged his cock right up against her clit and rocked at the same moment he bit the tip of one nipple while squeezing the other one.

  A desperate, needy moan from deep in her throat.

  His fingers slipped inside the waistband of her jeans, dipping lower and lower, the stretch fabric of the denim allowing him access. She splayed her legs wide.

  Lifting his head, he groaned, sliding inside her with first one, then two fingers. “Do you know how wet you are?”

  She shook her head.

  He withdrew his hand, and painted her lower lip with her own juices, shocking her. Her eyes went wide and he smiled before leaning in and tasting her lips. It was the most erotic thing anyone had ever done to her.

  Her knees buckled and he caught her, making sure she was steady while he worked down her zipper. “I’m going to take you hard and fast. That’s what I need.”

  “Yes,” she said against his mouth.

  Strong fingers slid inside her panties, rubbing her clit until her head fell back and she gasped with the pleasure. Thumb still circling the bundle of nerves, he dipped inside, hooking his finger and rubbing a spot that made her jolt with sensation. “Oh God!”

  He laughed. “There’s what I’m looking for.”

  She grabbed his wrist, but he gently pushed her hand away.

  It was so intense. So . . . Jesus . . . she didn’t know. It was like being ripped apart by pleasure. “Shane. Fuck. Shane.”

  He hit something and she couldn’t help it, she screamed.

  He kissed her, rubbing that spot, over and over again, until she thought she might go mad.

  She started to fight it. It was too damn much.

  A soft whisper in her ear, “Let go, Cecilia.”

  And she did.

  The orgasm rushed over her like a railroad train, barreling through her defenses and battering into her with a shock that bordered on violent.

  She started to cry. She didn’t know where the tears came from but once they started to fall she couldn’t stop them. The spasms still wracking her body, she buried her face in his neck.

  “Shhh, you’re okay.” Voice unbearably soft as he stroked her hair.

  Despite the orgasm and the tears, she didn’t want to stop. She needed him inside her. To fill her. Here, tonight, she needed to belong to him. She lifted her head and met his gaze. “Take me.”

  He brushed away her tears as his fingers slipped from her body. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “I don’t know.” The words a mere whisper.

  “Cecilia,” he said, voice so thick it was almost unrecognizable. “Why are you getting married?”

  All that heat and desire cooled in an instant as reality dropped like a bucket of ice over her head. She blinked back the swell of tears. “Please don’t ask me.”

  Green eyes darkened, flashed, then shuddered closed. He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a hard breath. “Tell me.”

  Why? Why was he doing this now with the orgasm still trembling in her body and her need for him so desperate? She pressed her lips together.

  He sighed, pulled down her T-shirt and stepped away. “I can’t do this. Won’t do it.”

  Anger she wasn’t entitled to boiled hot inside her. “I thought you said you wouldn’t be able to stop.”

  He looked away, off into the trees to some distant spot behind her. “I thought I couldn’t, but then I remembered you’re getting married and won’t tell me why.”

  He was right. Of course, he was right. She nodded. “I understand.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes,” she said, tugging down her top over the V of her jeans, still open and exposed to him. He was so close. And she needed him. Selfishly needed him. Something inside her couldn’t tell him the truth.

  He shook his head. “All you need to do is tell me the truth. Because I know damn well you’re not marrying for love.”

  “Why does it matter?” She pulled up her zipper with a hard yank. The alcohol coursing through her bloodstream betrayed her, sending her emotions spiraling downward at warp speed.

  “Marriage matters, Cecilia,” he said, his voice so soft it sent a shiver down her spine. He gripped her chin and forced her gaze to meet his. “I
want the truth. It’s that simple.”

  She pulled away and stepped around him, crossing her arms over her chest and walking at a brisk pace toward the bar.

  In her experience that wasn’t how the truth worked. If she told him her plans and reasons, he’d just try to talk her out of it.

  She wasn’t ready for that conversation. Wasn’t strong enough. If she talked now he’d learn the truth: she didn’t know who she was anymore.

  And the truth scared her more than she could ever admit.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Shane watched Cecilia walk through the bar, her spine rigid as a ruler. He dragged a hand through his hair and cursed himself for the hundredth time.

  What had he been thinking? Stopping like that?

  He could be inside her right now, but no, he had to go and prove a point. He’d been half crazy with lust, desperate to take her, but then she’d looked at him with those huge, watery, storm-filled eyes and the words had popped out.

  And he wanted the truth. Needed her to tell him the truth. Which bothered him on some visceral level.

  Three steps ahead, her fine ass swayed in too-tight jeans as she stalked through the bar like she owned the place.

  He’d never thought it would be like that with her. Yes, they’d had chemistry, but hell, how could he have guessed? With all those severe business suits she wore, he’d thought she’d need coaxing. That he’d have to work to make her mindless and crazy.

  But it hadn’t been anything like that. She’d been as crazy and wild as he was.

  He shuddered, remembering the way she’d orgasmed almost violently.

  The way she came, it would haunt him forever.

  She tossed her hair over her shoulder and every guy in the room took notice. Who could blame them? Despite her anger, everything about her had loosened. From the wild tumble of waves swinging around her shoulders, to her swollen mouth and rich-girl walk. It transformed her from classically beautiful to drop-dead gorgeous.

  Their hungry gazes ate her up and Shane wanted to tattoo something across her forehead so they’d stop staring.

  The unfamiliar possessiveness beat at his chest, worrying him. He’d never been jealous before. It must be the case of the blue balls riding him hard. That his predicament was entirely of his own making wasn’t lost on him.