The Winner Takes It All Read online

  Heat climbed up Cecilia’s chest.

  Shane drained the rest of his drink before smirking. “Oh, I’m taking care of her, all right.”

  It was wrong. Very wrong. But the laughter bubbled inside her. She stared down at the floor and recited the Gettysburg Address in her head to keep from giggling.

  Harper cleared her throat. “When’s Maddie’s wedding?”

  “Next week.”

  “I’m happy for her,” Harper said politely.

  Shane was like a compulsion and Cecilia couldn’t help raising her gaze to meet his eyes.

  So hot. So intent. She shivered. She wanted to be alone with him. Needed him away from Miles and Harper.

  The silence turned awkward, but still she couldn’t look away.

  Harper jingled her drink glass, snapping Cecilia from the spell. Expression wry, Harper shook her head at Shane and Cecilia before turning to Miles. “I could use a refill.” She smiled pointedly. “Can I accompany you to the bar?”

  Cecilia wanted to kiss her in gratitude.

  Miles was old-school polite and wasn’t in a position to say no without looking rude. He peered down at Cecilia. “What can I get you, dear?”

  Cecilia said, “Champagne would be lovely, thank you.”

  Miles narrowed his gaze on Shane. “Donovan?”

  He flicked a glance at Harper. “She knows what I’m drinking.”

  “Very well.” Mouth pursed in a firm line, he touched Cecilia’s elbow. “Are you sure you won’t accompany us?”

  Wild horses couldn’t drag her from this spot. “No, I’m fine, thank you.”

  Harper took Miles’s arm and tugged him away. Miles gave Cecilia a stern look of disapproval before leaving her alone with Shane.

  Cecilia’s smile was polite, while inside desire churned hot. “You’re right, I do like her.”

  Shane’s eyes narrowed and he took a step toward her, crowding her space. “Where’s the rest of your dress?”

  Cecilia smoothed a hand over her abdomen. “Don’t you like it?”

  “Turn around.” His tone was hard and commanding.

  She pivoted in a slow circle.

  “It has no back.”

  And barely a front. “I was feeling daring.”

  He took another step toward her, his green eyes piercing.

  They were too close. Anyone observing them would see the intimacy between them. She should step back, but couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

  His gaze locked on hers, dipping to her mouth for a moment, then down her body like a caress. “With the way I’m feeling, you’re lucky I don’t take ahold of you right now and show every single person in this room I know exactly how to take care of you.”

  The possession in his tone thrilled her to the very tips of her toes. “Does that mean you like it?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?” Her breath came fast, and the rational part of her brain told her to put a stop to this, but her senses had taken leave. She found she liked rousing Shane’s primitive instincts.

  “Did you wear it for me?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice dropping down to an intimate whisper.

  “Meet me in the bird exhibit in ten minutes.” His fingers flexed as he named the ancient, least exciting, farthest exhibit away from the main action. “That’s bound to be deserted.”

  She nodded. All her senses heightened to hyperaware as she anticipated being alone with him. Somewhere secluded. And free.

  “I’m in a dangerous mood, Cecilia. Be prepared.” His head dipped and his voice lowered. “You’re not going to look the same when you come out.”

  By the time Cecilia showed, Shane felt like a caged lion. He grabbed her, pushed her into the first alcove he found and then his mouth was on hers.

  His hands were everywhere. Sliding over silk and skin.

  She tangled her fingers in his hair, moaning against his lips as his tongue plunged into her.

  It was a mean kiss. A kiss filled with all sorts of dirty promises.

  It enflamed him until he was like a feral beast, ready to drag her to the floor and claim her in the most primal way possible.

  He cupped her breast and squeezed her nipple until she jerked against him.

  It was too much. Too fast. Too dangerous. But he could not get enough. He shoved her hard against the wall, reaching under the slit of her dress and palming her silk-covered mound. He ground the heel of his hand against her clit until she rocked beneath him.

  He tore his mouth away and gripped her throat as he rotated his hand. “This is mine. Nobody touches you but me.”

  Her head fell back against the wall as her hips moved. “Yes, yes.”

  It was like he was caught in some sort of primal, lust-filled fever. “Say my name.”

  “Shane,” she moaned, and he slipped his fingers under her panties to find her wet and ready for him.

  “Do you want my cock?”

  She reached for him, her palm stroking over his erection. “Yes. It’s all I can think about.”

  He plunged inside her hot, tight center, first one finger, then two, catching her cries with his lips, then skimming down her throat to suck the sensitive skin on her neck.

  Marking her.

  Her fingers worked his zipper, slipping inside to grip him in a tight hold. He groaned, pumping his fingers in and out of her swollen core, loving when her body quickened and her muscles clamped down.

  “Shane. Jesus.” She pulled him down, demanding, and his mouth claimed hers.

  Their breath rose and fell in a harsh wave as he devoured her with a kiss so raw, so dirty he may as well have been pounding into her right then and there. With a low growl, he pulled away, working her clit with his thumb until she was on the very brink of orgasm. “I am going to fuck the hell out of you later. Nothing and no one is going to stop me. You’re going to be sore for a week. You’re not going to be able to walk without thinking of my cock inside you.”

  She came. Just like he knew she would.

  Her body clamped down on his fingers in hard, rhythmic waves of release. He kissed her, capturing her cries until he wrung the last contraction out of her and she went limp.

  She blinked up at him, her eyes dazed, her cheeks flushed. He pumped one more time, and then left the warm haven of her body, the primal fury still beating in his blood. His fingers glistened and he met her gaze, then, very slowly, painted her lips.

  She gasped, her pupils dilating as he rubbed her lower lip before raising his hand and sucking his fingers clean. The taste of her clinging to him was pure torture, but damned worth it. He lowered his head. “You smell and look like sex. And for the rest of the night that’s all you’re going to be able to think about.”

  She let out a long breath. Eyes still glassy, she gripped his shaft in a tight squeeze. “I want to suck your cock.”

  Shocked, he jerked. She’d never said anything so overt.

  She rose to her tiptoes and whispered in his ear, “That’s what I’m going to be thinking about. Because I am going to drop to my knees for you.”

  He closed his eyes, picturing her on her knees before him. He took a deep breath, fighting to control the ache in his body that demanded right now. “Baby, whatever you want, it’s yours.”

  “All I want”—she gave him a long stroke that nearly sent him over the edge—“is you.”

  Dinner was a dreadful ordeal. Cecilia couldn’t wait to be done with the whole thing.

  The quick, powerful orgasm in that private alcove with Shane had left her shaken, her worldview altered, and she hadn’t recovered since.

  The climax had done nothing to take the edge off.

  She was more aroused than ever. Every nerve ending seemed on fire, agitated and needy. Her skin was hot, tight to the touch. Nipples painfully hard, rubbing against the silk of her dress and reminding her of Shane’s tongue dragging across her flesh that night in the woods. Between her thighs, she ached, so swollen and wet every shift of her legs made her have to bite the
inside of her cheek to keep from moaning. With every breath she caught the faint scent of sex and Shane, and it worked her into a near fevered pitch.

  Unable to help herself, her gaze drifted to where he sat several tables over. She clenched her hands under the table, her nails digging into her skin. Tux jacket unbuttoned, shoulders impossibly wide, he leaned back in his chair.

  Gooseflesh broke over her skin. He was just so gorgeous.

  Like they’d developed a type of sixth sense, he lifted his head, his gaze locking on hers.

  Mine, mine, mine. The words pulsing like a heartbeat between them.

  And she felt it, deep down in her belly. His possession. His utter hold on her. Shane captured her so completely she didn’t know how she’d ever let him go.

  His arm rested on the table, and very slowly he rubbed his thumb and two fingers together in a slow, rhythmic circle that held her transfixed. She flushed. Nipples puckered even tighter as she shivered. Her breath came in short quick bursts. She couldn’t stop watching, remembering how he’d thrust his fingers hard and fast inside her, almost forcing her to orgasm.

  “Cecilia.” The sharp jab of her name on Miles’s lips ripped her attention away.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her dinner companions coming into focus.

  Miles gave her a slight frown. “Mrs. Winston asked you if we’d set the date yet.”

  She plastered a smile on her face, rubbing her ring finger where Miles’s engagement ring sat heavy and wrong on her hand. A reminder she’d chosen the wrong path and now had to figure out how to fix it. “No, not yet, but we’re thinking next spring.” It sounded good.

  “You make a lovely couple,” Mrs. Charles Winston the third said before her gaze dipped to Cecilia’s plunging neckline, her wrinkled lips pursed in disapproval.

  “Why, thank you,” she said in her sweetest, most serene voice.

  Across from her, Buffy Thompson, a regular on the social circuit, smirked. “What an interesting dress.”

  Like most of them, she’d married for money and status over love. At least twenty-five years her senior, her husband sat next to her. His gaze drifted to Cecilia’s cleavage and Buffy frowned. Her sly, shifty gaze raked over Cecilia with a scorn she was unable to express through her Botoxed, frozen face and implanted cheeks.

  Cecilia had a sudden urge to say, You know, all that plastic surgery makes you look all sorts of fucked up.

  Yep, Shane was wearing off on her.

  They’d be stunned. Gape at her with their mouths open like fish out of water. The devious thought brought a smile to her lips, and she wished she sat here with Shane, who’d understand how ridiculous these people were.

  Instead, she said politely, “It’s from a little boutique on State. I went shopping this afternoon and fell in love with it.”

  The dress was nothing like her. She stuck to the basics for these events, black and gray with severe lines and classic cuts. Nothing too revealing. Nothing too sexy. Nothing too eye-catching, so she’d blend into the crowd.

  But she hadn’t been able to resist when she’d seen it. It flowed over her body in the most daring and provocative way. All she could think of was the look on Shane’s face when he’d seen her.

  Her attention drifted back to him. Their gazes locked before she looked away.

  The dress had been worth it.

  Even though every other person in the room hated it.

  Buffy shifted in her seat, shoving up her own inflated cleavage in the process. “I’ve never been there.”

  “You should go,” Cecilia said, resisting the urge of Shane. “The owner is quite lovely. She designed the dress herself.”

  Buffy’s nose wrinkled. “I stick to only the top house designers myself.”

  Cecilia flashed her most polite smile. “They look darling on you.”

  This had to be the most boring conversation she’d ever had while someone was trying to insult her in that subtle, oh so sophisticated way they had.

  Her brow furrowed. Was she any better? She’d never been one to trade insults unless provoked, but she hadn’t stopped them either. How many women had she quietly dismissed because they didn’t look proper enough? Or stuck out in a crowd? How many times had she rolled her eyes at abandoned displays of affection?

  Was this the kind of woman she wanted to be? How she wanted to live her life? Full of thinly veiled barbs and insults disguised as wit, breaking people down instead of building them up?

  Maddie and her friends weren’t like that. Sure, they teased and joked around, but their affection and loyalty were clear. They loved and supported each other. They liked each other. They were real.

  Wasn’t that better? More desirable?

  Before she could think any more about it, the chairwoman of the evening went to the podium and started speaking, thanking everyone for their generous donations and making the night a success.

  She beamed and held out her hands like a car show spokesmodel. “And please welcome Mr. Shane Donovan, who not only personally donated a hundred thousand dollars, he also generously matched all his employees’ contributions. Without his continued support for the underprivileged in this community, there would be a lot more needy kids out there.”

  Polite applause filled the room and Cecilia had to resist the urge to stand up and cheer him on. He buttoned his jacket then made his way to the podium. She was filled with a pride she had no right to but couldn’t contain.

  The room quieted and Cecilia experienced an irrational stirring of nerves. Other than his sister’s engagement party, she’d never seen him speak. She clenched her hands in her lap.

  His gaze sought her out in the room and his lips lifted in a small, secret smile when he spotted her and her stomach eased.

  “Thank you,” he said, his low rumble filling the speakers and making her shiver.

  “As most of you know, I didn’t grow up with money. Like a lot of working-class families in Chicago, we lived paycheck to paycheck. But I didn’t know what poor was until my dad died in a car accident that left my sister in a coma. We had no health insurance. Hospital bills quickly became overwhelming, and I remember the frustration I felt because I couldn’t get her the best care. I didn’t have access to the top doctors in brain injuries, or hospitals with state-of-the-art equipment. We were lucky—my sister got better, but many families aren’t so blessed.”

  He smiled, completely charming, and her heart swelled. “For a lot of families, the difference between excellent care and mediocre care is the difference between life and death.”

  Behind him, a picture of a little African-American boy filled the screen. He was bald, and his huge, melting-chocolate eyes were haunting. The mere sight of him had Cecilia itching to go to her checkbook and write an additional donation. “This is Tyler, who was diagnosed with a rare form of leukemia. The free clinic doctor told his parents he had less than a year to live and there was nothing to be done.”

  He was beyond articulate, his speech well modulated and polished. Compassion and warmth rang in his tone as he continued to talk. “But thanks to the programs made possible by people like you, Tyler had the best care money could buy and is now in remission.”

  He talked for ten more minutes. With every minute that passed, her heart swelled and she fell for him just a little bit more.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Shane drove to Harper’s house, forcing himself to maintain a reasonable speed. His mind was so preoccupied with getting to Cecilia, he hadn’t said more than five words.

  Next to him, Harper sighed. “She’s getting married, you know.”

  Over his dead body. He debated arguing the point but abandoned the idea. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She laughed. “You don’t think that’s fooling anyone, do you? Miles Fletcher would have to be deaf, blind, and dumb to miss that there’s something going on between you and Cecilia Riley.”

  Satisfaction settled in his gut. Good, because Miles couldn’t have her. She was his. He�
��d decided, and when he put his mind to something there was nothing that would stop him, no obstacle he wouldn’t overcome. But Harper didn’t need to know that. “We’re living in the same house; any familiarity you’re picking up on is because of proximity.”

  “Whatever,” Harper said, tone filled with disbelief. “I never thought you’d go for someone like her.”

  Shane jerked his head, narrowing his eyes. “What do you mean, like her?”

  “She’s a socialite. Although she’s quite beautiful, I always thought you’d pick a woman with substance.”

  Anger rose to a quick boil. He clenched the steering wheel. “You don’t know the first thing about her.”

  “I know enough. Enough to know she’s not like us.”

  The light turned red and when the car came to a stop he turned toward her. “What do you mean?”

  Harper’s red lips parted in the glow of the streetlights, closed, then opened again. “It’s hard for people like us. We don’t really fit in anywhere. The people we grew up with, still working their trade jobs, resent us. The people we socialize with now look down on us because we didn’t grow up with money. We’re nomads.”

  The light changed to green and he sped up, wanting her out of the car. There was truth to her statement, but he’d never cared much about acceptance. He had the respect of the people who mattered, and that was good enough. “I don’t give a shit about belonging.”

  He pulled over to the side of her building and didn’t bother throwing the car into park, making it clear he wasn’t staying. Harper twisted in her seat, a frown on her lips. “I’m only saying this because I care about you and don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I’m fine, Harper.” He glanced pointedly toward the door.

  Expression creased with concern, she pushed open the door. She started to get out but then turned and looked over her shoulder. “Don’t kid yourself, Shane. You might not care what people think, but women like Cecilia Riley sure as hell do. Don’t ever forget that.”

  By the time Shane reached Cecilia’s house he’d blocked out his conversation with Harper. He didn’t care what Harper believed. She didn’t know Cecilia.