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Green eyes fixed on him like a woman who knew what she wanted.
“Lark.” He’d need her help if he was going to resist her for even five more minutes. Every inch closer she came, the thinner his restraint stretched. “I’m trying my damnedest to be a gentleman—”
“Please stop,” she ordered, laying her palm on his chest, right over the place where his heart pounded a demand only she could meet. She tilted her chin up to meet his eyes while she walked her fingers lower. “I’m not here for the gentleman tonight. After the day that I’ve had, I want the best player in the game who smokes through every defense to get to the goal.”
Heat streaked through him so fast it left scorch marks. Possessiveness surged along with fiery need.
Wrapping his arms around her, he pressed her against him. Lifted her so her feet dangled off the ground.
At the feel of full body contact—even through the layers of their clothes—his breathing accelerated. He dipped his head to her neck to taste her there, the skin bared thanks to her braid.
“You taste so good,” he said against her skin, his fingers flexing to cup her ass, molding her to him. “I need you so much.”
Her fingers speared into his hair. Stroking. Petting. Driving him out of his head.
“I need you, too.” She arched her back in a way that tilted her breasts up, demanding his attention. “What’s the code so we can get in?”
She stretched a hand toward the security screen by the door while he debated the fastest way to bare her breasts.
“Our wedding anniversary,” he informed her, the answer blared into his brain now, as if all his system functions operated at her command. “Eight digits.”
“You’re not supposed to use dates people can guess,” she chided even as she punched in the numbers.
After a series of beeps, the code cleared and the door unlocked. He never lifted his head from where he kissed his way down Lark’s neck, however, he just heard the electronic cue in the back of his consciousness.
“I’ll change it tomorrow,” he promised, the scent of her lavender soap stronger as he nudged open the neckline of her dress to kiss the soft swell above her bra cup. “Right now, I have a goal.”
Shivers raced over her.
Lark had deliberately put herself at this man’s mercy and the result was every bit as tantalizing as she knew it would be. Gibson Vaughn unleashed was a power to behold. Stark male strength and raw masculine appeal made him a formidable bed partner.
Tomorrow she would contend with the complications of this night. For now, she needed one more time in his arms, one more chance to experience the way he could make her forget everything but pleasure. No one else had ever possessed that power for her, and she feared no one else ever could again.
So by the time he shoved his way inside the cabin and locked the door behind them, she was almost dizzy with lust while he strode through the foyer with her in his arms. The erection swelling against her was impossible to ignore, the heat and length of him branding into her belly. And of course, his mouth did wicked things to her breast, his tongue flicking beneath the satin of her bra cup to tease close to her nipple.
“Gibson,” she panted his name as she shifted against him, needing more. Wanting everything. “Just to be clear, your goal is to be inside me, I hope?”
He lifted his head to meet her gaze, his pupils dilated so that the brown ring around them was barely visible. Around them, she grew vaguely aware of the high ceilings and open floor plan where weathered woods in gray and sandy tones dominated the space. A lamp glowed on the big plank mantel of a floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace, the golden glow the only illumination save the pink shades of sunlight from the waning day slanting through big windows.
“You thought wrong.” Setting her on her feet again, he shifted his attention to the gaping neckline of her dress where he’d been kissing her moments before. Hooking a finger into the placket, he began unfastening the buttons, his work-roughened knuckle grazing first one breast and then the other. “My first goal is bringing you pleasure.”
Her knees buckled as she questioned the ability of her legs to support her through whatever he had in mind.
“Thatwouldbring me pleasure,” she argued weakly, her words breathy and ineffectual since she swayed on her feet at his touch. Her fingers scrabbled against the expensive cotton of his dress shirt, his jacket from court long ago discarded.
Beneath her palms, she could feel the muscles of his arms working as he continued to slip her buttons free. Her nipples tightened unbearably against the satin of her bra.
He shook his head, his expression resolute. “It’s been too long since I’ve touched you. Being inside you again is going to rip away my control, and I can’t allow that until after you reach your peak at least once.”
A hungry, helpless sound rose from her throat. How was it he could turn her into this needy creature at just a touch? His cedar and sandalwood scent intensified as his skin warmed. Or maybe it was the pine of the cabin walls that teased her nose with every breath.
“I want that, too,” she admitted, her own fingers clumsier than his as she unfastened his belt, the smooth leather slipping in her grip. “But maybe hurry? Because I want you to feel good, too.”
His eyes were molten as they fixed on hers. “I already feel better than I have for over two years.”
While she tried to absorb that, Gibson walked her backward through the great room, steering her to a far corner of the cabin. Her feet stalled a little when her boots shuffled from smooth plank flooring to a throw rug, and he plucked her off her feet again, carrying her the rest of the way to a first-level bedroom suite.
More muted colors surrounded them, whitewashed grays, tans and cream. The room contained little beyond a bed and a fireplace that was bracketed by French doors on either side. He strode with purpose to the bed but didn’t lay her on it. Instead, he set her on her feet and peeled off the dress he’d already unfastened, leaving her in her boots and underthings.
