The Mistresses Collection. Оливия Гейтс

fingertips slid down her bare arm. “If your name’s not Cinderella, I don’t see a problem.”

      “But the night…It went so quickly.”

      “These big family occasions usually do. By the time you get through speaking to everyone, the staff is already tidying up.” Zack ducked a look around her shoulder. “But there is someone you haven’t met yet.”

      He beckoned a man over. Again, the family resemblance couldn’t be mistaken. This must be the eldest brother.

      “Dylan, Trinity Matthews,” Zack said.

      Trinity extended her hand but was a little taken aback when Dylan shook with his left rather than right hand. As the brothers talked, including her in the conversation wherever possible, Trinity couldn’t help noticing Dylan’s right jacket sleeve hung and its flat cuff was tucked into the pocket. He was an amputee? How long ago had the accident happened? Or was it a birth defect?

      A woman joined them, waving a hand full of diamonds. She addressed Trinity.

      “Hi, I’m Rhian, and I’ve come to rescue you from these two. They’ve been known to talk past dawn when they get started.”

      Dylan spoke behind his good hand. “She’s always bossing me around.”

      Rhian play-growled. “Oh, you love it.”

      Dylan shrugged. “She’s right. I do. Are you staying over tonight? We can do breakfast.” He spoke to Trinity. “The kids love Nana’s pancakes.”

      Rhian knuckled her husband’s ribs. “So do you. But we need to say good-night now if we’re going to get up at the crack of dawn.”

      “Do you jog together?” Trinity couldn’t think of another reason—any reason—for getting up that early.

      Dylan explained. “When the sun rises, so does our youngest. Rhian drags herself out of bed Monday through Friday so—rain, hail or shine—I take the weekend shift.”

      They each said good-night and before anyone else could sidle up, Zack took her hand and headed for a doorway. Not the enormous carved-wood arch this time, but a far less ostentatious exit that took them down a dimly lit hall.

      Trotting on his heels, she asked, “Where are we going?”

      “Home.”

      “What do you mean, home?”

      He stopped abruptly and she was pulled up in her tracks. In the shadows, she felt his gaze burning into hers, felt his will reaching out and wrapping around her, strong and warm like a snug cocoon she couldn’t hope to escape.

      “I told you when you arrived,” he murmured dangerously close to her lips. “Tonight you’re staying with me.”

      Trinity balked. And I don’t have a say?

      But when she opened her mouth to object—because she’d always meant to object, hadn’t she?—he took the opportunity, as she should have known he would. He locked an arm around her waist, dragged her near and then he kissed her until the space they occupied was spinning and all thoughts other than submission shot like a round of fireworks out of her mind.

       Twelve

      They went out the back door where his car was parked and waiting. A few minutes down a winding private road then he was opening her passenger side door again and they were hurrying like teenagers into his private villa overlooking the water.

      The moment they were inside and the door was shut, he took her in his arms and, running his hands over her bare shoulders, down her back, he kissed her again like he’d been dying to do all evening. When his mouth finally left hers, his breathing was labored. So was hers.

      “It killed me to play polite host all night and not drag you away sooner.”

      “You were so sure that I’d come.”

      He unclasped the strap at her nape. “I knew I could convince you.”

      When the gown dropped to her feet, her eyes glittered up into his before she stepped out of the silky puddle at her feet and kicked it aside. Naked but for a pair of skimpy silk panties, she smiled like a cat about to get her cream.

      She murmured, “So start convincing.”

      Every drop in his veins heated to a point long past stable. He swept her up off her feet and strode to the main bedroom.

      He’d left instructions for the bed to be turned down and candles to be lit at midnight. She was looking adoringly into his eyes, curving her palm around his cheek as he set her purposefully down on the bed. But unlike the last time, she didn’t lie back quietly. Rather she brought herself upright until she was kneeling on the side of the bed before him. Then she reached up and stud by stud undid his shirt while he tried to keep it together enough to roll his shoulders out of his jacket and tossed it aside. He heeled off his shoes at the same time she concentrated to release the cummerbund then the catch at the top of his trousers.

      And every second, he watched from above… . The way her beautiful body moved and swayed as she worked to undress him. How her soft skilled hands drove up over his bare chest once his shirt was set aside. All night her scent had near driven him wild…light and flowery and at the same time sensual. Sexy. While she’d spoken with guests, he’d imagined her getting ready for tonight, dabbing pulse points with a long, thin stick of perfume…behind her ears, on her wrists, between her breasts, across her bikini line.

      When he stood before her wearing nothing but socks, she crouched in front of him and, without fair warning, guided his heavy erection into her mouth.

      He was no stranger to sex. He’d enjoyed many women and in every way possible. But he’d never been lifted to this bonemelting place before. As her nails dragged up over his scrotum and her head bobbed down farther, he couldn’t be certain he’d last the distance. Closing his eyes, he combed his fingers through her long, silken hair while, second by second, both their movements grew—and to a crucial point where all too soon he had to ease away.

      “I like what you do to me.” He groaned. “In fact, I like it a little too much.”

      Her eyes in the muted light were liquid. Her smile was nothing short of pure sin. As she rolled back, he caught the slim bands of her panties and silently thanked her when she lifted her legs so he could peel them off the rest of the way. When she put out her arms to him, he positioned himself between her open, bent knees. Holding onto her thighs, he drank in the sight of her while the tide inside him swirled and climbed even higher.

      He found the condom wrap on the side table. When he was sheathed, he cupped the back of her neck and claimed another kiss while he pushed forward and at last entered her. He forced himself to go slow and build the rhythm. But the way she was kissing him back—so hungry and deep—it wasn’t long before he was left balanced on the brink. He murmured against her lips, “God, I missed you.”

      “I didn’t think you’d call.”

      “I was an idiot to wait this long.”

      She smiled against his lips. “Your invitation arrived two days after I got back.”

      “Like I said…” He nipped her lower lip. “Too long.”

      When she gripped his hips and wound her legs around the back of his thighs, his every thought and fiber zeroed in on raw, scorching sensation. He felt on fire, inside and out, and as his rhythm increased, she let him know with her sighs and her moves that she was already almost there, too.

      The burn was too good. Her mouth nibbling his, too sweet. As she began to tremble and clutch around him, Zack’s mind fogged then went a perfect high-pitched blank. The earth began to shudder as he stilled, and in that stellar, precise fragment in time, he knew.

      If