Wanton. Lori Foster

“gut instinct” right now, and it was telling her that Hannah Barrington was in big trouble and Celia was her only hope. She couldn’t, wouldn’t turn her back on Hannah now, no matter what. If she did give up on the twenty-year-old girl, she’d never again be able to face herself in the mirror. But she was smart enough to know her chances of actually helping Hannah would be much better if Alec lent his expertise. Getting him to do that would be tricky.

      Especially if she killed him first.

      When they reached the landing and circled to her room, Alec turned to face her. He reached for her purse and Celia knew a physical struggle would be pointless. He was coming in and since she hoped to convince him to help her, she didn’t want to cause a fuss about it. Still, she snatched her purse out of his reach and glared at him. “I’ll get the key. Just hold on a second.”

      He was impatient, looming over her as if he expected her to pull out a gun instead. Ha! If she had one, she would already have hit him over the head with it. Celia thrust the key into his hand and said at the same time, “I can’t believe your gall. How would you like it if I broke into your home?”

      He swung the door open and reached inside for a light. His voice was pitched low, with a husky drawl. “Anytime you want to visit my place, honey, you just let me know. The invitation is always open.”

      Celia sputtered, annoyed at what she was sure was another sexual reference. Then the light spilled over them and Alec could suddenly see into her room.

      For once his look was comical rather than terrorizing. “What the hell?”

      Celia peeked around his shoulder, and flinched. She’d forgotten that she’d left the room in such cluttered disarray. The room’s dingy carpeting could barely be seen for the objects covering it. Alec slowly turned to stare down at her, one black brow quirked high. “What the hell have you been up to?”

      “Exercising?” Her voice emerged as an embarrassed squeak. The personal goals she’d set for herself were just that—personal. She didn’t want anyone, especially Alec, to know about them.

      He blinked twice, his look filled with skepticism, then again surveyed her room. He took his time, his gaze going over the padded floor mat, the ankle and wrist weights, the five-pound barbells, a jump rope, and finally landing on the expandable chin-up bar she had wedged open in the bathroom doorway. So far, she’d managed to get her chin over it twice. He shook his head, and his long hair skimmed over his shoulders. “Who the hell do you think you are? That crazy broad from the Terminator movie?”

      Celia’s face burned and she reluctantly followed him inside, pausing beside the door. “I’m just trying to stay in shape. I was getting too soft.”

      His gaze caught hers and held. Two heartbeats later, he slowly reached around her and shoved the door shut with the flat of his hand. His other palm landed on the wall next to her head, caging her in. She could feel his thick wrists just touching her bare shoulders as he leaned down toward her, angling his chest so close she inhaled his scent with every rapid breath she took. “Crazy Celia,” he muttered, nuzzling close to her. “I like you soft.”

      She thought about ducking. She thought about running. Her body had other thoughts.

      When his mouth touched hers, it was like tasting live electricity. She jerked, gasping at the same time and giving him the opportunity to sink his tongue into her open mouth. Her responding groan told him things she didn’t want him to know.

      He ate at her mouth, big, soft, slow love bites that made her want more, made her chase his mouth with her own. She loved how he kissed. “Alec…”

      “Hush, it’s okay, baby.” And then he gave her that killer kiss again until her arms were tight around his neck, their bodies fused together, rocking. He was so incredibly hard, so solid. She loved the way his breath was broken, how his hands shook, and the way his hips pushed rhythmically against her where she needed the pressure most…

      His mouth moved to her throat, making her toes curl.

      “I don’t want to do this,” she whispered, but where the words came from she had no idea. She hadn’t been touched like this in a long time, and she wanted him so badly, her body was with him every step of the way.

      Alec growled, “Yes you do.”

      Yes I do.

      He skimmed one narrow shoulder strap down her arm while his mouth left damp, hot kisses over the sensitive skin of her collarbone, the hollow of her shoulder, the slope of her upthrust breast. She felt cool air touch her breast, then the incredible, contrasting heat of his rough palm as he slid his hand inside her bra. They both groaned together at the exquisite feel of it.

      His forehead touched hers, his eyes closed as if in pain while he caressed her, gently learning the shape of her, weighing her in his palm. She could feel a subtle trembling in his entire body, could feel the harsh, rapid thumping of his heartbeat, echoing her own.

      “Celia?” He continued to caress her, but his tone sounded strained, as if he held his control on a very tight, very fragile leash. He rubbed her belly with his erection, making certain she understood what he asked.

      Tears threatened. Her body was screaming for her to say yes, to give in. It wouldn’t take much to send her over the top, to make her mindless with release. Just the way he cupped her breast, the rough rasping of his thumb over her tender nipple, had her on the verge of climax. She felt empty and hungry, every nerve ending sizzling and alive.

      And that’s what upset her most of all.

      Why did it have to be this way? Why was she so damn easy? She wanted to be ruled by her mind, by her caring and intelligence and pride. Not by animal lust. Alec had made it plain that he thought her incompetent, that he didn’t want a relationship with her, only sex. And her body didn’t care.

      The sob caught her by surprise, shaming her further. Alec froze, going painfully still against her, and then he pulled his hand free and gathered her close and the emotions swelled inside her until they overflowed. She didn’t want to cry on his shoulder, but as usual, he wasn’t giving her any choice.

      She struggled to get away from him, but his arms locked around her, not allowing so much as an inch between them.

      “Shhh, it’s all right.” One big hand pressed to the back of her head and forced it into the notch of his shoulder. She knew her tears were wetting his bare skin; she could feel the hot, soft skin of his throat against her face. His other hand rubbed up and down the length of her spine, consoling her, comforting her, filling her with immeasurable guilt for letting things get so far out of hand.

      After half a minute of fighting the inevitable she clutched him tight. It simply felt too good to be held, to be comforted. Through rough sobs and humiliating sniffles, she managed to choke out, “I don’t want to want you, damn it.”

      He rubbed his cheek against her head and answered softly. “Yeah, I think I figured that out.”

      She didn’t have room for much leverage, but she got a fairly decent thump of her fist against his solid chest. “Not y-y-you, dummy. Anyone.”

      His hand paused in its stroking, then picked up the soothing rhythm again. “Care to tell me why?”

      “No.”

      “Celia.” His sigh blew over her damp cheek. He tried to look at her face, but she tucked it close to him and held on tight when he tried to tilt her back. She knew her makeup was ruined and she wasn’t done crying, so she had no intention of having him ogle her. “Honey, I have a hard-on that could kill, and it’s not going to be going away anytime soon. Don’t you think it might be nice if you just explained things to me? I really would like to understand.”

      She shook her head.

      “I know you wanted me.” Again he tried to look at her, wanting confirmation, and again she resisted. “I mean, with the way you were kissing me and moving against me. And your nipples were—”

      She groaned, and quickly nodded.