The Hudsons: Max, Bella and Devlin. Maureen Child

of signals. In fact, if anything, she’d mothered him, pampered him. Spoiled him, he admitted.

      He reached past her to slide open the door. Cooled air rushed out of the house and over his skin, but did nothing to cool his desire. Once they’d crossed the threshold—literally, figuratively—there would be no going back. His feet sank into the carpet. He closed the door behind him, sealing them into the silent house.

      The room smelled like her, looked like her. The other her. This woman he didn’t know. She’d added candles and framed photographs of her family and potted plants to the room.

      Who was this other woman? he asked himself not for the first time.

      He caught her face in his hands and stroked her smooth skin and then threaded his fingers through her thick, silky hair. Her head tilted back, but he ignored the silent invitation. He caressed her neck, her shoulders, her arms, and then he transferred his hands to her hips and drew circles over her hipbones with his thumbs. She shivered and gasped. The sound hit him low and hard.

      Easing his hands upward, he outlined her narrow waist and the bottom edge of her rib cage, savoring her warm, satiny skin. Her lids fluttered closed. He bent to kiss one, then the other. Her thick lashes tickled his chin, and her back arched, pressing her pelvis into his. Need stabbed him. He sucked a sharp breath through his gritted teeth.

      Dipping his head, he sipped from the shadowy warmth beneath her ear. She angled her head to give him better access. This time he didn’t refuse. The hot press of her hands at his waist jolted him. The unhurried caress of her soft hands up and down his sides urged him to rush, to push her onto her bed and bury himself inside her. He wanted her hard and fast. For that reason he kept a tightfisted grip on his control.

      Mindless passion was for college kids. Smart passion, delayed satisfaction brought greater rewards. And purpose. He reminded himself he was doing this for a reason, but that reason was a little hazy when she tasted so good on his lips and on his tongue.

      Nuzzling the fragrant spot behind her earlobe made her shudder in his arms. Her nails raked his back and ripped an unexpected groan from deep in his chest. He drew back, putting space between him and fighting the temptation to say to hell with slow and easy.

      He traced the V-neck of her top with one finger, his eyes focusing on the nipples beading beneath the thin fabric. He wanted those tight buds in his mouth, needed to roll them around on his tongue and taste her. Instead he circled the band of black around her ribcage and drew a line down the center of her belly. He repeated the circle around her navel and then the top of her bikini bottom.

      She shifted impatiently, her smooth, warm thighs sliding against each other. “Max.”

      The half cry, half whimper got to him. He’d bet his Lamborghini she’d sound like that when he slid inside her the first time. And that couldn’t happen soon enough. His patience evaporated. He reached for the knot at her nape and fumbled it free. The ties dropped and the fabric slid downward with excruciating slowness before finally baring her breasts. He swallowed hard at the sight of the dusky centers.

      Dana reached one arm behind her back and loosened the other tie. The top floated to the floor. He flexed his fingers in anticipation and then cupped her warm, soft flesh in his palms and buffed her nipples with his thumbs. Her breath hitched. She bit her lip. He bent his head and took a puckered tip into his mouth.

      Her taste was like nothing he’d experienced before. He savored her unique flavor and her scent filled his nostrils. Her fingers threaded through his hair, holding him close as she arched into him, her free breast branding his bicep. But he wasn’t trying to escape. Not until he’d had his fill of her and cured this damned sudden and irrational obsession that had hit him like a bad case of the flu.

      He shifted his mouth to the neglected soft globe and used the moisture he’d left behind to lubricate his massaging fingers on the first. Dana’s fingers tightened, her nails scraping an arousing pattern on his scalp. He wanted more.

      “Mmm. That feels good,” she whispered brokenly.

      Planting one knee on the floor, he hooked her bikini bottom with his thumbs and yanked it down her legs. She gripped his shoulders as she stepped out of her swimsuit, her touch hot and firm on his skin. He wanted her hands all over him, the sooner, the better.

      Letting her nipple slide from his mouth, he looked up at her, at her red lips and heavy-lidded eyes, at the curve of her damp nipples, her small waist. But it was the tiny cluster of dark curls that beckoned him. He needed to taste her. Her golden skin, her sweet center, the essence of her arousal. But not yet. Not when his hunger was sharp enough to cut him.

      He pressed a kiss to her breastbone, laved his way down her belly, toward the golden heart. He circled the jewelry with his tongue and she hiccupped a series of short fast breaths. As he strung kisses along her bikini line he used his hands to caress from her hips down the outside of her legs to her feet.

      He curled his fingers around her ankles, grasped the delicate joints and urged her legs apart, widening her stance for balance because he intended to rock her world.

      “Max?” she breathed.

      He worked his hands upward on the insides of her legs this time, his palms coasting over warm, smooth soft skin. She was so damned touchable. The scent of her excitement grew stronger as he neared his target and his own desire pounded through his veins, urgent and unrelenting. He forced himself to take it slow when what he wanted to do was shoot to his feet and bury himself deep inside her with a single thrust.

      He reached the back of her knees. She shivered at the scrape of his fingernails along the sensitive crease. He did it again with the same results. She clutched his hair and then released, clutched and released. Her short nails lightly outlined his ears, sending stimulating ripples cresting through him.

      He finally reached her thighs and massaged their sleekly muscled length, working his way from her tensed quadriceps and hamstrings to her softer, warmer inner thighs. He traced her panty line with his thumbnails and her knees quaked. Encouraged, he leaned forward and traced the same path with his tongue, simultaneously finding her center with his fingers. She was hot, wet and ready for him. Her hands cupped his head holding him close.

      Her fragrance filled his lungs and surged straight to his groin. The selfish urge to flip her on her back on the bed and ride her hard crossed his mind. Instead, he replaced his fingers with his tongue and laved the swollen flesh waiting for him, circling it, tasting it, exploring it until he found the spot that made her cry out and curl her toes into the carpet.

      Her taste filled him with a desperate, ravenous hunger for more. More. More. His pulse hammered in his head, almost drowning out the sexy-as-hell sounds coming from Dana’s mouth.

      “It’s too much. I can’t.” Her nails dug into his scalp. She tried to pull away.

      He clamped his hands on her buttocks and intensified his oral caress. Her legs shook. She tasted so damned good, smelled so good, felt so good. He sucked her into his mouth and pumped his fingers deep inside her. Even without her moan to clue him in, he registered the exact second she quit fighting and went over the edge. Her cries filled the air and her internal muscles clenched his fingers.

      He rode the wave with her, savoring each squeeze, each whimper, each spasm. And when her knees buckled, he held her upright. He kissed the pale skin between her curls and the twinkling heart and looked up at her. Her pleasure was a sight to behold. Dusky peach painted her cheeks and her lips were red and swollen from her biting them.

      Her eyes slowly opened halfway and found his. The hand she had gripping his shoulder slid up the side of his neck, under his jaw and then she lifted his chin. “Thank you.”

      “My pleasure.” And it had been. He rose and kissed her hard on the mouth.

      Reality check. He’d been so eager to lose himself inside her he’d almost forgotten a critical component. “I’ve barely started. But we need a condom.”

      Her lashes fluttered and she lowered her chin. “I have some.”

      She bit