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Authors: Terri L. Austin

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BOOK: His Every Need
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“No, afraid not,” he said. “We really have to go.”

With narrowed eyes, Allie smiled. “I have to stay.”

Brian stood as well. “No, it’s all right, Al. You go on.”

Trevor turned to Brynn. “Thank you for the coffee, love.”

“You’re welcome,” she whispered.

His hand on her back, Trevor walked Allie to the car and waved off Simmons, opening
the door himself. Once he slid in beside her, Allie faced him. She was furious, her
blue eyes darker, flashing.

“I quit.”

“You can’t quit, my sweet, you’ve barely even started. Furthermore, you couldn’t possibly
pay back all that you owe me.” He took her hand in his and, with a mocking grin, kissed
the back of it. When she tried to snatch it from his grasp, he allowed her to pull
away. “I think you’re suffering from too much responsibility and low blood sugar.
You barely touched your breakfast. What sounds good, Asian fusion or Italian?”


Allie didn’t say much on the way to the restaurant. It was pointless to argue with
him. But she was frustrated—with her family, with Trevor, with her life. Sitting across
the table from him in one of the most expensive Asian restaurants in the city, she
gazed out at a fountain along the Strip.

Trevor ordered without consulting her. Big surprise. After several minutes of silence,
he leaned toward her. “They’re not helpless, you know. They’re fully capable human
beings. Even the young one. She won’t perish without you.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

Allie stared into Trevor’s eyes and found herself unable to look away. The spell was
broken when the waiter brought a huge platter of food and set it between them.

“Do you really want to know?” she asked once he’d gone.

Trevor nodded. “Yes, I really do. Now hand me your plate. I’ll play Arnold, shall

She took a steadying breath. She didn’t like talking about it, but she had to make
him understand. “My mom got sick five years ago. Breast cancer. I left college and
came home to look after the girls. I thought it would only be one semester, maybe
two. She had a mastectomy and chemo, and for nine months the prognosis was good.”
She picked up her fork and ran the tines over the tablecloth. “But then they found
a lump in the other breast.” Allie stopped for a second. She glanced out the window
and watched the water spray toward a bright blue sky. She cleared her throat. “Eventually,
it metastasized to her bones. She had radiation, hormone therapy. They even tried
this experimental medicine.” She licked her lips and looked at him.

Trevor said nothing as he handed her a plate.

“Last Easter she broke her leg. She’d just been standing there and suddenly, she collapsed.”
Allie gazed down at the platter but didn’t see the food. She saw her mom, who looked
so much like Monica, wearing a bright red chenille bathrobe, asking if anyone wanted
another pot of coffee, then she fell to the ground.

“One minute she was fine, the next she wasn’t.” Allie took a sip of her wine. With
a trembling hand, she set her glass down and it clinked against her plate. “She died
in November, right before Thanksgiving.”

She saw nothing but compassion in his eyes. Sardonic, self-absorbed Trevor she could
handle. But a Trevor with real feelings and a bit of empathy? No way.

She blinked back the tears that were threatening to spill over and once again cleared
her throat. Talking with Trevor, telling him about her mother’s illness, made her
chest feel a little lighter somehow. She rarely spoke about it with her family. Her
dad would start crying and leave the room, Brynn would do the same, and Monica barely
mentioned Mom anymore.

She found Trevor staring at her, those gray eyes sharp and compassionate at the same
time. “What about you?” she asked. “How old were you when your parents died?”

His eyes became shuttered and the compassion was gone. In its place was his normal,
slightly taunting gaze. He stabbed a shrimp with his fork and held it up to her. “Mmm,
try the lobster sauce. It’s delicious.”

Allie let him shovel food into her mouth. “Very good. Is it painful to talk about?
Your parents, I mean?”

His face became devoid of expression, and he fed her a piece of braised Kobe spare
rib. “Not at all, I assure you.”

He was hiding something, she could feel it. But what else was new? “Tell me something
about yourself. All I know is that you’re a businessman who collects things like engraved
metal biscuit tins. Which in case
didn’t know, is odd.”

His gaze lowered to her lips. “I enjoy long walks on the beach and living each day
to the fullest. My turnoffs are rude people, and I adore Virgos.”

Allie couldn’t help it—she burst out laughing. He’d looked so serious and earnest
when he’d rattled off that stupid list. “You’re out of luck then, because you don’t
live near a beach, you’re the rudest person I know, and I’m not a Virgo.”

“But I don’t love you, darling, so we can cross that off our list.” He forked a piece
of duck and held it to her lips.

Well, that sobered her up. He didn’t love her and she didn’t love him. But to hear
him say it made her heart stutter.

They finished lunch without any more personal revelations and when they hopped into
the limo, Trevor instructed Simmons to take Allie to her home. But he made her solemnly
swear to be back at the mansion by six.

“I promise. And thank you, Trevor.”

“Yes well, you were becoming tiresome.” Then he pulled out his phone and ignored her
for the rest of the drive.


Trevor spent the afternoon catching up on work. And thinking about Allie. That sad
lot she called a family was dragging her down. Needy, the whole mess of them.

As he walked through the upstairs hallway before dinner, he glanced into the glass
case that held the engraved biscuit tins Allie had mentioned. Everything displayed
in the house had been a part of his grandfather’s collection—the old man’s obsession,

Trevor often wondered what his grandfather would think of him, here in Vegas. Dragging
half of England with him. Building a garden in the middle of a desert. It smacked
of a sentimentality he’d never openly admit to. If Allie’s family was her weakness,
this was probably his—hanging on to the past, to the grandfather who’d given him a

He stopped in front of Allie’s room and knocked on the door.

After a moment, she poked her head out and frowned at him. “What? I was back before
six.” She clutched the lapels of her pink robe with one hand.

Her skin was still damp and she smelled divine. He watched as a single drop of water
slipped from the hollow of her throat down her upper chest, to hide beneath the satiny
folds of material. He wanted to follow its trail with his tongue. Under his gaze,
Allie’s nipples beaded. He needed some quality time with those breasts too. He’d had
a sampling the night before. Now he wanted more. When his eyes drifted back to her
face, her cheeks were as pink as the robe. “I appreciate your punctuality, Miss Campbell.
I thought we might have a drink on the terrace before dinner.”

“Oh.” She swallowed. “Okay.” She sounded a little breathless. Her voice was a little
huskier. He wanted her to say his name with that voice.

Trevor perused her, from the top of her blond head to her bare toes, peeking out from
beneath the hem of the robe. “Or I could come in and we could delay dinner by an hour.
Or two.”

She clutched the robe tighter. “I’m not on the menu, English.” She slammed the door
in his face.

In spite of his aching cock, he smiled. Yes, this was why Allie was here. She amused

He propped himself against the wall and waited. “Tick tock, Miss Campbell.”

“Don’t rush me, Mr. Blake.” The words drifted through the door.

Trevor studied his nails. “I’ll be sure to order a schoolgirl uniform tomorrow. I
can’t wait to see you in plaid.” He knew it irritated her when he called her Miss
Campbell, but he nearly gnashed his teeth when she reciprocated. “I’m coming in there
to help if you don’t move it along.”

She opened the door then and stepped out into the hallway. She looked lovely in the
ivory lace dress, the V-neck displaying a delightful view of her plump breasts. Her
bright, straight hair looked soft and shiny. He found himself reaching out to touch
a strand but thrust his hand into his trouser pocket at the last instant.

“What?” Brows furrowed, she blinked up at him. “Why are you scowling like that?”

Fuck it. He pulled his hand from his pocket and sank his fingers into the hair at
the base of her neck. He massaged the back of her scalp, and with his other hand,
he grabbed hold of her waist and jerked her toward him. She tottered on her heels
and flattened her hands against his chest to steady herself.

His gaze skimmed over her face. Her eyes widened and her glossy lips parted.

“Trevor,” she whispered, “what’s wrong with you?”

Leaning down, he kissed her possessively, tasting the sweetness of her lips, sliding
his rough tongue against hers. He let go of the tight hold on her hair and let his
fingers sift through it, feeling its silky texture. He couldn’t get enough of her
lips. Of her fresh scent. Of her hands running over the contours of his back beneath
his jacket.

He was achingly hard. Again. Still.

Trevor moved his other hand from her bare back to her bottom and squeezed, felt the
lace rough against his palm before gradually pulling his mouth away from hers. He
missed the contact.

Allie’s full lips appeared poutier as she glanced up at him. He licked his own. “I
think I’m wearing your lippy.”

Stepping back, he took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his mouth. He
looked at the light pink streak against on the white fabric before she took it from
his hand. Her eyes met his as she reached up and rubbed at his upper lip.

“There, I think that’s all of it.” She still hadn’t lowered her eyes, and they gazed
at each other for a long moment.

Trevor tucked the cloth in his pocket, then ran a finger down her cheek.

Allie shuddered slightly. “Thank you for letting me go back home today.”

He placed his hand on her back, brushed his fingertips over her bare skin. God, she
was soft. “How did it go with Monica?”

They made their way to the stairs and Allie’s fingers grasped the banister. “Not well.
After she calmed down, I tried to talk to her, but she still wouldn’t tell me Brad’s
last name. However, she did promise to go to school this week. Of course, that was
after I threatened to follow her to class or maybe stick a tracking device up her

Trevor scoffed. “How innovative of you.” He led her out back and onto the wide terrace.
Arnold had set up a small bar to one side.

“What’s your poison, Miss Campbell?” His cock was still hard and watching her gracefully
move around the patio in that short dress wasn’t helping.

Allie smiled. “Can you make a cosmopolitan?”

“Of course I can. I simply choose not to.”

“You take one part vodka—”

“Yes, yes, all right.” He began mixing ingredients into a shaker and poured the contents
into a martini glass. “Here you go.” As he handed her the glass, their fingers touched,
and he felt that spark again. Honestly, he was like a schoolboy with his first crush.
It was embarrassing.

Allie’s eyes found his. “Thanks.”

Trevor let go of the glass and moved back to the bar. “I will have a very manly scotch,
thank you.” He poured himself a glass of single malt and walked back to her.

“Come on, there’s something you need to see.” He held out his hand.

Allie stared at it before linking her fingers with his, and he helped her down the
flagstone steps. They strolled along the path, toward the bottom of the garden to
the small pond. He led her to a bench overlooking a hill. Two mountains in the distance
framed the sunset. He squeezed her hand. “See there?”

She gasped. The water reflected the orange and pink hues that streaked across the
sky. “It’s beautiful.” She shifted on the bench and placed her hand on his thigh,
letting it rest there too briefly. “You’re so lucky, Trevor, to have all this.”

“Am I?” He’d never felt particularly lucky. Fortunate perhaps, not lucky. But sitting
next to her, in his extravagant garden, he felt something like it for the first time.

They sipped their drinks and watched in silence as the sun fell, a dark purple sky
replacing the orange glow. A few stars popped out. And Trevor was…at peace.

“When I was little,” Allie said, “my dad used to drive us out to the desert to look
at the stars. He had this old telescope, and we’d take turns trying to find the different
constellations. My mom would pack cookies, and Monica would never shut up, and Brynn
used to fall asleep on the way home.”

He stretched his arm along the back of the bench, brushed the hair off her shoulder.
“That’s a lovely memory.”

She nodded. “I think so too.”

He sighed. “We should go in soon. Arnold will have a coronary if the food gets cold.”

As they stood, she tucked her arm in his. He glanced down at the top of her head and
suppressed the urge to kiss it. Good God, he was becoming treacly sweet, and it was
slightly nauseating.

She peered up at him and smiled. “Thank you for showing this to me.”

“You’re most welcome.” He felt himself smiling back.

He led her through the fragrant garden and toward the lighted terrace where he noticed
someone lounging on one of the chairs. Stopping in his tracks, the tendons in his
hand strained as he clutched his tumbler of scotch.

Allie pulled to a stop beside him. “Who’s that?” she whispered.

Trevor glared at the woman making herself at home with a glass of champagne in her

“Hello, Mother.”

Chapter 7

“Mother?” Allie gasped. “I thought your parents were dead?”

Gracefully, the woman uncrossed her legs and rose from the lounger. “Trevor, dearest,
what have you been saying about me?”

“Nothing good, I assure you.”

Allie glanced between the two and winced at the cold expression on Trevor’s face.
She hadn’t known him long, but she’d quickly learned that look always spelled trouble.

Allie switched her attention back to his mom—his beautiful, sophisticated mom—and
saw the resemblance. Her hair, the same dark shade as Trevor’s, brushed the tops of
her shoulders. Her tilted eyes were gray as well.

“Who’s your little friend, darling?” She nodded toward Allie, her inspection thorough.

Trevor’s muscles stiffened beneath her hand, but he adopted a casual tone. “This is
Allison Campbell. Allison, this is my mother, Margaret Tremayne Blake del Santos Quinn
Arceneau…” He narrowed his eyes. “What was the last one, Mother?”

She smiled at him. “Beauregard.”

“Yes, that’s it, Beauregard. Can’t believe I forgot.” He peered down at Allie. “Lived
on a farm, that one.”

Margaret took a sip of champagne. “He lived on a ranch in Texas, as you very well
know.” She turned to Allie. “Call me Mags, darling. Everyone does.”

Trevor extracted his arm from Allie’s and strode toward the bar. With his back to
them, he poured himself another drink.

“I tried calling several times last week,” Mags said.

When Trevor turned around, he wore his most annoying smile—the sarcastic, nasty one.
“I’ve been busy, as you see.” He pointed his glass at Allie.

Mags drained the last of her champagne. “Your father’s inside, taking a call. He should
be out in a moment.”

Trevor’s body stilled, his glass froze in midair. Then he seemed to snap out of it,
and if Allie hadn’t been watching closely, she might not have noticed.

“Father’s here?” Was that a hint of panic in his voice?

Seconds later, a tall man in his late fifties stepped onto the terrace. He was as
strikingly handsome as Trevor, and Allie imagined that Trevor would look just like
him in about twenty-five years.

Trevor had parents. He flat out told her he didn’t have any family. Why would he lie
about that?

“Hello, Son. Any scotch left for me?”

Saying nothing, Trevor poured his father a glass and handed it to him.

As he accepted the drink, his gaze fixed on Allie. “Well, well, who have we here?”

“This is Allison.” Trevor’s voice was so frigid, it chilled her. “She’s
mistress. So no poaching.”

Allie clenched her fists and bit back the vehement denial that sprang to her lips.
This was the role he wanted her to play? Well, fine. Every time she started to feel
something for Trevor other than contempt, he got nasty and she remembered why she
disliked him. She turned to his father with a polite smile. “How do you do?”

“Aren’t you a stunner? Good work, Trev.”

Mags gently poked him in the ribs. “Be good, Nigel. Leave the poor girl alone.”

Nigel wrapped his arm around Mags’s waist and gave her ass a little pat. “All right,

Trevor stared up into the dark sky. “What have I done to deserve this?”

Mags raised a brow. “Quite a lot of mischief, I imagine. Now stop being so melodramatic,
darling, and refill my glass.” She handed her flute to him. “And you, Allie—or is
it Allison? Do you need a refill?”

Allie might need more than one to deal with all of these batty Brits. “Yes, champagne
sounds lovely.”

Trevor handed Allie a glass before refilling his mom’s. “And it’s Miss Campbell to
you, Mother.”

“Nonsense. Let’s eat, darling, or I’m going to expire.” Mags slowly turned toward
the house.

“And I’m melodramatic?” Trevor walked over to Allie and placed his hand on her back.
She took a page from Mags’s book and jabbed her elbow in his rib. But she wasn’t teasing.

“Umph,” Trevor groaned softly. He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Behave yourself,
darling, or you won’t get your pudding.”

Allie jerked away from him and hurried inside. He caught up to her and pulled out
her chair before taking his seat at the head of the table.

Arnold served the first course, a lemony fish soup, and retreated. She didn’t blame
him. Allie wished she could slip away to her room too. The tension coming off Trevor
was so thick, it was hard to breathe.

“Son, you must be wondering why we’re here,” Nigel said. “Mmm, this soup is quite

Trevor leaned his elbow against the armrest of his chair and sipped his scotch. “I’m
more curious about when you’ll be leaving.”

Mags placed her hand on Trevor’s arm. “We’re getting married, darling. Isn’t that

“Yes, delightful. Who are your victims this time? And is it a double ceremony? That
would be quite novel.”

“Don’t be silly, dearest. We’re marrying each other. Again.” Mags grinned, clapping
her hands together.

“Well.” Trevor raised his glass. “All the best to you.”

Allie couldn’t understand the anger in his voice. Wasn’t that every child’s fantasy,
to see their parents get back together?

“I’d like you to be my best man, Trev.” His father wiggled his eyebrows. “Maybe even
have a little stag party?”

Trevor threw his head back and laughed. “You must be joking.”

Nigel frowned and Mags pouted. She even managed to make her pout look sexy. Really,
the woman had a gift. Maybe that’s why Trevor was immune to Allie’s own eye-batting,
lip-biting trick. He’d seen his mother use it too many times.

“I don’t know what’s more amusing, the two of you marrying each other—again—or the
fact that you’re doing it in Vegas. Maybe we should lay odds on how long it will last
this time.” He raised a brow. “I’ll give it seventeen hours before you’re screaming
like a banshee, Mother.” He nodded at his father. “And it will be six weeks at the
most before you have your cock inside another woman.”

Allie gasped, but no one noticed.

Still laughing, Trevor raised his glass and drained it. “Yes, cheers to the happy
couple.” He pushed back from the table, threw down his napkin, and blew out of the

Mags smiled. “Well, he took that better than I expected.”

“Quite,” Nigel said.

With wide eyes, Allie looked to Arnold, who had silently walked back into the room,
but he was no help. He wore his professional butler face as he stared at the wall.

“So, Allie darling, how long have you been sleeping with my son?”


Once the last dish had been swept from the table, Allie smiled at Mags and Nigel,
made her excuses, and all but sprinted out of the room. She didn’t know what to make
of them. Time for some answers.

She rapped lightly on the door of Trevor’s office and slipped inside. Without waiting
for an invitation, she wandered into the room.

He flicked his eyes from his computer screen. “May I help you, Miss Campbell?” He’d
taken off his jacket and tie, and rolled up his shirtsleeves. Despite the casual appearance,
this wasn’t the man who had kissed her so passionately in the hallway before dinner
or showed her the beautiful sunset from the foot of his garden. That Trevor had been
replaced by the uncaring businessman she’d first met.

“No, not really.”

“Then why are you here? I’m very busy at the moment.”

Allie walked behind the desk. Leaning over his shoulder, she stared at some sort of
spreadsheet filling one of the screens. “Just making sure you weren’t playing solitaire.”

Trevor glanced down her dress. “I can see all the way to your pussy, Miss Campbell.
Did you come here to fuck?” His gaze lingered on her breasts.

She recognized his tactic. He always said something shocking when he wanted to push
people away. He’d done it with his parents at dinner, and now it was her turn.

She straightened. “I came to see if you were all right. And to say I think you’re
an ass.”

“I’m fine, and duly noted. Please shut the door on your way out.”

Instead of leaving, she parked herself on top of his desk. “No.” Swinging her legs
back and forth, her calf brushed his upper arm. “You lied about your parents.” She
kicked off her shoes. “Why?”

“I never actually said they were dead. You assumed. And do get down, you’re blocking
my monitors.” But he wasn’t looking at the monitors. He was staring at her legs, where
the flared skirt had ridden above her knees.

Allie flattened her hands on the hem and raised it another inch. “These monitors?”

Trevor’s steely gaze flew to hers. “Are you toying with me, Miss Campbell?”

Allie’s heart began to pound as she leaned forward. This felt dangerous, like she
was walking a very thin line, and with one misstep, she could tumble. Whether Trevor
wanted to admit it or not, his parents’ sudden arrival had upset him. She wanted answers,
yes, but she also wanted to coax him out of this foul mood so that he’d talk to her.
“Maybe,” she teased. “Do you like to be toyed with, Mr. Blake?”

His eyes narrowed at the title. “Do you?” Grabbing hold of her hips, he slid her ass
across the desktop until she sat directly in front of him. “Put your feet on the armrests.”

Biting her lip, Allie glanced back at the door. “What if someone comes in? Arnold
could interrupt us again.”

“Always a possibility. But you started this game, Miss Campbell. Are you brave enough
to finish it?”

Was she? When he looked at her with those gray eyes, so full of sexual promise, she
felt brave, powerful. She didn’t know what this was, this insane attraction between
them, but she wanted to explore it. Taking a deep breath and gathering her courage,
Allie placed the toes of one foot onto Trevor’s chair. It caused her skirt to hike
up to her hip. Then she propped her other foot on the opposite armrest. Her breath
quickened, waiting to see what he’d do next. “Well?”

Trevor let go of her waist and glided his hands down her hips, over her thighs. With
the tips of his fingers, he grazed her bare legs before gripping her knees and spreading
them even wider. His gaze drifted down her body, idled over her breasts until finally
it rested on her covered pussy. “Your knickers are wet.” He let go of one knee to
brush his thumb across the lacy triangle of her panties.

Gasping at his delicate touch, Allie gripped the edge of the desk.

Trevor’s eyes darkened as he watched her. “Do you like that, Miss Campbell?”

She nodded.

“Sorry, love, can’t hear you.”

“Yes. I like it when you touch me.”

“When I touch you where?” With his thumb, he pushed aside the elastic and traced over
her slick folds. “Here?”

“Yes.” Allie glanced down. Trevor’s tanned arm was a sharp contrast to her ivory skirt.
Through the transparent material of her thong, she watched his thumb glide up and
down her pussy. “That feels good.”

“Do you want more?”

She was tired of being fingered. He was the one always toying with her. Time to be
bold, tell him exactly what she wanted. And she wanted him. Every hard inch. Allie
stretched toward him, framed his face with her hands. “Trevor. I really, really want
you inside me now. Please tell me you have a condom.”

“Several.” He pulled his hand from her, let go of her knee, and reached around to
grab his wallet. Opening the flap, he withdrew four.

Allie grinned. “You’re very optimistic.”

“Really? Is that how you see me? I prefer practical.” Tossing the condoms and wallet
on the desk by her hip, he lowered his head to kiss her inner thigh. When he hooked
his fingers into the waistband of her panties, he gazed up at her. “Take them off
or rip them off?”

Allie placed her hands back on the desk and angled her ass up. “Take them off. You
have no respect for the lingerie.”

With aching slowness, he began to remove them. One centimeter at a time. It was torture.
After a minute, she gave up.

“God, fine. Rip them.”

Trevor smiled at her. “Good choice.” Once again, he pulled his hands outward, tearing
at the fabric. Then he gently removed her feet from his chair, pushed it back, and
stood between her parted legs.

Allie touched his exposed throat. “You’re always overdressed for these things.”

“I could say the same about you.” He reached around her and unzipped the dress, tugging
down the bodice until her breasts were exposed. “That’s much better.”

She worked her arms free until the dress was simply a band around her waist. As Trevor
leaned forward to capture her lips with his, Allie freed his buttons, desperate to
get her hands on that magnificent chest again. Then parting the edges of the shirt,
she ran her hands across his pecs. His skin was warm, so smooth.

Trevor palmed one of her breasts, flicking the nipple. At the same time, his tongue
stroked hers.

Clutching his shoulders, Allie felt like every nerve in her body was on fire. Her
pussy ached, her breasts tingled, her pulse raced. She twisted her head to the side,
breaking the kiss. She let go of his shoulders to rip a packaged condom off the strip.
“Why are you still wearing pants?” she asked.

“That’s a good question,” he said, his lips moving against the side of her neck. “God,
you smell good enough to eat.” He unfastened his belt and Allie heard the metallic
slide of his zipper.

“Absolutely,” she said. “But second round, all right?” She reached into his trousers
and grabbed hold of his shaft. It was as long and thick as she remembered. Using her
thumb and middle finger, she stroked his cock, felt it twitch against her hand.

Trevor grabbed her wrist, and then without warning, he plucked her from the desktop
and, spinning, dropped her into the chair.

Shocked, she gazed up at him with wide eyes. “What?”

He stroked himself. “Suck.”

Allie stared at the engorged head, just inches from her mouth. This was like her first
night here, when he’d demanded she suck his finger. She’d felt embarrassed and resented
it. But now, staring up into Trevor’s face, his pleading eyes, she knew she was in
control here.

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