His to Keep (Beauty and the Brit) (19 page)

With that, Brynn’s sated state flew out the window and her body began to hum with sexual tension once more. Doing as Iain commanded, Brynn lay back, then rolled over onto her stomach.

“Up you go.” Iain looped an arm around her torso and pulled Brynn to her knees. She stretched her forearms on the gray comforter. “God, you look amazing like this. But don’t think I’ve forgotten about your punishment.”

His words made her shiver. Brynn bit her lip, anticipating a little tap on her ass. So when it came, she wasn’t surprised. The second tap was a little harder and left her stinging. The third had her gasping. “Iain.”

“That’s for stopping this afternoon. I told you to keep going, to keep touching yourself. You disobeyed me, Brynn.”

Her bottom was feverish, but he hadn’t hurt her. He seemed to know just the right amount of stimulus to use. Brynn’s body started throbbing all over again.

She glanced over her shoulder and took him in. He stood there, naked and proud. And so terribly handsome. She could spend a lifetime staring at Iain Chapman, and it wouldn’t be enough. He was everything she’d ever wanted in a man—strong and self-assured. He put her pleasure before his own. He didn’t judge her or make her feel weak. It wasn’t just about the sex either. Being here with him, opening herself up to this—Brynn felt strong. She knew what she needed, what she wanted. He’d helped her accept this side of herself. “Iain.”

He’d been rubbing her tender bottom, but when his gaze met hers, his hand froze. They stared at each other for a long moment. She saw the heat there, but there was something deeper in his eyes as he stared back. Brynn wasn’t sure what it was, but it warmed her heart. Soon, his eyes grew glassy, unfocused.

As she watched, he gripped her hips and eased his cock inside of her. Brynn moaned as her pussy tried to accommodate him.

Everything had been leading up to this—the culmination of all the foreplay, all the oral. Now, at last, Iain was fucking her, and it felt so
right
. When he twisted his hips, exquisite shock waves vibrated through her. Heat seared along her nerve endings, delicious and powerful, igniting a fire inside her.

“Finally,” he said. “I’ve been needing this since the moment I saw you, Brynnie.”

He’d started slowly, letting the friction build, but that didn’t last long. Soon, Iain’s fingertips sank into her skin and he clung to her. Then he picked up the pace, ramming in and out of Brynn’s pussy. Iain stretched her, filled her. It was heaven.

He continued to pump into her, each hot thrust bringing her closer to another release. When he let go of her right hip to grab her breast, Brynn lost it. She came so hard that when she closed her eyes, white stars burst against her eyelids. She cried out, long and loud, as her inner muscles squeezed his cock.

Iain came then, his hand clenching her hip as he bucked against her. “Bloody hell,” he bit out. He spasmed inside her and, after one last push, became motionless. Then he leaned forward, resting his chest against her back.

As he lay against her, Brynn’s arms trembled from the strain of holding herself up. Even so, she wasn’t ready for him to leave her body. Not yet.

Eventually, Iain kissed her shoulder blade and pulled out. She rolled over then, curling herself into a fetal position. Once Iain got rid of the condom, he climbed back on the bed, sitting behind her. Leaning into her, he rubbed her hip. “You liked that.”

Brynn let out a shaky laugh. “How could you tell?”

He reached across her and untied the belt. “I didn’t get it too tight, did I, love?”

Brynn flexed her wrists. “Everything was perfect.” She turned her head and gazed up at him. “Thank you.”

“You’re so welcome.” Iain eased down and nestled her against him, draping an arm across her breasts. She was glad he held her afterward. She needed it, the comfort of it. They remained like that, silent but united, for a long while.

Then Brynn’s stomach growled.

Iain burrowed his head in her hair and kissed her. “I guess I should feed you, eh?”

Brynn didn’t want to move. She wanted this closeness to last a little while longer. “Not yet.”

“We have all night.”

She rolled over and faced him. Reaching up, she stroked his hair. “I should go home. It’s getting late.” Brynn didn’t want to leave. She wanted to spend the night in Iain’s arms and hear him speak with that sexy accent. She wanted him to touch her like he was now—with intimacy. But she didn’t like to presume.

“Don’t go.” His lips brushed her forehead. “Stay with me.”

Brynn smiled. “All right.”

“And let’s eat. I’m starving.” He climbed off the bed and walked out of the room. Buck naked. He didn’t possess a scrap of self-consciousness.

Brynn sat up and pulled her knees to her chest as she watched his perfect ass. When he realized she wasn’t following, he stuck his head through the doorway. “Come on then, chop, chop.”

“I’m not going to the kitchen naked.”

With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, Iain sauntered to the bathroom and came back with a blue robe. He held it open for her and Brynn stood, shoving her arms into sleeves that were far too long. Iain spun her around and tied the sash. “There. Now you’re properly covered. Time for dinner.” He strolled out of the room, still naked.

She scuttled to catch up. This time, as she moved through the apartment, she took a more thorough look around. Modern, sophisticated furniture and artwork filled the space. Sleek. Contemporary. Sterile. Like a showroom more than a home.

“How long have you lived in this apartment?” she asked, rolling up the robe’s sleeves as she trailed him into the kitchen.

“Five years.”

Brynn stopped, her hand mid-roll. “Five years?”

Iain glanced back at her. “Yeah, why?”

“It’s just…” She was going to say
soulless
but that sounded harsh. “It’s very utilitarian.”

He walked to the fridge and started tossing cardboard containers onto the counter. “Huh. Utilitarian. Say what you mean, Brynn.”

His wide shoulders shifted and muscles played beneath his skin. Brynn’s gaze followed the line of his back all the way down to his tapered waist and then over that juicy rear.

“Brynn? Be blunt, love. And do you want wine with the lasagna?”

“What else do you have?”

“Beer.”

“I’ll have one.”

His brows shot up.

“What?” Brynn plucked at the sash of the robe. “I like beer.”

He stuck a carton of food in the microwave and twisted the cap off a bottle. When he walked toward her, his cock swung freely. Brynn covered her eyes with her forearms. “Dude, get dressed. God.” Then a small laugh escaped her. Iain Chapman was audacious in every way. He’d just done the most outrageous things to her, but Brynn was embarrassed. Go figure.

He yanked on her sleeves, exposing her face. “You’re a conundrum, you are. It’s only bits and bobs, love. Do get used to them.” He handed her the beer. “And don’t think you’re going to get out of telling me how you really feel. What’s wrong with this place? I paid a fucking fortune for it.”

Brynn ran her finger around the rim of the bottle. “It’s seems cold.”

“You’re not talking about the temperature, are you?”

“Your office—”

“My office is designed to impress. I bring punters in there, they see the Old World shit, and they know I’m a legit businessman, yeah?”

“Punter?” Brynn peered up at him.

“Moneymen. Some bloke comes in, I’m looking to entice investors or what have you, he sees that I’ve
got high-end shit—the real deal, mind you, not knock
offs—and he figures I know me onions.”

“As I’ve mentioned, both of my sisters married Brits, but half the time, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Iain took a swig from his own bottle. “That’s because they’re toffs. They don’t speak like normal people.”

“Yes they do.”
Toffs
. She knew that term. It meant highborn. The upper of the upper class. “Anyway, how do you know they’re toffs? They might be regular joes, just like you.”

Iain’s entire body went motionless. Then he took a deep breath, leaving Brynn to wonder what he’d been thinking just now.

“Nowt about me is regular, love.” It took a minute for Brynn to understand him. “Nowt” stood for nothing. He was silent a moment and took another swig of beer. When he started speaking again, he’d toned down his accent. “And if they speak differently, that must mean they went to public school, had nannies, and all the rest of that rubbish. Am I right?”

“Sort of.” Brynn took a seat at the counter. The steel chair wasn’t only fugly, it was also damned uncomfortable. She hopped down just as quickly. “So let me get this straight, you have a fancy office so that people will take you seriously.”

He tipped the bottle at her. “Spot-on.”

“But you prefer this place?” She placed a hand on the back of the stool.

“No, I don’t really give a toss. It’s just a place to rest me bones, innit? You know, your place could do with a bit of sprucing, if you don’t mind me saying. That furniture of yours is ancient.”

Brynn, who’d been leaning against the counter, straightened. “You don’t like my house?” She’d spent months on that place, picking every color, scouring flea markets and garage sales, looking for perfect midcentury, vintage pieces. “The wallpaper in the living room is an original Eames design. I can’t believe I was lucky enough to find it. That house was built in 1963, right in the middle of nuclear testing. Did you know that Frank Sinatra’s mistress lived two blocks down the street? My house is decorated in the classic Rat Pack era.”

Iain held up one hand. “All right. Simmer down. Didn’t mean to get your hackles up. Seeing you get riled, Brynnie, is going to turn me on.”

Brynn slammed her bottle on the counter. “For God’s sake, I can’t eat with your penis staring me in the face.” She turned and walked to the bedroom, not slowing until she stepped into Iain’s closet. Make that dressing room. Row after row of suits lined one wall. Button-down shirts in every color filled the other. One small section held business casual. Inside the brushed steel dresser, Brynn found ties, socks, and more silk boxers. She snatched a pair and looked at him, lounging in the doorway.

Brynn tossed the boxers at him. “I don’t see any jeans or T-shirts.”

“Don’t own any.” He pulled on the boxers and snapped the waist. “Clothes make the man and all that.”

Brynn was finally starting to put it together. The office—it reflected a gentleman of refinement, of taste. The suits—they reflected a man who could afford the best. She reached out and brushed her hand along the sleeve of a light gray suit. The finest material. Iain put a lot of stock in his presentation, how he looked, how others perceived him.

She glanced back at him. “I thought you don’t give a fuck what people think about you.”

Even with his casual posture, he exuded arrogance—and was almost too handsome to be real. “I don’t. But people set a store by all that shit. Most simply look at the shiny package and rarely see past it.”

“I see past it,” she said.

“You think you do. But you don’t have a clue.” His voice sounded rusty.

She understood more than he thought. Iain hadn’t grown up with money, and that’s why it was so important to him, why he worked so damned hard. The ritzy office, the antique furniture, the handmade suits—underneath it all was the boy from Manchester, trying to prove himself. Success, money, his business—it all boiled down to respect. From others and for himself. Iain was a proud man who demanded it.

As she stared at him, Iain stared right back. His arrogant veneer was locked down tight, making him appear just as formidable as if he were wearing his three-piece suit.

“So show me who you really are,” she said, taking one step toward him.

Iain held her gaze for a moment more. Then he pushed off the doorjamb. “Let’s eat.”

Iain was a heavy sleeper, always had been. But that night, with his body curved around Brynn’s, his brain wouldn’t shut off. Not just his brain, his bloody conscience. Her hand entwined with his, she slept deeply, while he lay awake and felt like the dickhead she’d accused him of being.

Over dinner, Brynn had poked at her
lasagna, keeping her eyes lowered for so long Iain had known something was on her mind.

“What is it, love?”

At last, she’d gazed up at him. “It’s not a big deal, and I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

“Now I’m intrigued.”

“My sister Allie has invited us to dinner. Sunday night. Just my sisters and their husbands.”

This was exactly what he’d wanted—to meet Trevor Blake, present him with the downtown expansion project, and let the chips fall where they may. Goal achieved. So why did Iain feel like goddamned Judas? The inner tug-of-war must have been visible on his face, because Brynn immediately began backpedaling.

“It’s not a big deal. We don’t have to go. I’ll tell them you had other plans.”

Iain forced his lips into a semblance of a smile. “No.” He set his beer on the counter. “I want to meet your family. Even the highborn wankers.”

“Really, Iain, it’s too soon. Not that I’m assuming you’ll ever want to meet them.”

He threaded his fingers into her hair. “What time?”

“Dinner’s at seven.”

“Then it’s a date.”

And now he lay here, unable to sleep, feeling like a sad arse and wishing he’d told Brynn everything from the beginning. Brynn accused him of treating people like pawns and that’s what he’d done to her. Iain was a manipulative, cunning bastard, but he wasn’t sorry that he’d forced his way into Brynn’s life. He couldn’t be, not with her here in his arms, smelling so sweet.

God, what a fucking mess. She could never find out.

As carefully as he could, Iain let go of Brynn’s hand, eased out of bed, and silently closed the door behind him. In an effort to get his mind off his bad behavior, he spent the next four hours in the office down the hall, working.

At six, he crept back into the bedroom. With dawn just breaking, the room was still dark and he could barely make her out. She lay on her side, hands tucked beneath her cheek. Like an angel. He woke her by kissing that spot below her ear.

Brynn rolled over, rubbing her eyes. “Hey. What time is it?”

“Six.” He continued kissing his way down her neck. When he drew the sheet lower to uncover her breasts, he bent down and latched on to one. As he laved his tongue around her nipple, Brynn moaned, fisting her hands into his hair.

“Yes,” she whispered. “This is much better than my alarm clock.”

Iain lifted his head to smile up at her. “I should think so. Put your hands behind your head.” He methodically worked his way down her body, his tongue flicking out, tasting her skin. He was gentle with her this morning, not as demanding but still in charge. His Brynnie needed that to get off. While Iain didn’t
have
to call the shots, he liked doing so. Made it better for him, more intense. He liked testing his own self-control.

When his face was level with her pussy, Brynn slightly parted her legs in invitation. “Wider.” She followed his instructions. Iain kissed her mound, then slid his tongue along her slit before licking inside of her.

Brynn nearly sprang off the bed. “Oh, Iain. Right there. Please.” His Brynn—his quiet, shy Brynn—was telling him what she liked. He loved that.

When Iain’s thumb grazed her clit, her hips rose off the bed. It wasn’t long before an orgasm tore through her. Her muscles became taut, rigid. He’d done this to her. Iain made her writhe and twist against his mouth in pleasure.

“Iain. Oh God.”

Hearing her groan his name never failed to stir him. His cock, hard and throbbing, needed its own release, but Iain continued to slide his tongue inside of her slick channel.

After one final cry, Brynn’s body convulsed again, then went slack. As she lay panting, she peered down at him. “That was the best wakeup call I’ve ever had.”

Iain pulled his head away from her and glanced up the length of her lovely body. “Then I’ll be sure to do it often.”

Eyes half-closed, she wore a dreamy smile. “Promise?”

“Promise. Grab a condom, would you, love?”

Brynn moved her arms from behind her head and reached over to the bedside table, knocking his dice on the floor in the process. “Sorry.” She reached for them.

“I’ll get them later.” As he crawled up her body, he dropped light kisses on her skin.

Brynn grabbed a condom, but when she tried to hand Iain a foil packet, he rose to his knees, straddling her hips. “You do it.”

She opened the package and gazed up at him before using two hands to roll it over his cock. “Tell me if I’m doing it wrong.” Her tight grip felt fantastic. “Is that okay?”

Iain opened his eyes and stared down. “Better than. I’m going to take you hard now, Brynnie.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

Iain moved over her once more, resting his weight on his elbows, and kissed her temple before gently guiding himself inside her. Once he was balls deep, he pulled out and surged forward. Iain had never been with anyone like her—so trusting, so idealistic.

Brynn clung to his shoulders. “Harder? Please, Iain,” she asked with that soft, lovely voice.

Iain complied. He slammed in and out of her. She was so tight, his Brynn. As he pumped his hips, he gazed down at her. The room was lighter now, giving him a view of her dark blue eyes. They’d glazed over and her cheeks were flushed. Bloody gorgeous.

Iain came, burying his face against the crook of her neck. A hint of vanilla tickled his senses. Brynn held him as he thrust into her again and again, until he was spent.

When it was over, Iain couldn’t move. He needed a minute or two to recover. Finally, he shoved himself off Brynn and onto his back. “Bloody hell, pet. Sorry I flattened you.”

She laced her fingers with his. “I like it when you’re on top of me. I like it when you’re inside of me. I pretty much like everything you do to me, Iain Chapman.”

“
I
believe we’re in agreement. Your moans provide me with constructive feedback, so that I can enhance my performance, thus maximizing your pleasure. This arrangement is mutually beneficial, giving each of us the satisfactory outcome we desire.”

Brynn lifted her head and looked at him with something akin to awe. “You’re talking in corporate speak.”

He grinned. “How do you
feel
about that?”

“I love it. Do it again.”

He angled toward her, leaning on his forearm. “Effective strategy.” He lowered his voice and drew out the words.

Brynn laughed when he licked the side of her neck. “More.”

“Active.” He kissed her chin. “Listening.”

“Oh, baby. That’s so good.”

Now Iain laughed too. “Developmental strategizing.”

“You read my manual,” she accused.

“Maybe.” He gave her cheek one last peck before he climbed off the bed, walked into the bathroom, and threw away the condom.

Brynn followed him and snuggled into his robe. “You did. You read my manual.” She remained silent until he turned to face her.

“I may have glanced at it.” In truth, he’d skimmed through all of it.

“You probably thought it was boring, useless.”

Not completely. She made a few good points. Could have written it in plain English and it would have been half as long, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. Sensitive, she was. “I liked that bit about respecting the people you work with. You were right—I need to do more of that.”

She canted her head and stared up at him. “You don’t believe that.”

He grabbed her fingers. “I’m trying, love.” He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

“Could you call your concierge?” she asked against his chest. “I need a taxi.”

“We’re going to the same office. I’ll grab a quick shower and shave, then we’ll run by your house.”

“I left my car at my office.”

“I’ll have my driver take you to work after our meeting.” He planted one last kiss on the top of her head and let her go, but patted her ass before strolling toward the shower. He glanced over his shoulder. “Want to join me?”

* * *

Brynn shook her head. “I’ll go make some coffee.” He’d already wrung a loud, strong orgasm out of her. Brynn didn’t want to be selfish. Or late.

Iain walked into the stall. “Okay. I’ll be out in a few.”

Brynn spun and raced for the kitchen. She didn’t trust herself to be that close to Iain. Naked. Water flowing down his perfect body. Nope. She just didn’t have the willpower not to jump him.

In the kitchen, Brynn made a strong pot of coffee and went hunting for her clothes (still on the kitchen floor, but kicked to one corner) while it brewed. Once she was dressed and had poured them each a cup, Brynn walked barefoot through the apartment. She had a hard time picturing Iain there. Did he ever relax in the small sitting area, with its blocky chairs and shaggy, white throw rug? Or lounge on the stiff, gray sofa, watching a soccer game? Doubtful. Iain’s work was his life.

Brynn could relate to a certain extent. She worked too many hours. But her home was her oasis. Brynn loved being in her all-pink kitchen, trying new recipes. She took naps on her peacock-blue sofa and ate breakfast at her ’50s-style dinette. She’d only lived there about a year, but it was warm and comfortable. This… Brynn curled her lip at the sculptured side table.

Although she had to admit, the view from the wide picture window was spectacular.

Brynn took a sip of coffee and contemplated last night. It had been hot. This morning had been…loving. Brynn didn’t know where she fit into Iain’s life, if at all, but she was starting to really care about him. Did he feel the same way? Yes, he’d agreed to meet her family, but he hadn’t looked happy about it. When she’d mentioned it, he’d gotten the strangest look on his face.

Before she could ponder it anymore, Iain stepped into the living room. Today he wore a black pinstripe suit with a sky-blue tie. He smelled of bergamot and shaving cream.

“Five minutes, yeah?” He stopped to stroke her cheek before moving to the kitchen. “You’re an angel, you.” He returned with a cup in his hands. “You poured me coffee.”

“I’d have made breakfast, but you don’t have actual food.”

He regarded her for a moment. “I’ll make sure the fridge is stocked next time.” And when would that be? Brynn was dying to know, but she’d rather cut out her tongue than actually ask.

After Brynn slipped on her sandals, she rinsed out her mug and set it on a paper towel to dry. The man didn’t even own a dish towel. This was like a hotel. Only less personable. Nothing said Iain Chapman lived here. Except for the dice. He hung on to them like a talisman.

“Ready to go?” He grabbed her bag—the one filled with too many jobs that required her attention—and side by side, they made the long elevator trek to the lobby.

Iain spent the ride from his apartment to her house on his phone. By the time they reached her home, Brynn had mentally run through her day. It was going to be a full one.

To her surprise, Iain didn’t stay in the car, but followed her up the walkway to the front door. “You don’t have to come in.”

“Maybe I want to watch you get ready.”

Brynn unlocked the door and turned to him. He squinted against the morning sun. “Not a good plan.” She stepped into the house with Iain on her heels.

“And why not?”

“Because we’ll be late for our meeting with Marc.”

His arm shot around her waist. “He won’t mind.”

“I’ll mind.” As he lowered his head to kiss her, Brynn laughed and avoided him by averting her head. “Seriously. No more sex this morning.”

He managed to nuzzle the side of her throat. “That’s no fun. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

Brynn swatted at the hand cupping her breast. “Do you remember who you’re talking to? I’m not the adventurous type.”

“Last night you were very adventurous.”

“Good morning, Brynn. Englishman.”

Iain raised his head and Brynn whirled around, with his arm still clamped around her waist.

“Tash.” Her neighbor was clad in a pink-and-black leopard-print robe. Her hair was a fright, and without false eyelashes and heavy makeup, Natasha looked much younger. “Did you spend the night?”

“Yes. Zeke and I have huge fight.” Moose and Squirrel danced around her feet. “I let dogs out to piss. Sorry I interrupt.” Then she disappeared into the kitchen and Brynn heard the back door slide open.

She turned and gazed up at Iain. By his narrowed eyes and compressed lips, Brynn guessed he was annoyed. This wasn’t the way she wanted to spend her morning either, but she couldn’t just ignore Natasha. “Why don’t you have a seat in the living room? I’ll talk to her and get ready. Thirty minutes tops.”

“I’ll wait in the car. And if you’re ready in thirty minutes, I’ll eat my tie.” He pivoted and strode out of the house.