His to Keep (Beauty and the Brit) (7 page)

She didn’t feel any different or more powerful. That stupid mantra never worked.

Taking a deep breath, Brynn opened the door just a crack and, with one eye, peered up at Iain. His lips were compressed into a thin line and tiny creases underlined his narrowed eyes. The knot in his tie was crooked and his pocket square was MIA. She figured he’d be pissed off, but that might have been an understatement. Iain looked ready to go nuclear.

“Let me in, Brynn. Now.”

Without hesitation, Brynn stepped aside. Once he’d entered and planted himself in front of the door, it occurred to Brynn that she didn’t have to follow his orders. But he seemed so confident, she’d automatically obeyed. Brynn had just invited the wolf inside, and now she was trapped.

Fiddling with the edges of her robe, she stepped backward. “Now’s not a great time, Iain. Perhaps we can discuss this over the phone tomorrow. Like two rational professionals.”

He remained silent, glaring at her. Something wild and untamed moved behind his eyes, turning them from light brown to a darker, richer shade, reminding her of molasses rather than honey. This morning, his hair had been neat and tidy, except for that one wayward lock that fell onto his forehead. But now, deep grooves plowed across the short waves, like he’d thrust his fingers through them in frustration—or anger. Brynn placed her bet on anger. His five o’clock shadow was in full bloom, and the overall effect made him look like a well-dressed outlaw. He wasn’t just handsome—he was magnificent. She wanted to sketch his likeness from every angle. Although she wouldn’t do him justice, she longed to capture the proud jawline and the feral gleam in his eyes.

Despite Iain’s mood, Brynn wasn’t scared for her safety. No, she was afraid of
herself
, that she’d be putty in his hands. His strong, capable hands.

For the first time in her life, Brynn was
lusting
after a man. Not just any man—Iain Chapman, a man she didn’t even know. Yet there was something unpredictable about him. Though Brynn’s brain sent out a warning signal, reminding her this was a terrible idea, her body didn’t receive the message. Her nipples puckered and her pussy started growing slick. Her body felt lush and ripe, ready for sex.

She wanted him to rip the kimono off her body and nail her right here against the pale blue wall. So what if she didn’t have an orgasm? They were overrated. Getting pounded by a man like Iain would be enough.

Brynn’s tongue flicked out over her lips, moistening them. Iain’s gaze followed its trail and remained fixed on her mouth. Even though they were a foot apart, Brynn could feel carnal hunger coming off him in waves. It mingled with his temper. The combination felt almost tangible, as if his emotions were battering against her, searching for a way past her defenses.

Heat wove its way from her chest upward, past her already splotchy neck and into her cheeks, making her skin feel tight. One droplet of water slid from her collarbone and flowed down the center of her chest. With her skin on fire, Brynn was surprised it didn’t sizzle on contact.

Iain’s attention switched from her mouth to that lone trickle. His fierce eyes made Brynn’s insides flip in nervous spasms.

She picked up her foot to take another step backward, but she didn’t get the chance. With one stride, Iain stood in front of her,
looming
. Before Brynn could react, he lowered his head and slowly licked the droplet from her chest while simultaneously wrapping his arm around her waist.

Oh
God
. It was the most sensual thing she’d ever experienced. Brynn fisted the shoulders of his suit. He made her almost woozy with his nearness, the warmth of his tongue lapping across her breastbone. He remained bent over, his tongue licking up to her neck. Brynn angled it to one side in invitation.

“Brynn,” he murmured, his voice husky. Pushing back the curtain of her hair, he sank his teeth into her earlobe, biting until it stung. That little bit of pain, along with the pleasure of his lips sucking the same spot a moment later, caused Brynn’s breasts to tingle, to ache for attention.

Iain wasn’t doing anything outrageous—licking her chest, nibbling her ear—but Brynn had never felt such a heightened sense of arousal before.

Loosening her grip on his shoulders, she stroked the back of his neck with one hand while grabbing his hair with the other. When Iain growled against the column of her throat, it made Brynn feel proud. She liked eliciting that kind of uninhibited response from him.

He continued to rain kisses along her neck. His stubble abraded the tender skin, but Brynn didn’t care. The changes in sensation were delicious. She wanted to feel every texture, every part of him. The back of his neck was silky beneath her palm, and warm to the touch. Did he have hair on his chest or was it smooth? She needed to know these things. Right now.

Iain’s hand tightened on Brynn’s waist, his fingers digging into the space below her ribs. His cock pressed against her. With a twist of her hips, Brynn brushed against his erection, causing him to groan again, deep in his chest. Then he raised his head and stared into her eyes. His face was flushed, his lips bright red.

“Bedroom.” It wasn’t a question.

Brynn couldn’t speak. The man took her breath away. She pointed one finger in the direction of the hallway.

Iain kept his hand clamped around her waist and straightened, lifting her up with one arm. “Which room?” His accent became thicker, his voice huskier.

Brynn had to think. Her senses were completely overwhelmed by Iain Chapman. She gave her head a little shake to clear it. “Last on the left.”

Iain strode into her bedroom. He didn’t notice the retro furniture or the pink, girly accents. His gaze never left Brynn.

Lowering her to her feet, he fumbled with the knotted kimono belt. Brynn brushed his hands aside. “Can we do you first?” All-encompassing need took precedence over her shyness. She wanted to see him. All of him.

“Undress me, Brynn.”

Reaching up, she tugged at the knot in his red tie. While she worked on that, Iain shrugged out of his jacket and kicked off his shoes.

With little jerks, she pulled the tie from his collar. He still looked dapper in the navy vest, but less constrained. She placed her hands on his chest. The lightweight wool was a soft, fine weave. With deliberation, Brynn slowly slid her hands downward.

What the hell are you doing?
That little thought tickled the back of her mind, but Brynn ignored it. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, besides petting Iain’s chest. Where did this boldness come from? Brynn didn’t know and, frankly, didn’t want to question it, because this new brazen Brynn wasn’t thinking too clearly. Instead, she focused on what she was feeling. Tension coiled tight in her belly, sending little sparks straight to her pussy. Iain made her forget to be reticent, forget that she was supposed to be doing something else right now. Whatever it was, it seemed irrelevant when she was seconds away from seeing Iain naked.

“Brynn, stop groping me and take my clothes off.
Now
.” So forceful. That bossy tone caused her pulse to quicken. What else would he make her do? The possibilities were titillating and endless.

Brynn started flicking open the buttons along his vest. It was double-breasted, so there were twice as many of them. While she was stripping him, Iain stroked his large hands up her wrists, delving into the wide sleeves of her robe to cup her elbows.

“Brynn.”

She pushed aside the vest and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Brynn. Look at me.”

Her fingers didn’t stop until she’d slipped the last button through the hole. “I am looking at you. You’re something else.” She flicked her finger over his nipple and it hardened. Then she tugged the shirttails from his slacks.

“You did a runner on me today. Never again. Understand?”

Instead of answering him, she separated the edges of his shirt and glanced at his torso. He had chest hair. Short, dark, and crisp—it wasn’t too thick, wasn’t too sparse, as it covered his pecs, leaving his well-defined stomach bare except for the happy trail that started below his belly button and disappeared into his waistband.

Brynn planted her hands on those pectorals and Iain’s muscles leaped beneath her palms. As she moved her hands lower, he sucked in an audible breath, causing his abs to contract. They were a work of art—firm, rigid. Even his obliques were sculpted down to the hint of a V-cut peeking out of his pants. The bulge at his fly was even more impressive up close. She stared at it as she continued to feel him, gliding her hands over his hot skin. With each passing touch, Iain’s breath became increasingly heavy and uneven.

Fingering his raised muscles, Brynn gave herself free rein to manhandle him as much as she wanted, exploring to her heart’s content. She wasn’t the kind of person who fucked someone after knowing him for two days, but she felt as if she’d fallen into some kind of trance.

Then Iain grabbed Brynn’s hands, holding them away from his body. “I said look at me.” His sharp tone whipped through her, snapping her out of that dreamy state.

Brynn gazed up into his eyes. She blinked a couple of times and tried to pull away. “What am I doing?”

“You’re taking my clothes off. And I’m about to do the same to you.”

She shook her head. “There’s something I have to do tonight.” If only she could remember what it was. She tried to break free, but he wouldn’t let her go. “Is this a mistake?”

He thrust her hands to her sides, pinning her. “The only mistake you made was leaving me in the restaurant today. Who the bloody hell do you think you are? No one treats me that way.”

Brynn opened her mouth to answer, but he swooped down and slanted his lips over hers. Unlike the kiss in the elevator, there was nothing soft or persuasive about this. This kiss was punishing, harsh. He didn’t give her a chance to kiss him back, but took complete control.

And Brynn loved it. She tried to move her arms, but he kept them anchored to her sides as he swept his tongue into her mouth. This was possession, pure and simple.

Brynn’s heart pounded. Allowing her head to fall backward, she submitted to his kiss, his branding. And she wanted more of it. His hard, demanding lips sent every one of her nerve endings into overdrive. Her tits throbbed, her nipples hurt, her pussy clenched, feeling empty, hungry.

Iain let go of Brynn’s wrists and circled one arm around her hips, latching onto her ass, kneading it roughly while he thrust his other hand into her hair. He gripped it near the scalp and forced her head to one side.

Brynn slid her hands beneath his shirt and clung to his back. When he nipped her lower lip, her legs buckled. Fortunately, she was close to the bed, and with very little effort, Iain tipped her onto her back. He didn’t let go but followed her down, stretching himself out on top of her.

The edges of Brynn’s robe parted, and when Iain wedged his knee between her legs, the material of his slacks brushed against her bare pussy. Brynn ground her hips against him. The friction was amazing. Having Iain’s weight on top of her, his tongue tangling with hers—so good.

When he rose to his knees and tugged off his shirt, Brynn reached out, unbuckling his belt. She wanted to see for herself just how big he was.

Iain fiddled with his cufflinks and tossed them to the floor before yanking the starched shirt from his arms. Brynn stopped working his belt and just stared up at him. His wide shoulders were perfection. The biceps were large and solid with veins running beneath the smooth skin. Her fingers itched to trace them.

She felt another wave of desire wash over her. That heady desire gave her license to ignore all her reservations and give in to temptation. Sitting, Brynn abandoned his belt and trailed her hands up his waist, past his sternum. Closing her eyes, she explored his shoulders and the shallow indentation where they met his arms.

When Iain pulled at her kimono sash, Brynn’s eyes popped open. She found him staring at her, his eyes dark and hungry as he untangled the knotted belt. With deft fingers, he had it loose in no time, then peeled the robe off her body.

Completely exposed to the cool air, her nipples became tight points. She tried to cover herself.

“No,” he ground out. That one word had Brynn lowering her hands. “Don’t you dare cover up. I need to see you right now. Been thinking about it all bloody day.”

Brynn had never felt this sexually attractive. Potent. Feminine. He placed both palms over her breasts, and his hands felt delicious, his warmth intoxicating. But when he abandoned her breasts a moment later, her body turned cold at the loss of contact.

Iain stepped back from the bed and removed his pants. Now he stood in front of her wearing only silky, black boxers from which the head of his dick poked out of the waistband. A dot of moisture glistened along the slit. Brynn’s need suppressed all the fear, the doubt, the worry that usually plagued her. She lowered her head to lick that drop—salty with a hint of sweetness. Then, darting her tongue out, she swirled it around the tip, like an ice cream cone.

“Brynn.” Iain’s rough voice demanded attention. Brynn lifted her head and looked up into his eyes. “Touch me, pet.” He tugged the boxers down over his hips and his cock bobbed forward, longer and thicker than she’d imagined.

Instead of grasping him in her hand, Brynn gently tracked the length of him with one finger, all the way down to his sac. He shivered when she touched him there. So Brynn did it again, lightly scraping her nail across his skin. She smiled when his dick twitched. Before she could repeat the motion, Iain grabbed both of her hands and had her flat on her back. He stretched out beside her, forcing her arms above her head, keeping both of her wrists secured in his firm grip. When Brynn tried to pull away, she found herself captive.
Yes, finally.
This was what her body craved.