10 Ways to Steal Your Lover (2 page)

 
      
He slowed his thrusts, confused, until
she whimpered, her nails adding bite to that gentle caress. “No, God, don’t
stop.”

 
      
Like he could. His cock felt like it was
about to burst already. But something wasn’t quite right…

 
      
“Please, Kane… Harder. I’m so close…” She
closed her eyes, turning her face away and arching for a deeper penetration.

 
      
He groaned at the sensation, but confused
or not, he wasn’t going to let her turn from him again. He left her breast to
cup her chin, turning it back his way. “Look at me, Delilah,” he ground out,
when her eyes widened in surprise. “Watch me while I make you come.”

 
      
He didn’t wait for her to agree, mating
their mouths together with almost primal force, pushing his tongue into her
mouth to gorge on the taste of her. She groaned into him, returning the
marauding with strokes of her own. He sat back onto his heels, bringing her
with him until the kiss broke, but she kept those sleepy eyes fixed on his face
as he’d commanded. His hands coursed down hers, over every inch of that creamy
skin until he fit them over the curves of her hips. Her hands came down on his
outer thighs, desperate for a balance he wouldn’t allow her. He commanded her
rise and descent on him, a fact that gave him a kind of brutal satisfaction.

 
      
“Kane, please,” she whispered.

 
      
That was all it took to snap his control.

 
      
Lifting her until only the very tip of
him nestled at her opening, he thrust his hips upward, slamming home. She cried
out, a gasp so excited he could feel the pleasure of it against his skin. Followed
quickly by a second and a third. Each push had her tightening, her cream
flowing steadily down his length while her hands stretched out wildly for
purchase. He helped her find his forearms, which she gripped so tight all he
could feel was her pulling him up for more.

 
      
“Kane, yes, yes,” she said, bouncing
against his hold as best she could, her voice rising until she was simply
gasping his name over and over. Giving in, he pounded into her without thought
or mercy, his body jackhammering while her cries turned into a keening scream
and her pussy rippled around him, milking his cock relentlessly.

 
      
Finally, fucking finally, the pressure
within him burst and he yanked her down to grind into her as deep as he could
reach, joining her orgasm, almost as if it were his own. She clenched around
him, her ass still moving against him, lighting stars in the back of his head
and leaving him wrung out like an old rag.

 
      
Well, that wasn’t new. Delilah had been
making him see stars since he met her. KO’d, down for the count.

 
      
What was new, though, was that the dream
wasn’t over.

 
      
Usually, when he came in these dreams he
woke up still thrusting into ruined sheets, his face pressed into a pillow.

 
      
This time, he was most assuredly still
balls deep inside Delilah McGavin, his face pressed into the mass of silken
black hair now that they’d fallen to their sides on a bed far too nice to be
his. Like him, she was gasping, trying to catch her breath. She was also
bonelessly limp, her sweat slick body slathered over his, their legs tangled,
their sexes still throbbing against each other, fitted together like a lock and
a key.

 
      
“Delilah?” he asked after a few more
silent seconds passed and he still didn’t wake up.

 
      
“Mmmm?” More of a purr than a reply.

 
      
“This isn’t a dream, is it?”

 
      
He thought she might have stiffened, but
her body didn’t have the energy to hold it. Instead, long seconds later, she
sighed, turning her head to look up at him with an altogether too hard to
decipher shadow in her eyes.

 
      
He knew the answer before her kiss-swollen
lips pursed to form the word, but he held his breath anyway. Waiting for
himself to be wrong.

 
      
Please, God, let him be wrong.

 
      
“No.”

 
      
Shit.

 
      
“I guess that means you don’t know how we
got here either, then?” Delilah brushed her hair off her forehead, almost
wishing she didn’t have this absolute lassitude. The melted-chocolate sensation
throughout every cell of her body made it entirely too difficult to feel the
guilt she knew she should be feeling. Her fiancé’s best friend was even now
wedged deep inside her body, their skin slick and all but glued to each other,
but instead of guilt or horror or self-disgust, she had the strangest urge to
grin.

 
      
She’d just had the most incredible sex of
her life with the sexiest man she’d ever known.

 
      
That was something to grin about, wasn’t
it?

 
      
Given the way Kane’s jaw hung open and
the abject horror on his face, probably not.

 
      
Wincing, she forced herself to turn away
from him again, searching around for something to cover herself with. Naked
with a man who looked at you like you were a snake who’d snuck into his bed had
a way of tamping down any notion except escape. Seeing the edge of the sheet on
the floor, she grabbed it, throwing it over herself and pulling away from the
man beneath her. He groaned, his hands tightening on her hips as if he meant to
keep her right where she was, but she just couldn’t bear it.

 
      
“Del—”

 
      
“I’ll just be in the shower.” She was on
shaking legs, determined to make it to the bathroom where she could close the
door and be horrified all by herself. She got all of three steps to the closed
door but he was right on her tail, spinning her around when her hand reached
the knob.

 
      
“Wait a second, okay?”

 
      
She wasn’t about to make eye contact
again, though. “No, I really need to get in the shower.”

 
      
“Delilah.” Oh, man, Kane’s voice dropped
into that deeper, authoritative tone that did the strangest things to her
stomach. She only heard it every now and then, like when her teasing was
pushing his buttons or when he was talking to his foreman on the phone. She bit
back a whimper. Dammit, Kane was lethally sexy, even when she was desperate to
escape him. If she let him talk to her now, she was going to say or do
something stupid. Stupider than waking up and letting him screw her senseless
even after figuring out that he wasn’t Craig.

 
      
She was an engaged woman, for God’s sake!
Engaged women did not have mind-blowing sex with men who were not their future
husbands. Or at least, they shouldn’t. And she still had no idea how she’d
ended up in that bed in the first place. No, now was the time to panic and hide
in the bathroom. It was the only plan she had and she was determined to follow
through, twisting out of his grip and pushing out of his hold. Thankfully, the
door opened just enough for her to slip inside, but Kane was right there with
her, making it impossible to shut the door on him. His big body wedged itself
between the door and the jamb. Worse, the stupid sheet hadn’t followed her
completely into the room, even if she could push him out, she’d never get the
door closed.

 
      
“Del, stop.”

 
      
“No.” She kicked at the sheet to drag it
in with her, pushing at his rock-solid shoulder, her head down so she wouldn’t
have to look him in the eye again.

 
      
“Del, damn it, you’re trying to lock
yourself in the closet.”

 
      
Well, that brought her head up. She
looked around, realizing he was right. Instead of tiles and a sink or toilet,
she was surrounded by shelves and rods. The half-second distraction was all he
needed to push her away from the door and follow her inside the walk-in. If she
hadn’t tangled her feet with the sheet, that’s probably all that would have
happened, but she did. When she started to pitch backward, she grabbed the only
thing within reach—which happened to be his neck—and promptly found herself
flat on her back with his very naked, very heavy body slammed on top of hers.

 
      
“Shit, are you okay?” Kane scrambled to
get off her, lifting his upper body on his forearms while she tried to blink
her eyes enough times to make the stars go away.

 
      
“I think so,” she sputtered, feeling like
a pancake and simultaneously realizing the sheet must have slipped away in the
hubbub. Meaning that while the top of her body was covered well enough by the
sheet, her bare ass had just gotten a hell of a burn on the carpet.

 
      
The utter ridiculousness of the situation
finally sank in, tickling at her throat. Worse, when she looked up at Kane, the
big rancher who usually moved like a well-oiled machine, he was balancing like
a cat trying to walk on two high-wires above her. Her lips twitched, the
tickling now an almost hysterical itch.

 
      
Kane’s brow suddenly furrowed, no doubt
reading her mind with that almost eerie knack he had, a scowl darkening his
handsome face. “Don’t you dare laugh, Delilah Anne.”

 
      
“Of course not,” she managed, a giggle
messing up her attempt to be serious. But really, Kane was the only one on
earth who used her full name and every time he did he was trying to tell her
what to do. How could she possibly take him seriously like this? Just like
that, the giggle turned into a snort, which only made him scowl more and by
then she’d lost it completely. He looked so determined and worried about
squashing her but he hadn’t given a thought to what he might be doing to her
spleen when he’d been ramming her like jack hammer a few scant minutes ago.

 
      
That thought got her cracking up harder.

 
      
“Del, come on, this isn’t a laughing
matter.”

 
      
She whooped, her hands landing on his
shoulders while she tried to breathe. He rolled his eyes, but she could see the
corners of his lips pulling upward. Ah, the smile… She loved his smile. Always
had, especially once she knew how rare they were. Just getting the corners of
his mouth to curl was a triumph in her book and it had been so long since she’d
earned one. Even better, this smile hinted at the straight white teeth he
always seemed to hide. As far as she knew, she was one of only a few to have
even seen them.

 
      
Kane was an exceptionally handsome man,
yes, but most people were put off by his stern disposition. His ranch kept him
busier than anyone she knew, but he managed to find time every few months to
visit them in Vegas for dinner and a little time out with the boys, as Craig called
it. Craig, Kane and Jesse, three friends who’d met at summer camp when they
were thirteen and maintained their friendship against all odds into adulthood.
She couldn’t imagine three men more different—Craig the slick city banker, Kane
the rugged rancher and Jesse the wild musician—but she had to admit, when they
were together, she’d never seen more devoted friends.

 
      
Through ups and downs, they’d stayed in
touch with phone calls and letters, leading eventually to emails and texts and
they never went more than three months without seeing one another.

 
      
At least, not until she’d come into their
lives.

 
      
Finally, that sobered her.

 
      
Jesse always managed a trip, but after
she moved in with Craig, Kane’s visits became more spaced. He blamed it on the
ranch’s expansions, but Delilah knew it was her. Knew because she’d felt his
eyes on her. Felt his desire like a caress, no matter that he never said a word
or made the slightest move on her. If anything, the last year he gave her such
a wide berth it was almost a joke. Finally, he stopped coming altogether, until
Craig insisted he come for the wedding preparations. He hadn’t taken no for an
answer.

 
      
And now, here she was, underneath the
body of the wrong man.