10 Ways to Steal Your Lover (7 page)

 
      
That was all the invitation he needed.

 
      
Determined now to wring every last drop
of pleasure from her, Kane peeled her legs—one at a time—from around his hips
so he could palm her ass, her knees bending over his elbows. Holding the firm
globes tight and her body as open as it could be, he took full advantage,
driving into her and savoring every stroke. She levered herself forward,
joining their mouths and tangling their tongues, while her pussy clamped around
him again, just about blowing the top of his head.

 
      
He swore virulently in his mind,
desperate to make it last, wanting to feel her around him forever. With each
surge, he lost more of his tenuous control until finally, his vision went white
and pleasure so strong it felt like pain burst through him from head to toe. He
emptied himself into her, his face buried in the crook of her neck, reveling in
the way she held him until the tremors stopped for both of them.

 
      
The water, still hot thanks to the
miracle of hotel water heaters, poured around them, making the only sound apart
from their slowly normalizing breathing. Delilah made no moves to separate from
him and he had no desire to pull away either. Instead she ran her hands up and
down his back, offering comfort of sorts.

 
      
“We’re in a lot of trouble, Kane.”

 
      
“Yeah? Why’s that?” Because nothing could
possibly be bad after making love like that. It took him a second to come up
with another option, one he should have considered as soon as he got up to follow
her into the closet and certainly before he plowed the poor woman against the
shower wall. “Shit, I’m sorry, Del. I didn’t even think about protection—”

 
      
“No, no, that’s not it. I get a regular
depo shot. Craig didn’t want to risk me forgetting a pill.” Her lips turned
sad, but her face still had the glow of a woman well satisfied and her eyes…
Her eyes glittered with regret. “I mean we’re in trouble because no matter how
good we are sexually, we can’t keep doing this until we find out for sure what
happened last night. Even if we want to.”

 
      
She would never know how hard it was to
pull back and drag his brain cells back together enough to think about what she
was saying. There was hope in that “until” and even more in the “even if we
want to”. Because he had every intention of making love to her again. Over and
over again. Every chance he could get.

 
      
But he had to accept her limits or this
would be over before it began.

 
      
“We should probably find some clothes
then. Start retracing our steps. You’re right. We don’t know for sure if you really
married me. That’s something I want to find out as soon as we can.” The sooner
that was settled, the better. Anything else after that would either not matter
or be just details to work out.

 
      
“That’s your priority? Not the money in
the closet? Not how we both ended up with short term blackouts?” She pushed at
his shoulders, making it clear she wanted to separate.

 
      
Snatching a kiss—one she responded to
whether she liked it or not and that he liked a whole hell of a lot—he helped
her find her feet, withdrawing from her with a small groan of fading pleasure.

 
      
When he looked down at her again, there
was a definite frown on her swollen, well-kissed mouth. “You can’t keep doing
that, Kane. I’m serious.”

 
      
“Pulling out? It wasn’t my idea,
sweetheart. I’m all for—”

 
      
Her hand flattened across his mouth again
while she rolled her eyes. “The kissing, you sex addict. You have to stop kissing
me. Every time you do I feel like rolling over and handing you an engraved
invitation for sex.”

 
      
He grinned and pulled her hand down. “I
like engravings.”

 
      
“I’ll just bet you do, but as you can
see, my lame excuse for morals gets a little too flexible where you’re
concerned. I just… I want to be sure we’re not hurting anyone and right now,
I’m worried we’re hurting a lot of people. Possibly ourselves, too.”

 
      
She looked so miserable he could only
sigh as he caressed her jaw. His thumb traced the bottom of her lip. “First
rule of life with me, Del. You will always be my priority. Period. Second rule?
I’m going to do that every chance I get.” To punctuate his point, he dropped
another slower, wetter kiss on her lips. He made sure she was soft and limp in
his arms before he lifted his head again.

 
      
She struggled to frown at him but finally,
she gave in and smiled. “I should have known you were going to be trouble the
moment I met you.”

 
      
“Be honest now, Del,” he said, grinning
at her because he couldn’t help it and because he knew she liked it. “You know
you did.”

 
      
The blush on her cheeks rose up again,
but all she did was smack him in the stomach before sidestepping him to reclaim
the sponge.

 
      
At first, Kane thought the whispering started
because Delilah none-too-lightly knocking her head on their table at the
breakfast buffet was bound to catch someone’s attention. But when she stopped,
picking up her face to rub at the red mark on her forehead, he noticed the
strange whispers from the guys three tables over only grew more excited.

 
      
He put them out of his mind, watching his
wife—yes, he was going to call her that as often as possible and enjoy it while
he could—try to arrange her ebony bangs over the spot that was only getting
bigger for her efforts. How on earth she ever thought she’d be happy as Craig’s
trophy wife, he didn’t know. She was too cute, too…well, not to put too fine a
point on it, but goofy, for Craig’s sometimes uppity business circles. Throw in
her penchant for sneaking classes at the Community college when she could find
them at times that wouldn’t interfere with Craig’s ever shifting schedule and
it was a match made in one-sided hell.

 
      
Truth was, if Craig hadn’t made friends
with him and Jesse back in their early teens, odds were good Craig himself
would be too uppity for Delilah. Sure, she was gorgeous, but she lacked the
aloofness to be a society maven. Perfect poise was not in her skill set, thank
God. She was funny, had knee jerk reactions and far too much personality spilling
out of her at every turn to be anything less than the center of attention. Well,
his attention, anyway.

 
      
So bemused, he watched her, if not
completely grateful that they were out of the hotel room, then at least happy
she hadn’t insisted on going back to her family without at least trying to
piece together what they’d done the night before.

 
      
Of course, getting them both downstairs
had taken a little bit of work with no clothes they could go back out in. They
had his wallet, at least, which he found in the pocket of his coat and her
phone, which had apparently been shoved into a silk pouch along with makeup and
her driver’s license. No shoes, no hat—which sucked because dammit, he missed
his hat—and no change of underwear. Other than that, the room didn’t yield much
but a couple bags full of money.

 
      
But what a room it was, even for those
faults.

 
      
While the two-story Honeymoon Suite in
what turned out to in fact be the Crown Palace Casino wasn’t at all the kind of
place he’d pick himself—rather doubted it was the kind of place Delilah would
pick either—it was the kind of place that when you called from it to the front
desk, they hopped to get you what you wanted almost before you finished asking
for it. Within twenty minutes of hanging up, a selection of jeans, shirts and
blouses had been delivered to their door. The undergarments were the only
things he gave specific requests about and God bless them, the front desk came
through in style.

 
      
When he’d handed her a stack, she took
them without question, getting all the way to the stairs again before turning
around, holding up a ridiculously small piece of pink silk by one finger.

 
      
If he had smiled, he’d had a feeling that
the itty-bitty thong was going to get baled up and aimed at his head. Since he
wanted her wearing them when that silk hit him in the face, he’d kept his
expression as still as possible. He just wished the robe he had been wearing
had done a little more to cover his reaction to her silent provocation.

 
      
“Let me guess, you’d buy your wife
lingerie.”

 
      
At the prospect of buying her more,
draping her in sensuality that he’d get to peel away with his fingers and lips
and even his teeth, he could only clench his jaw and nod.

 
      
She’d eyed him for a long minute before
turning and walking back up to the bedroom.

 
      
“Does that mean you’ll wear it?”

 
      
“Maybe,” she’d called down, without
looking back. “Maybe not.”

 
      
So here he sat, dressed in jeans and a
simple white tee that cost nearly five times as much as any of the ones he had
at home and couldn’t help but wonder which option his decidedly adorable—and
possibly dented—bride had chosen.

 
      
At least the clothes were comfortable,
even the new tennis shoes. Delilah’s clothes seemed to fit her just as well,
her jeans molded to her lush curves, the blue tank top and short sleeve blouse
combo turning her back into the Delilah he knew so well. She’d pulled her hair
back into a ponytail, but no amount of fussing would make her thick black bangs
fall over the red mark on her forehead.

 
      
“If she weren’t my favorite grandmother,
I’d have to kill Rainbow.” Delilah groused, finally giving up. “Please don’t
let me do that again. I think I nearly gave myself a concussion.”

 
      
Kane shrugged, leaning back in the booth.
Now that he thought about it, he probably should have relayed the info about
the champagne glass upstairs instead of waiting until her stomach rumbling
reminded him they had good cause to eat and flush any remnants of the drug out
of their systems. “You’re entitled. Not every day you find out your grandmother
roofied you.”

 
      
“Technically, she herbalized me.
Rainbow’s license doesn’t grant her access to GHB.”

 
      
“Because peyote is so much better?”

 
      
Del peered at him with one squinting eye.
“You know, if you’re going to treat me like I’m your wife, I’d be well within
my rights to treat you like my husband and kick your teeth in for mocking my
grandmother.”

 
      
He grinned. How could he not? “This isn’t
mocking.”

 
      
“No?”

 
      
“No. Telling you that you look like your
mother when you squint like that is mocking.”

 
      
The bottom of her foot shoved at his
shin, which should have made him swear, but only had him laughing instead. “Why
did I marry you again?”

 
      
Rubbing his leg with one hand, he batted
away more blows. “Because I’m good looking and I’m incredible in bed?”

 
      
“Wow, you actually said that without a
trace of modesty.”

 
      
“Who needs modesty when your wife can be
heard screaming your name for three states?” A baled-up napkin flew at his
face, but Kane just caught it with a last chuckle. “Does that mean you’re going
to stop trying to flatten your face and eat something or do you have some kinky
plans for self-mutilation next?”

 
      
A glance down at the flatware. “The forks
here are certainly big enough but I think I’ll pass for now and go straight for
the danish.”

 
      
“Sign said they had an omelet station
here.” She had an unholy love for omelets piled with enough protein to choke a
python and slathered with as much melty cheese as she could get to stay on the
plate. Sherman, his ranch cook, would absolutely love having her around.