Seduction (23 page)

‘That's it. Move for me. Lift yourself into my touch. You need it.'

Pressure built between her thighs. Pleasure cascaded through her senses, threatening to spill her out of control. ‘Don't. I can't!'

‘Yes, you can and you will. I'm not going to give you a choice.' His fingers slid over her clit, teasing her, tormenting her until she lost the ability to do anything but sob, moan and lift into his touch. ‘That's it, move for me. Move for me and let it happen.'

Her vision blurred, her breath hitching in the back of her throat. Pressure claimed her sex. Her lower lips throbbed, her clit burning. She couldn't stop what was happening. She didn't want to stop it.

Her heels pressed against the bedding.

‘Please!'

‘Come for me. Come for me now!'

‘I can't!' She needed something more. Something she didn't want to admit to. Not here. Not now.

‘Tell me why.'

‘No!'

‘Do it!'

‘Fuck me. God, please, fuck me!' The words tore from her mouth before she could stop them.

He moved before she had the chance to regret her words. His thick cock slid easily into her clenching pussy, filling her, stretching her walls until she sobbed in delight. His balls slapped against her body. Slick, hungry sounds filled the air. Nothing else mattered beyond the feel of his cock within her tight, heated pussy.

He thrust into her, slamming her body against the bed. The springs creaked beneath them, her hips lifting to meet each demanding, sensual slam into her body until she no longer knew where he ended and she began.

‘Come!' The order was clear as it cut through the fog of her arousal.

What other choice did she have? She screamed, her body tight, wracked by pleasure, pain, fear and need all rolled into one. Lights danced across her vision. She tried to hold back, but her body wouldn't let her. It hit in waves. Delicious, sensual, frightening waves of hunger and pleasure, pressure that ripped through her being until she collapsed on the bed in a sobbing, shaking heap, barely even aware of Mike's roar of delight.

Yes, just one night, that's all she'd wanted, but who said the night had to end now?

WHAT WAS IT
about weddings and ‘Dancing Queen'?

It had gotten to the stage where as soon as Megan heard those first
ahs
she fled for the door, with some
ahs
of a very different tone ringing through her head. In her midnight-blue taffeta gown she swept out onto the hotel veranda while the evening took off inside. She breathed a sigh of relief that another round of bridesmaid's duties could be struck off the list.

Always the bridesmaid, and all that. Maybe she should consider it as a professional option. It would be a break from the office.

The thought of work made that part of her mind pop back into life, like the genie from the bottle. Although work didn't grant many wishes. It paid the bills, bought her a comfortable life, apartment and car, and a wardrobe out of
Sex and the City
. But did that make up for a lot of very long, lonely hours? Megan let out a sigh. Perhaps she should be inside celebrating. But the thought of the Parker House project file sitting on her desk overshadowed the evening.

She couldn't really leave this early. Not as a bridesmaid. It wasn't fair on Sally.

A low chuckle rippled over the bare skin of her back, toying with the sensitive hairs which had come loose at the top of her neck.

‘You're not going to do a Cinderella, are you, Meg?' asked Richard. He leaned against the wall, a drink in one hand, his collar unbuttoned.

‘Richard?' She gave a squawk of surprise as she saw her old college friend. ‘My God! How are you? Have you just got here?'

Richard laughed as he hugged her. His fingertips lingered against her shoulder blades before he released her. Megan's body jerked in response to his touch and she flushed. ‘Just an evening invite for me. Then again, I haven't seen them since college so fair's fair.'

‘I haven't seen
you
since college. Where have you been? Wait: are Blake and Daniel with you?'

She tried to look back into the room, seeking out the two other familiar faces from their college years. Richard, Blake and Daniel had always been together. The three musketeers, she used to call them. Damn, she had done everything with them, same courses, same social clubs. Everything except the obvious. But, to be honest, the three of them came as a unit. She had loved them all. How could she ever have picked just one?

‘I don't think the blushing bride wanted to blush quite as much as she would if Blake turned up. He might give the groom some tips.'

Megan's disappointment was shot through with mirth. She had forgotten about Blake's fling with Sally. Then again, Blake had ‘flung' just about every girl in their year, not to mention the years on either side. Some of the boys too, so rumour would have it. ‘How is he?'

‘The charm is still very much intact. Daniel is running a rare book shop.'

‘And you?'

He had changed over the ten years. No surprise there. So had she, no longer the pushover she had been. She wouldn't have survived in business if she'd stayed that way.

Richard had filled out, grown into himself perhaps. The same
good looks carried a different tone now, more masculine. His blue eyes exuded control and practicality, command, such a bright blue that she wanted to breathe a little faster. Travelling – his only long-term goal on leaving college – had obviously suited him. Somewhere inside her, something was unwinding, something unexpected.

‘As you'd expect, I suppose. Dad died.'

‘Oh, I'm sorry!' She hadn't expected that. Not at all. ‘Recently?'

‘Five years ago. I've been running the estate since then. You should come and visit.'

Megan remembered the manor house which Richard called home and couldn't help but smile. The thought of a lazy weekend there was certainly tempting. But . . . how could she afford the time away? She sighed again. ‘I'd love to but –'

‘Great,' he said, not allowing her to finish. ‘What about the Bank Holiday weekend? If you want, I can see what Blake and Daniel are up to.'

She squirmed. ‘I have a lot of work to . . .' Her voice failed her as Richard reached out and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, his touch delicate as a butterfly. His eyes trapped hers, nothing like as harmless as they used to be. Heat warmed their depths and that same heat welled in the base of her stomach. To her surprise, Megan's core melted and a jab of desire left her breathless.

‘Come,' he said. ‘It would be so good to catch up. And they would love to see you again.'

The others . . . the others would be there as well. Her breathing eased a little and she shifted, embarrassed. ‘Well, why not? You're right. It would be like old times, a weekend with the three musketeers.'

Richard lifted his glass to her in a toast. ‘All for one,' he murmured.

Megan was late leaving the office. It was almost eight when her phone rang. Her PA sounded flustered. Meg began to smile, because he was normally unflappable, but his words made her breath stop in her throat.

‘There's a gentleman here to pick you up. Blake Regan.'

‘I'll be out in a minute.' She hung up and stared at her reflection in the monitor, amazed at the schoolgirl reaction that had seized her. Her stomach flipped and she swallowed hard.

A cough brought her head up sharply. Blake stood in the doorway, glowering at her.

‘Aren't you meant to be driving down to Richard's?' His voice sounded deeper than she remembered. He'd let his black hair grow long, and it curled thickly against his broad shoulders. The smile had never looked so wicked. ‘I've come to carry you off, so shut down the laptop, there's a good girl.'

She laughed to hide her irritation. ‘I'm really behind.'

But Blake didn't back down. ‘You certainly are. Now are you coming with me, or am I going to have to tip you over my shoulder and carry you out?'

Only Blake could have said it to her. Uncertainly, she lifted her gaze to meet his. ‘It's good to see you too.' She kept her tone stiff and formal, giving him the withering look that made office juniors shrink in on themselves and seek ways of escape.

Blake cocked his head to one side and the grin turned rakish. ‘This is new. I like this. So am I kidnapping you, Madam CEO, or are you going to come quietly?'

Megan threw up her hands. ‘All right. I surrender,' she laughed. ‘Whatever you want?'

‘That's the general idea, love.' Blake pulled her out of her chair into an embrace, kissing her cheek with surprisingly soft lips. She pulled back awkwardly, surprised. Blake had never shown any interest in her in college.

‘My . . . my bag's in my car.' Her cheek burned where he had
kissed her, and she fancied she could still feel phantom lips brushing against her there.

‘Good,' he said. ‘We'll pick it up on the way. I'm driving.'

Megan dozed off in the car. It had been so long since she had sat with nothing to do and Blake, for some reason, was none too talkative on the long drive through the dark countryside. They chatted idly at first, his old playfulness returning as soon as he got his own way. He made a good living as an alternative therapist, massage and aromatherapy, which made her smile. His answering grin turned wickeder than ever.

Megan woke when the car slowed, crunching across gravel. Opening her eyes, she found Blake watching her, a peculiar expression shadowing his face.

‘We're here, Sleeping Beauty. Need a moment?'

Megan discovered her neatly pinned hair undone and the jacket of her business suit unbuttoned. She glanced suspiciously at Blake as she slipped the button back into place and tried to tidy herself up. Megan ran her fingers through her chestnut hair, smoothing it back from her face, and then checked her watch. It was after ten.

Her stomach rumbled. There had been a fairly insipid sandwich around lunchtime but that was hours ago. A lot of hours ago.

‘Hungry?' Blake chuckled. ‘Come on, Meg. Richard was expecting you for dinner. Some of it might not be ruined. You were never this difficult to distract in college. When did you lose your sense of adventure?'

‘Me?'

When had she
had
a sense of adventure?

She sat in the bubble of light of the car's interior, while Blake crunched around the car to open her door. He took her hand, helping her out, holding on longer than strictly necessary. ‘Yes. You.'

Daniel greeted Megan at the door and her heart leaped with delight just to see him. They'd kept in contact at first, but soon it was just emails at Christmas, and then nothing. He knew how she had struggled in the early years. She saw that in his eyes.

‘It's been too long, Meg.' He whirled her around in strong arms. ‘You look amazing. You've haven't changed a bit.' Behind her, Blake gave a snort of laughter. Nothing dimmed his cynicism. ‘Ignore him.' Daniel drew her into the hall, studying her in the light. ‘You look tired. Have you been burning the candle at both ends?'

His remonstration made her feel ashamed. She had thrown herself into her work, but then again what else could she do? A couple of disastrous relationships had persuaded her that no man could embody everything she was looking for. She was good at her job, damned good. It didn't seem fair that she'd had to work three times as hard as everyone else to be considered an equal.

She almost sagged right there where she stood. Daniel saw right through her, just as Blake had been unimpressed by her business persona. They knew her better than anyone in her life today. They weren't out to charm the boss, or make a profit. Or worse. She missed their company so much, her musketeers. Just being with them was like awakening from a bad dream. Shame she felt so tired.

Daniel's hands on her upper arms were both a comfort and a strength. Always the most perceptive of the three, his rich brown eyes soothed her heart.

‘Food first, I think. Then a bath and a good night's sleep.' Blake growled something from behind them, but Daniel – gentle caring Daniel – cast him a sharp glare and to her amazement Blake retreated. ‘We have the whole weekend together.' He slipped his arm around her shoulders and steered her further into the house.

The three men had not changed much, Megan decided, but their characters had become more deeply ingrained in the years since she had seen them last.

Richard poured her wine and pressed the glass into her hand. ‘I'm so glad you decided to come.'

Megan rolled her eyes. ‘You didn't give me a lot of choice, sending the muscle.' She glared at Blake. ‘If you say as much as a word, Blake . . .'

A thousand corny retorts sparkled in his eyes, but he pressed his lips together. Megan fought back a laugh. It was hard not to forgive Blake anything when he looked at her like that.

Daniel placed an omelette in front of her, rich and fragrant, filled with melted cheese.

Megan sighed. ‘Remember these on Sunday mornings?'

‘I remember the hangovers,' said Blake.

Richard poured more wine. ‘I remember
your
hangovers.'

They watched her eat, chatting about old times, and Megan felt the regret of the time she had missed with them fading to a memory as the pleasure of being with them again grew. Nevertheless, as she finished her dinner, she found herself yawning.

Richard ruffled her hair. ‘It's been a long time since you just had fun, hasn't it? Let's get you to bed, Meg. We can all catch up tomorrow.'

‘I don't tend to sleep this early. Night owl, you know?'

‘I think I can do something about that,' Blake rumbled, getting to his feet. Megan's heart jerked up inside her, and pounded at her ribs. An ache burst back into life inside her, a raw need that had never been fulfilled. She glanced from Blake to Richard and then to Daniel.