The Trouble with Temptation (31 page)

He rubbed his cheek against hers. “That look on your face isn’t nothing.”

“Maybe. But there’s nothing you can do about it.” She turned and slid her arms around his waist. “How is Marc doing?”

He wanted to push it, but figured now wasn’t the time. “Okay. I guess.” Tucking her up snug against him, he rubbed his cheek against her hair. “He’s busying himself with some blends for next year and going crazy about a fungus that he thinks
could
hit our crops.”

“A fungus.” Hannah wrinkled her nose as she looked up at him. “What, like a grape fungus?”

Brannon flashed her a grin. “The exciting life of a vintner, Hannah.”

“Hmmm. I bet.” She reached up, almost absently, and scraped her fingers against his jaw. “Neve was telling me something about how she’s getting schooled in winemaking—you roped her into helping write copy for the brochures.” A faint grin came and went. “I’ve got to admit, I like my wine, but my eyes glazed over after she started explaining there are like five hundred chemical compounds—”

“Fifteen hundred.”

Hannah blinked and then her eyes
really
started to glaze. “Ah … whoa. Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” Grinning, he hugged her. “But don’t worry. I won’t bore you with the details and specifics, or tell you why you only find wines like muscadines down south.”

“Gee. Thanks.” She rubbed the mound of her belly and went back to staring outside. Rain was starting to come down. It was those hard, slow drops that were a prelude to a heavy storm. “I really don’t want to talk about muscadine wine anyway. Seeing as how I can’t have any for a few more months.”

A heavy sigh escaped her. “I could really use a glass of wine, too.”

“Why don’t you talk to me instead?”

For a moment, he thought she would.

But then she turned to him and placed her hands on his chest.

His heart made a hard leap when she covered it with her palm. “I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you distract me?”

Brannon suspected it wasn’t smart.

Whatever was bothering her, she really did need to talk about it. And he needed to be the guy she was able to talk to. He needed to be
the
guy period, because he was shit-faced in love with her and had been for … hell. He didn’t even know when it had started.

But then she trailed that hand down lower and cupped him through his jeans.

His eyes started to roll back in his head as she freed him from his jeans and briefs in short order. She closed her hand around him, moving with quick, rough strokes that would have had him coming all over her if she wasn’t careful.

He caught her wrist.

“Stop,” he rasped, backing her up against the window.

“I don’t want to.” She lifted her face to his, staring into his eyes. “I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to think. I just …
want
.”

“Hannah…” His heart broke a little.

“Make love to me, Brannon.” There was both plea and demand in her voice.

He was completely her slave, because he couldn’t deny her.

“I will.” He went to strip her shirt away, but she shoved him back and yanked it off.

“I don’t want slow.” She stared at him, a challenge in her eyes. “I don’t want
sweet
and I don’t want you to stroke me and pat me and try to make me feel better.”

She caught the lapels of his shirt and jerked him back to her.

“Then what do you want?”

“I want you to fuck me.” She stared at him, her gaze unapologetic. “I want you to make me forget all the things I’m starting to remember … and all the things I can’t.”

There, he realized.

That’s where the hurt was. Right there. But he couldn’t fix it. All he could do was be there … and this. He could do exactly what she’d just asked and he’d enjoy it. He’d enjoy it and pretend the twist and rub of guilt didn’t exist. He could ignore the guilt.

Staring into her eyes, he freed the front clasp of her bra and watched as her breasts swung free. They were big and full—she’d always had the most amazing breasts, but now they were enough to make his mouth water.

“I want to bite and suck on your nipples every time I see you,” he said.

Her eyes went dark and opaque.

“I’m fine with that idea.”

He braced his hands on the window by her head and said, “This is your show, Hannah. If that’s what you want … then show me.”

“My show?” She licked her lips and then a slow smile curled her lips and she reached up, curled her hands around the back of his head. “Come here, then. I want to feel your mouth on me.”

Her nipples were already swollen and when he sucked on one, she gasped, arching closer, her fingers tightening in his hair.

Brannon slid one hand down between her thighs, stroking his thumb against the crease there. Her breath caught—he heard it and sensed the anticipation building in her. But he didn’t do anything.

Yet.

“Your show, Hannah.”

She caught his wrist and guided it between her thighs. “Touch me.”

Touch her … it was like being given the keys to the kingdom … or a sweet car that had been specially designed just for him. There was a faint tremor to his limbs as he pressed the heel of his hand lightly against her mound and rubbed.

Hannah’s head fell back, a low humming sound of a moan building in her throat.

Her cheeks were flushed, her lashes lying low over her eyes.

She rocked against him.

He pressed harder.

She moved with more determination, riding his hand and as he bent over her, her lashes lifting until she was staring into his eyes with burning intensity.

“I want you naked,” he said.

“Okay.” Her lips bowed up in a smile.

He eased back. Eyes still on her face, he went to his knees in front of her, but after a moment, he looked down, gaze locking on the faint swell of her waist.

Her belly was getting thicker and the sight of it, the knowledge that his baby grew within her filled him with a crazy, burning need. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her navel.

“I want to see you holding our baby,” he whispered against her skin. “I want to watch her sleeping in your arms.”

A soft, shaking little moan escaped her and he looked up in time to see the glint of something bright in her eyes. But then that familiar, cocky smile returned and she said, “What … you think she’s a girl now, too?”

“Girl. Boy.” He rubbed his cheek against her belly. “It doesn’t matter. I just want her healthy … and I want to hold both of you.”

Her hands came up and cradled the back of his head. “Damn it, Brannon. I’m wanting hot and crazy monkey sex and you’re making me weepy.”

He chuckled and slid his hands up, cupping the ripe curve of her ass. “Can’t have that.”

Through her thin cotton pants, he nuzzled her. She was already wet. He could feel it and the thought of stripping her bare, taking her here, like this, was now a pulse in his brain.

But he forced himself to move slow, to tease and stroke.

But she wasn’t feeling that—she twisted her fingers in his hair and hooked one leg over his shoulders. “Stop
teasing
,” she bit off.

“Is this teasing?” He ran his thumb over her and he’d swear her body temperature shot up five degrees. Even through the yoga pants and panties, he could feel her getting wetter and his cock gave a demanding jerk as he thought about sinking inside her.

Right here.

With her back against the wide, dark pane of glass as the rain pounded down outside …

Thunder boomed and it was like it started to pulse inside him as well, adding to the frenzy of the moment.

He swore and stood up, impatient now. Shoving his hands inside her pants, he cupped her ass, pulled her close. He could feel the wet warmth of her clear through his jeans and he moved deliberately against her, watching her eyes widen, as her throat worked.

A moan shuddered out of her and he did it again, circling his hips in the cradle of hers as he kissed her mouth, licking at her parted lips, feeling her hungry moan.

Again and again, he moved, feeling how close she was to coming, just from that lazy, teasing movement, his cock abrading her through their clothes.

He didn’t want that, though. He wanted to feel her coming around him, hot and wet.

But when he went to pull away, she clung to him, whimpering low in her throat and bringing one knee up, opening herself more fully.

Brannon shuddered.

“Please…”

Swearing, he spun her around and began to pump his hips against her ass. She whimpered and then cried out as he shoved one hand down the front of her pants, seeking out the honeyed depths between her thighs. Slick heat greeted him and the moment he touched her, she started to ride his hand.

He screwed two fingers inside her pussy and bit her ear.

She came—hard and fast. She clung to the arm he’d wrapped around her waist as she rode the hand between her thighs.

When she turned her head around and up, he pressed his lips to hers, desperate and hungry for more. He pushed his tongue into her mouth.

She bit, then sucked on him and his cock gave a hard, hungry jerk, practically yowling at him.

Impatient now, he shoved her pants down. They tangled around her ankles and she kicked them out of the way before he had a chance to deal with them.

He tried to crowd her up against the window sill, but she wiggled free and braced her hands against his chest, staring boldly up at him. “My game, remember?”

“You’re trying to kill me.” Bending his head to hers, he scraped his teeth down her neck.

She reached for the buttons on his shirt. “You spent half your life completely oblivious to the fact that I wanted you … needed you. You can suffer a little now.”

She stared at him through her lashes as she slowly freed each button. “Off.”

He shrugged out of it.

But she wasn’t done.

She scraped her nails down his chest, circled them around his nipples.

He swore and moved against her, rocking his cock against her thigh.

“That’s not going to help you.”

“I don’t care.” He bit her ear, tangling her hair in his fist. Anything to distract himself—oh
, fuck
—she cupped his balls and tugged.

Dragging air in, he shoved his weight up, looking down at her as she wrapped cool fingers around the base of his cock, working him free of his shorts and jeans. When she was done, she slid her hand down, all the way down to the base and then back up.

Then down.

Back.

He covered her hand with his and started to pump.

“Hey!”

He silenced her protect with a desperate kiss. “You’re taunting a desperate man, Hannah,” he warned.

She laughed, the sound low and husky and then, under his grasp, squeezing him, dragging the milking sensation out.

He swore.

*   *   *

Hannah could have done it forever, stroking him and watching his eyes glaze with potent mix of desperation and desire. Caressing him and feeling that long, hard body shake. Touching him and watching his normally impassive eyes go foggy with need.

She would have laughed when he started to curse, a litany of noises that made little sense, but then he boosted her up and braced her against the window. She yelped as she came in contact with the cold, then reached for him, wrapping her arms around wide shoulders.

He came inside her in the next breath and she cried out, throwing her head back against the pane of glass. Thunder crashed and she clamped down tighter.

Lightning flared and her normally dim room went bright as day for a split second.

She could see nothing beyond him. She could
feel
nothing that wasn’t him.

He stretched her and filled her and surrounded her and cradled her.…

Her eyes started to sting when he slowed his thrusts and bent his head, running his lips over hers. “Hannah…” he murmured, his voice a low rumble in his throat. “My Hannah.”

She clung to him, and desperately wanted to believe that.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

It took little to ascertain that Hannah was still at her houseboat.

It took even less to ascertain that she and Brannon wouldn’t be going anywhere. Not for a while, at least.

After all, he only had to look up from the rain-drenched parking lot and use his eyes.

Out there, this late at night, nobody was likely to see them.

Except him. Now that he knew, he could go about his job and get things dealt with. That was, after all, what he did best. Unlike the rest of his family, unlike half the people in this pathetic town,
he
dealt with problems. Fate continued to conspire against him, but he wasn’t going to sit around and moan like some miserable old fool.

He was going to deal with it, as a man should.

He made the drive back to town in the rain. The downpour made for pathetic visibility but he welcomed it. It meant fewer people would wander out and that lessened the chance that anybody would see him.

He parked behind Hannah’s apartment building and used the key he’d had copied. It had been pathetically easy to do that. Just get the master, drive into Louisiana and make the copy. Return the master. Nobody was the wiser.

He let himself in and used the spare keyfob he’d stolen from the drawer on his first trip here. Truly, people were idiots. If they were going to have spare fobs for the security system lying around the house … well, they shouldn’t be surprised if they ended up being used against them.

He left a note on the table.

What did you see?

What did you hear?

That was all.

He just needed to know if she knew anything and if she did, he had to take care of her.

If she didn’t, well, then he had his hands full enough as it was.

Then he went to take care of the bedroom. He’d do a quick job there and deal with the rest of the place before he left. In and out in under ten minutes, he’d bet.

*   *   *

It took ten minutes and then he was out the door. When he left, he peeled off the gloves and slid them into his pocket before heading on to his next stop.