Wild with You (7 page)

His body reacted to the image as he drew her back into his arms. The accomplished doctor wouldn't attend a wedding without her panties. Either way, he shouldn't be thinking about her underwear.

The music ended and he released her. “I'm going to grab another beer. Want anything?”

“No thanks.” She shook her head. “I need a moment to freshen up. And find that storage room.”

She winked at him, turned and walked off the dance floor. His eyes followed every movement of her flowing skirt. Right or wrong, he couldn't help wanting her.

The next song started and he headed for the keg.

“Are you sure you picked up the right doctor?” his brother said.

Brody glanced up from the self-­ser­vice barrel of local brew. “She's filling in for Dr. Westbury.”

“You didn't just offer a ride to the first sexy blonde you saw and hope she had a few letters after her name like MD and Ph.D.?” Chad said.

“Shouldn't you be focused on your own blonde?” Brody waved his hand, gesturing to where Lena was dancing with her dog on the edge of the dance floor.

“I'm serious, Brody. I know Josh likes her, but she's planning on teaching him how to bake. I didn't go to medical school, but how is mixing sugar and butter going to help?”

“She's the right doctor,” he said, hoping that would end the discussion. “And you're the one who shoved the information about this clinical trial under my nose last month. Whatever they are doing, it's working. Three former NFL players have sought Dr. Westbury out after suffering multiple concussions.”

“True,” Chad admitted. “Then mind telling me why the hell you brought her here?”

Brody turned to face his brother, his back to the party. “I couldn't leave her alone in the hotel for the night. You probably don't remember her, but before Kat moved to New York and became a top doctor, she was a foster kid who bounced around from home to home.”

“Kat, huh? So you brought her as your date to, what, fix the past?” Chad said, raising his drink to his lips.

“It's not a date.”

“I saw you out there, dancing with her. If you plan on holding all of Josh's caregivers close during a country love song, you're going to have to fight the kid for Megan. Maybe he can't remember what they did together last night, but he sure as shit liked what he read in his notebook this morning.”

“Guys, I have nothing against your brother's intimate relationship with his caregiver.” Kat's voice cut in, the low throaty quality reminding him that dancing with her had nothing to do with rescuing Kat from a lonely night in the hotel room. Kat had looked at Craig, who by all accounts was a decent guy, and a great crew chief, and Brody had wanted to claim possession of her. “But you,” she continued, poking the center of Brody's chest with her index finger, “should probably stay away.”

Chad chuckled. “You know, Doctor, I think you might be good for him.”

“I've treated enough patients with traumatic brain injuries to know that depression can play a serious role in their recovery,” she said.

“Not Josh.” His brother shook his head. “You're good for Brody.”

Chad winked at them before walking away to join his girl and her dancing golden retriever. When his brother was out of earshot, Brody turned to face Kat. Fire and determination shone in her green eyes and he knew she'd overheard too much.

“Kat—­”

“Come with me.” She took his free hand, leading him past the bar and into the hallway connecting the reception to the rest of the winery.

“Where are we going?” he demanded as she made a sharp right turn, leading him down a narrow staircase into the winery's underbelly.

“Sweet of you to worry about my past. To take pity on me and bring me as your date. And once you got me here, to think of my happiness and make sure I have a good time.” A spark of fury echoed in her low voice, bouncing off the stairwell walls. “But you saw to my happiness last night. Twice. Now it's my turn to see to yours.”

 

Chapter 9

K
AT
S
PUN
ON
her heels and faced the six-­foot-­plus towering wall of muscle hidden beneath a suit. Surrounded by wine barrels in the dimly lit storage room, she reached for his tie, drawing him close.

His hands went to her hips, but he didn't push her away. “Kat, I shouldn't have told my brother about your past. I couldn't stand the thought of you alone in that hotel room. What kind of ass would hear your story and not feel for the child who grew up like you did? But this isn't a pity date. That's not what I see when I look at you now.”

“What do you see?” she demanded, focusing on the knot in his tie. She needed to hear him say the words, to admit that he wanted her here.

“A beautiful, smart woman who dressed to drive me crazy.” His hands ran up and down her hips, bunching the see-­through top layer. “While we were dancing I couldn't stop thinking about your skirt.” He lowered his mouth to her neck, brushing his lips over her skin. “And what's beneath it.”

“What if I told you I'm not wearing any underwear?”

Brody growled against her neck, his grip tightening on her hips. “Show me.”

“I can't.” She broke free from his hold, taking his undone tie with her. Standing just out of arm's reach, her gaze locked with his. “Because when I look at you, I see a man who is holding onto his control by a thread. A man who remembers exactly where we left off last night. Tonight's my turn to take care of you.”

“Kat, if you think last night was about seeing to your happiness, you don't know a damn thing about what makes me happy. Feeling your hips bucking wild and out of control against my face, seeing you tied up, waiting for me to take you there—­” He took a step forward, the dark, out-­of-­control gleam in his eyes suggesting he might pounce.

He reached for her and she danced out of his grasp. “Do you want to hear my fantasy?” she said. “I want to push you past reasonable, to drive you out of control.”

He let out a rough laugh. “You've done that.”

“I'm not finished.” Tossing his tie aside, she put her hands on his chest and backed him up against a barrel. “I've dreamed about what you would feel like.”

She left out the “for years” part. Her fingers went to work on his buttons, quickly stripping off his shirt, unveiling the hard contours she'd wanted to explore last night by the pool. So different from the boy she'd know in high school. But she preferred the man.

“I've dreamed about kissing you, claiming you with my mouth.”

“Kat—­”

“Every inch.” She touched her lips to his chest, brushing soft kisses over the body that surpassed her fantasies. In New York she'd dated men who spent hours in the gym fine-­tuning their pecs and sculpting their six-­packs. They looked like wimps next to Brody Summers.

“Do you work out?” she murmured before flicking her tongue over his nipple.

“No,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “I work.”

“Saving others looks good on you.” She ran her hands over his taunt abdomen. Releasing his belt, she moved on to his pants. Her fingers teased the elastic band on his underwear, slipping beneath. The pad of her thumb brushed his cock. “But I don't need to be rescued.”

His hand captured her wrist. “Kat—­”

“Admit it, you want me.” She pulled free from his hold. Drawing his suit pants and boxers down over his hips, she sank to the ground. Tilting her head back as her hand wrapped around him, stroking from the base to the tip and down, she stared up into his dark brown eyes. She searched for a sign of sympathy. And came up empty. Thank goodness.

She turned her attention to his long, thick length. “If I'd known what you were hiding behind your boxers last night, I would have insisted on having a turn.” Her tongue swirled around the head of his cock. “I'm taking one now.”

“Jesus.” His voice was a low growl seemingly at odds with his Mr. Do-­the-­Right-­Thing reputation. “Yes, I want you.”

Lips hovering close, she glanced up at him again. His fingers gripped the upright barrel at his back. His hips thrust toward her hand, demanding more from each stroke. The look in his eyes bordered on feral.

“Tell me what you see when you look at me now,” she demanded. The thought that this man, who appeared as if he wanted to devour her, might let sympathy seep back in . . . She wanted to banish the word pity from his vocabulary forever.

“Right now I can't see past your lips.” The urgent need in his tone confirmed his words. “Your mouth.”

“Good answer,” she murmured, wrapping her lips around him. Her tongue stroked him as her mouth ran up and down. His hips bucked forward, setting a frantic rhythm. He wasn't holding back. Not anymore.

“Unbutton your blouse,” he said. “Let me see more.”

Maintaining a hold on his cock with one hand, her fingers rising up to meet her mouth with each thrust of his hips, she obeyed. He let out a low growl when she reached the last button and ran her hand up over her skin, drawing the shirt away from her breasts. Her fingers danced over the lacy edge where the fabric of her bra met skin.

“When I look at you, I remember how you taste.” His voice was a low, steady growl. The sound teased her body, his words taking the place of his hands. “The moment you walked out of the hotel, I wanted to strip off the layers of your skirt. You want to hear me say the words? I want you. From the minute you left my room last night, I've wanted you.”

His hips moved faster, demanding more. She drew the cups of her bra down beneath her breasts. His growl of appreciation offered an A for effort.

“I never lose control, but I look at you and—­”

She rewarded his wild abandon by pinching her nipple, drawing it out, letting him watch as she drove her own desire.

“Ah hell, Kat. The things I want from you . . .” A low groan replaced words.

“Hold tight to those thoughts,” she ordered, her hand working up and down his length. “Close your eyes and let them play out. Every time you look at me, I want you to remember those wild scenes. And then I want you to show me.”

B
RODY
OBEYED
,
C
LOSING
his eyes as she reclaimed his cock. The feel of her lips sucking hard, drawing him in, her tongue pushing him closer—­he didn't need to imagine Kat stripped naked and lying on his bed to make him explode. But that didn't stop the fantasy reel.

In his bed—­ah hell, he wanted her there, naked and waiting for him. He imagined sinking into her, taking her in a way that had nothing to do with careful restraint.

His hips bucked against her mouth. He fought the urge to run his fingers through her long hair and hold her head.

“I want you, Kat.” He opened his eyes and looked down at her. If she needed to hear those words, needed him at admit that desire and lust overrode his brain when it came to her, he'd give her those words over and over. “I want you.”

Her breasts bounced as her mouth lifted up and down. Perched over the cups of her bra, her nipples begged for attention. And he couldn't resist. Releasing one hand from the barrel, he reached out and brushed her nipple. He felt the vibration of her moan against his cock.

“Fuck.” He bit off the word, the sound of her desire pushing him over the edge. He tried to pull away from her mouth as the climax took hold. But she held tight, refusing to release him. She took everything he had and still left him wanting more—­wanting her. When she finally drew back, offering him a wicked grin, he wondered if wanting was the right word. Right now, staring at her lips swollen from sucking him off, need took a firm hold of him. It had nothing to do with her past or the reasons why she'd returned to Independence Falls.

Stepping out of his dress shoes, he shed the rest of his clothes. She tracked his movements. Rocking back on her heels, he thought for a moment she might stand, make her excuses and leave him with an unfulfilled need for more. But they'd come this far. He wasn't going to let her walk away before he heard her call out his name as she came.

“My turn,” he said, extending his hand, drawing her up from the floor.

“We'll miss the buffet,” she teased.

Wrapping his hands around her waist beneath her open shirt, he guided her until the back of her calves touched a barrel lying on its side. Gently, he lowered her down, positioning her bottom at the curved edge.

“I'll feed you later,” he said, dropping to his knees between her spread legs. He tossed the see-­through fabric up to her waist. His hands moved to her thighs, drawing the pencil skirt up. And his fingers toyed with the edge of her panties.

“You lied,” he murmured, staring at the proof.

“I said ‘what if.' I don't crash weddings without underwear,” she murmured, the near-­breathless sound of her voice betraying her desire. “And don't even think about walking away with those.”

“Hmm, I like the idea of you spending the rest of the night without your underwear.” He drew the wet slip of lace aside and lowered his mouth, licking until she let out a soft moan.

“I want you, Brody. Inside me,” she said. “I don't care if the barrel breaks. Take me in a pool of wine.
Please.
”

Brody drew back, his gaze traveling to where her hands moved over her breasts. She might have said please, but she wasn't begging. Kat was issuing an order. And he wanted to comply, but—­

“I don't have a condom.” He slipped a finger inside and felt her tense around him. Her hips lifted off the barrel, demanding more. He added a second and she arched, her bottom pressing into the barrel's metal-­rimed edge.

“Ouch,” she muttered, quickly lifting up.

“We're not breaking out the wine tonight,” he said, slipping his fingers out. Rising up on his knees, he wrapped his hands around her waist and took her with him as he moved to the floor. Letting go, he laid down on his back. “Hold your skirt up and kneel over my face.”

She followed his instructions, allowing him to draw her panties aside with one hand as he ran his tongue over her. His free hand squeezed her ass, his fingers following the line of her thong. Kat moaned, her hips moving over his mouth, demanding more. He felt her control slip away, her movements driven by a desire to get there, to reach the peak of pleasure.

She cried out and her body fell forward, her hands pressing into the cellar floor above his head. Her skirt buried his face as she came and he didn't give a damn.

Her thighs trembled as the orgasm swept over her and then receded. Brody reached for her waist, drawing her away from his mouth. Sliding down his torso, she collapsed on his chest, her breathing erratic.

Overhead, he heard the DJ calling the guests up to their seats for the best man's speech. The shuffle of shoes on hardwood drowned out the rest of the announcement.

Sitting up, the fact that he was naked on the cellar floor at his friend's wedding sank in. He glanced at the woman who'd delivered him to this place—­this moment—­his mind so overrun with wanting her he didn't care where they were.

Kat smoothened her hands over her skirt. “I'll go up first.”

“They're going to figure it out.” He reached for his clothes. “I'm sorry—­”

“For letting me drag you away from the reception?” She shook her head. “That wasn't your fault. If you want to apologize for something, tell me you're sorry you didn't bring a condom.”

He let out a laugh as he secured his pants. “I am.”

“I forgive you. But next time be more prepared.”

She turned and headed for the stairs.

Next time? There wouldn't be a “next time.” Hell, he shouldn't have followed her down here, knowing the need to have her would override everything else. The more he learned about Dr. Katherine Arnold, from the childhood that had left her feeling unwanted to the fact that she hated pity, he knew she deserved someone who would go all in for her. But he wasn't in a position to be that man beyond the bedroom walls.

You haven't taken her to bed yet. You just buried your face between her legs on the floor of a wine cellar.

“Kat,” he called.

She paused, glancing back at him. Her right hand maintained a firm grip on the banister as she raised an eyebrow.

“As much as I want to take you out and then back to my bed,” he said, “there won't be a next time.”

“Careful Brody.” Her lips formed a wicked smile. “I've never met a challenge I couldn't conquer.”