Winning Wyatt (The Billionaire Brotherhood Book 1) (9 page)

“Let
my appreciation be your pleasure, too.” Kara whispered the suggestion before
placing her mouth on the sensitive skin below his ear.

Strong
hands settled on her shoulders to hold her at bay, but Kara laced her fingers
behind his neck, and eased his head closer to hers. As she feathered random
kisses across his cheeks, chin, and mouth, she hoped the urgency of her desire
masked her ineptitude as a seductress.

With
a sigh of acceptance, his reluctance gave way. He tugged her against the length
of his body.

She
knew to the day, to the hour, to the minute, how long it had been since she had
kissed or been kissed with sexual intent. But even so, she was unprepared for
the searing pleasure that burned through her when their lips met. She gasped
and gave herself over to enjoyment for long drugging moments before resting her
forehead against his chest.

Taking
a steadying breath, Wyatt stepped back. “We should stop.”

“Not
yet.” As she stretched on tiptoe, she tugged his sweater over his head. Sliding
her hands down to his wrists, she unbuttoned his cuffs. She fingered his hair
into place before moving to undo his shirt.

Pressing
a kiss onto his well-contoured chest with each button she unfastened, she
created moist circles in the mat of hair. Her tongue and mouth traced a damp
trail from the center of his chest downward, halted only by the waistband of
his pants. His long fingers plowed through her hair and brought her head up to
a level with his own.

“Two
should play this game,” he said into her mouth while he unfastened her jacket.

“Not
yet,” Kara murmured in the second before his hands cupped her breasts.

He
molded her against his palms, and she covered his fingers with her own. Instead
of moving them away, as she probably should, she pressed them more firmly
against her and closed her eyes. As his hands massaged her, she reacted with
rusty intuition, touching her tongue to one of his dark nipples before moving
to graze the other with her teeth.

Overtaken
with impatience, Kara pulled his shirt free and tossed it aside. She traced her
hands across the corded muscles of his upper body, chest, and back then moved
to his belt, determined to remove another obstacle on her path to pleasure.

Again,
he stopped her with his hands on her shoulders.

“What
now?” Anxious to continue, she was afraid sanity would intrude and prevail with
any interruption.

“Would
you prefer to go inside?”

“No.”
She waved the suggestion away before returning to the removal of his belt.
“Please. Out here. This is where the magic is.”

With
a nod, he led her to a nearby chaise, pillowed with thick cushions and almost
wide enough for two people. Slowly, he removed Kara’s clothing piece by piece,
caressing and exploring each newly exposed area. Thankful that the falling
darkness shielded her far from perfect body from the perceptive eyes of this
absurdly perfect male, Kara was determined to rush onward before she died of
pleasure or her normal prudence returned.
         

He
lowered her onto the chaise and seated himself beside her, facing her, his hip
touching hers.

“What
would you like next? This?” He leaned over to lap his tongue over a susceptible
nipple.

“Oh
that, yes. And touch me, please.”

“Where?”

“Here...
there... everywhere.”

Surrounded
by darkness, he followed her instructions and explored her with his hands,
fingers, and mouth, concentrating on the textures of her body like a blind man
learning Braille. Kara groaned as her need escalated. She ached for more
intimate touches, but he continued at his own pace. Unable to remain idle any longer,
her hands began an exploration of the parts of his body within reach.

First,
she encountered knees. Hard, but not responsive.

Next,
she grazed his upper thigh. Sensitive and firm, but not hard enough.

Brushing
upward, her fingers found the heated erection that had every attribute she
sought... Hard, sensitive, and very responsive.

As
her hand encircled him, he found the throbbing pulse between her legs. Kara
drowned in the erotic sensations inspired by the rhythmic contact. Frantic,
mindless excitement pulled her tighter and tighter until the tension exploded
and her slick flesh convulsed around his fingertips.
   

She
floated in another dimension filled with fireworks, starlight and moonbeams,
refusing to acknowledge any reality beyond the exquisite release of the moment.
He continued to stroke and entice her in an attentive reminder of his needs—as
yet unmet.

“Now,”
she urged, pulling him over her.

“I
need to go inside the—”

“No.”
A groan escaped her as she held him in place.

“I’ll
be right back...” With great precision, he moved her hand to cover the juncture
at the top of her thighs. “Save my place.”

Waiting
for Wyatt’s return, Kara’s heightened perceptions turned the wait into an
interminable torture. A slice of moon appeared above her. As she stared at the
sky, diamond-like stars winked into sight, so close and distinct that she
wanted to gather them up and fashion them into a sparkly tiara.

Her
soon-to-be lover emerged from the house. With his naked form silhouetted in a
wedge of light streaming through a window, he looked like a god of nature put
on earth for the sole purpose of tempting mortal women from their chaste and
righteous paths. Both of which, Kara acknowledged thankfully, she had strayed
from long ago.

Depositing
various items on a table beside the chaise, he stretched out beside her. “Are
you sure about this?”

She
was sure of nothing except the desire to feel his heat next to her, around her,
and inside her. To feel alive again.

“We’ve
reached the point of no return. Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Kara
shook her head, disinclined to examine her feelings. She already doubted her
own ability to continue breathing. Coherent thought was well beyond her.

“Onward,
then.” He gathered her in his arms. “Where was I?”

He
took the hand he had positioned so intimately and moved it to his mouth,
kissing and licking each finger with exquisite attention. Each time his tongue
touched her skin, she felt a corresponding flutter deep inside. She pulled his
body over hers and pressed her hips against him. She could have wept from the
bliss of being touched by a man’s firm hands, covered by a hard body, and held
in strong arms.

When
he lifted himself away from her, she feared he intended to leave her again and
she clasped him to her. He reassured her with soothing murmurs as he reached
for a foil packet. Ripping it open, he shifted onto his side and placed the
disc in her hand.

Grateful
for the precaution, she made a production of touching and fondling him while she
stretched the protection over his hardened length.

He
pushed his way into the center of her private core, then paused, waiting a
moment for Kara to accustom herself to his touch. Before she was ready, he
began to move. Memories of other nights, of another man, came to tease at the
edges of her subconscious. At the edges of her heart.
  

This
man was too big. Too tall. Too close. Too… different.

The
heels of her palms pressed against his shoulders in a panicked effort to get
him off of her. He stopped and peered down, smoothing her hair back, allowing
her more time to adjust to his size and shape. Physically, he filled her. But
mentally, emotionally, she remained empty and yearned for the loving words and
familiar caresses she had known in the past.

The
sculpted angles and features of his face, strong and beautiful, kissed by
moonbeams and tense with desire, loomed above her. The part of him which
throbbed inside her created an involuntary demand from her body to end its
celibacy. While she fought to banish her longing for the partner who lived on
only in dreams and shadows, her hungry flesh spurred her toward a necessary
response.

“Don’t
worry. I’ve got you.” The real man of form and substance proceeded to withdraw
from her tight passage with excruciatingly slow movements and reenter with the
same taunting lack of speed. The exaggerated stroke radiated heat into all of
the cold and frozen nooks and crannies inside her and demanded her
participation.

“Come
now. Come with me,” he urged. Instinctively, her body matched his rhythm.
Reaching, striving, they ascended to an explosive climax together, sharing a
timeless moment that provided them with a tantalizing peek at forever.

Kara
closed her eyes and drifted. He had been splendid. Impersonal. Unknown. Almost
like a dream lover, but better. Real, very real. Perfect for reawakening desire
and passion. She reveled in the aftermath of long-denied emotions. Her eyes
burned with the sting of unexpected tears.

As
she lay beneath him, she turned her head away to hide her tears of joy. And
sorrow.

Awaking
to unfamiliar surroundings, Kara bolted upright. The nubby blanket that covered
her dropped away from her nakedness. She yanked it up to her shoulders before
looking around.

And
then she remembered where she was.

And
what she’d done.

She’d
left the museum with a man named Wyatt. And they’d made love. Had sex! Perfect,
amazing, fantastic sex! Oh, no!

Now,
he sat at a patio table set for two. Dressed in a polo shirt and worn blue
jeans, he ignored the laptop in front of him. Her nudity put her at a decided
disadvantage as he sipped a glass of wine and watched her. She offered a
tentative smile, uncertain of the protocol for her current situation.

From
the shadows, he spoke first. “I was about to wake you.”

“I
guess I dozed off.” Self-consciously, she finger-combed her hair away from her
face, wondering how quickly she could arrange her departure. She had no
transportation, very little cash, and no real idea of where she was.

“I
thought you might be getting hungry. Or cold.”

Her
nipples puckered under the blanket as his gaze settled on that area. Hoping for
nonchalance, she raised her knees and rested her elbows on them. “Yes, I am.”

“Which?”

She
swallowed nervously. It was one thing to seduce a stranger in the midst of a
cosmically surreal moment. But now reality replaced passion, and she was at
least thirty-six months out of practice at the art of post-coital repartee.

“Hungry.”
She bit her lip. “But I don’t want to impose.” She looked down at the floor of
the deck, searching for her clothes. “I’m hardly dressed for dinner.”

“No
imposition. I’d be pleased to have you join me. And dress is optional.” He rose
to standing position with a fluid grace. “Unless you insist.”

“I
do.”

In
the courtliest manner she’d seen this side of a regency novel, he helped her
rise from the chaise. Picking up a quilted silk robe from another chair, he
held it out for her to slip into. Kara tied the belt and rolled up the sleeves,
which dangled past her fingertips. Still nervous, she accepted the seat he held
for her at the table set for two.

He
poured her a glass of wine and handed it to her. “I’ll be back.”

Kara
clutched the front of the soft robe together and sipped the wine, hoping to
calm her racing nerves. She needed to pull herself together before he returned,
but that might take months. Too soon, he reappeared, placing a mouth-watering
meal on the table. Salmon, asparagus, wild rice, and salad.

“You
fixed all of this while I slept?” she asked.

Lighting
a set of lanterns, he shook his head. “Reheated it. My cooking skills don’t
extend much beyond breakfast cereal.”

Kara
pushed away her questions about the actual preparer of the food and accepted
each of the dishes he passed to her. She hadn’t felt so ravenous in years.
After having her soul reawakened to beauty and her body to passion, she
supposed perking up her appetite to food was a natural progression. With her
plate full, she dived into the meal.

Accustomed
to eating alone and in silence, she kept her thoughts to herself, but was
constantly aware of her mystery lover’s gaze upon her. The glow of the
flickering lights fought the darkness and created deep shadows on his sharply
defined features, turning his watchful eyes into dark, mysterious pools.
Whenever their gazes met over the flame, Kara looked away first. But it was
impossible to ignore the movements of his lips, his jaw, his hands, and his
eyes. His beauty continued to mesmerize her.

With
her plate empty, she looked up and caught him with his attention fixed on her
mouth. Her lips turned up in a slight smile, acknowledging that he might be
similarly affected by her.

He
pushed the remaining serving of salmon forward. “More?”
  

“No,
thank you.” She fanned her face. “I think I’ve had more than enough.”

Ducking
her head, she moved to stack their plates, more to ease the awkwardness of the
moment than from any compulsion for neatness.

He
waved his hand to stop her. “What happened between us was an encounter of
mutual consent, but that doesn’t mean I expect it to happen again.”

“But
that’s just it.” She twisted a cloth napkin in her lap. “I want it to happen
again. Before I intruded on your afternoon, I thought sex had disappeared from
my life forever. Now, I keep thinking about it. About you.”

His
aristocratic eyebrows lifted. “Is that a problem?”

“It’s
not like me to be so… eager.”

“Don’t
stop on my account.”

“But
I don’t even know you.” The words burst from her mouth like an accusation.

“Don’t
you? It feels like you do.” In the dim light, he searched her eyes. “I have the
home-court advantage here, but you’re allowed to make up the rules as we go.”

“When
we were eating, I was thinking how this entire experience seems like a time out
of time, like we're just a man and a woman. No names. No past. No future.”

“Like
that French movie from the sixties? Are you familiar with it?” As if trying to
remember the details, Wyatt looked up at the moon. He hummed a snatch of the
theme song.

“I
took a Foreign Film course in college and that was my favorite.” Kara nodded.
“There are plenty of people who know a thousand unimportant details about me,
but you already know things that no one else knows. Maybe that’s why this feels
so good, so right, because we’re both free to be who we really are or whoever
we want to be, with no expectations on either side. Can we have this a little
while longer?”

 
“Just our names, with no expectations?” he
repeated. “Is that what you really want?”

“Yes.”

Wyatt
seemed to consider, not quite ready to capitulate. “For how long?”

“For
as long as we both wish. Or until real life intrudes.”

“Whichever
comes first? Let’s do it.” He put out his hand to shake on it. “Until then
we’re just a man and a woman. Alone together, like Anouk Aimee and Jean-Claude
Trintagnent without the haunting soundtrack. Doing as we please. Nothing more.
Nothing less.”

“Thank
you.” She stopped fooling with the napkin, took his hand in hers and squeezed.

“Don’t
thank me.” Standing abruptly, he pulled her to her feet. “You don’t know what
my motives are for agreeing.”

“That’s
the beauty of it.” She shrugged impishly. “I don’t want to know.”

“Have
it your way, Anouk.” His use of the French woman’s name sent the corners of her
mouth upward.

Jean-Claude
took the dishes inside and turned on some music. Reclining in the chaise
lounge, she was a moon goddess staring into the night sky.

“When
I have a terrible need for religion, I go out at night and paint the stars,” he
quoted, watching her from the door.

“Who
said that?”

“Just
now, I did.” He scooted her over and squeezed into place on the chaise. “But
Van Gogh said it originally, around the time he painted Starry Night.” He
slipped an arm around her shoulders and settled her comfortably against his
chest. “I know you’re interested in art, but are you interested in astronomy,
Anouk?”

“I
can't even see the sky from where I live.” She glanced at him sideways. “Are
you one of those people who knows the name of everything up there?”

“I
know some of their names.” He pulled her close. “The big yellow thing we saw
earlier was the sun. The silver crescent you’re looking at now is the moon.
Those bright twinkly things are—” He paused dramatically. “—stars.”

“Very
impressive.” She gave in to the impulse to smile, realizing how seldom she did
so. “Thank you, Professor Trintignant, but you can jump ahead to the
constellations if you want. I’ll try to keep up.”

“Okay,
we’ll start with something simple. The Big Dipper is the seven bright stars
approximately seventy-five light years away and slightly to the left of the
roof.” He pointed his finger in the correct general direction. “It’s part of a
larger constellation, Ursa Major, also known as the Big Bear. See it?”

“Maybe,”
she answered doubtfully.

He
moved her chin with his hand. “Adjusting your sights a little bit in the
opposite direction, the next bright star is Regulus, part of the surrounding
constellation Leo the Lion.”

“Do
you know the origins of the names, too?”

“I
know some of the Indian legends. There’s an Anishinaabe Indian one about the
bear.”

“Tell
me.” She settled her head against his shoulder like a child waiting for a
bedtime story.

“Once,
a long time ago, winter was the only season on earth.” Kara’s mystery man
pulled her body more closely against his. As she rested within the circle of
his arm, his Southern drawl poured over her like warm honey.

Under
the canopy of stars, she listened as he told the tale of Fisher and his
friends, Otter and Wolverine, who climbed to the top of a high mountain
together. With the help of the High Spirit, the trio broke a hole through the
barrier of the sky so that the beautiful weather above it could seep through,
warming the cold and barren earth below.

But
just when the hole was large enough to let fair weather warm the earth for half
the year, the inhabitants of Skyland came along and tried to run them off.

Fisher
taunted the Sky People, drawing their attention away from the hole. When the
people struck him with an arrow, Fisher rolled over on his back and began to
fall. Because he had been very brave, the High Spirit caught Fisher and placed
him high in the sky among the stars.

“Now,”
Mystery Man explained, “every year, Fisher moves across the heavens until the
arrow strikes him, and then he rolls over onto his back and falls. When winter
has held the Great Forest too long in its powerful grip, he turns to his feet
and brings spring and warm weather back to earth.”

Kara
cuddled against the man’s warm body, awed by the vastness of the universe
above, at ease in the comfort she had found in this unexpected place, with this
unlikely person. She should ask him to take her back to town, but she felt too
comfortable, too lethargic to rouse herself. “Do you think everything up there
is part of some grand design, or is it all just one big cosmic accident?”

He
slipped his hand inside the robe and weighed her breast in his palm, as he
seemed to weigh his answer. “I tend to believe a Big Bang created the universe,
and we’re all the masters of our own fate.”

She
heard the cautious tone lacing his words. “I’m not suggesting that our being
here together has been decreed by the gods.” Nipping his neck, she wiggled her
chest against his. “It’s just that you were so exactly what I needed at this
precise moment in my life that it would be nice to think our paths crossed for
a reason.”

“Some
ships do bump into each other rather than pass unnoticed in the night.” He
kissed his way down her throat, easing the robe apart. “But that’s all the
coincidence that I’ll allow.”

“You
call what we did earlier bumping into each other?” Kara tilted her head,
granting his mouth better access. “I shudder to think what you’d consider a
head-on collision.”

“Then
hold onto your hat, darlin’.” His hand moved from her breast to the hollow of
her stomach. “You’re about to find out.”

He
tasted, touched and caressed all of the most sensitive spots he’d discovered
earlier, and she returned touch for touch, taste for taste. His hands and lips
sought her breasts. From there, his mouth moved lower to accomplish a
shattering explosion that should have slaked her need, but only pushed her
further from satisfaction.

Kara
writhed under him and over him, physically demanding that their bodies be
united. His golden eyes gleamed hotly when he at last thrust inside her.

“Now,”
he commanded, repeating his earlier words of invitation, “come with me.”

The
resulting orgasm was long and hard and their voices echoed through the night
and into the faraway heavens.

And
quiet tears coursed down Kara's cheeks.

When
her breathing and pulse steadied, she turned and looked at him. His face had
that watchful expression again, as if he believed he could divine all her
secrets just by staring at her. And maybe he could.

He
toyed with a lock of her hair, rubbing it between his fingers. “I’ll take you
into town whenever you say,” he said, and her heart plummeted. “Or you can stay
here for the night.”

The
firm hold he had on her belied his offer to let her go, but his expression
remained impassive. She didn’t want to return to her isolation yet. Not when
she’d just been set free. But she owed him so much, she wouldn’t overstay her
welcome.

“I'd
like to stay,” she said, ready to amend her answer if he seemed displeased.

“Good.”He
favored her with an approving smile that was so beautiful she wouldn’t have
been surprised to hear angels singing.