Wicked Pleasure (Bound Hearts #9)

Dreams were just that, she finally told herself, as she put the last touches to her makeup and hair before finishing the last cup of coffee from the pot she had ordered from room service along with her breakfast.

At nine o’clock on the dot a knock sounded on the door to her hotel suite.

She breathed in quickly, ran her fingers through her loose hair, pushed it back from her face, then strode to the door and checked to be certain it was Cam before opening it.

She had dressed in a slim black skirt that ended just above her knees. The black tailored suit conformed to her figure and gave her a strictly business look that was slightly softened by a silky knit dove gray pullover she wore with it.

The pumps gave her an added height, putting her head at his throat rather than his chest. But he still towered over her, still surrounded her.

“I just need to get my purse and case.” She turned to do just that, when she found herself swung around, pressed against the wall, as he kicked the door closed and his lips covered hers.

Oh, man. This was the way a girl needed to wake up in the morning. It had coffee beat all to hell.

His lips parted hers swiftly, his tongue licking over them before touching her tongue and jerking her into the maelstrom of sensation she had sworn she would avoid.

Her arms were around his neck, her fingers spearing into his thick black hair to hold him closer to her, to retain the heat of his kiss and the luscious, wild hunger of it, for just another second. Just another second, then she would force herself to pull back from him.

“Damn.” He pulled back, staring down at her, his gaze hooded, as she forced her eyes open. “That’s better than coffee, first thing in the morning.”

He mirrored her own thoughts.

His hands moved from the hold he had on her head, smoothed down her back to her hips, as a slow, lazy grin pulled at his lips.

That knowing smile snapped strength back into her spine. She stiffened and pulled quickly away from him.

“That was completely unfair,” she informed him as she jerked her purse and leather case from the table just inside the room.

“What was unfair about it?” Laughter lingered in his voice. “I thought it was pretty damned hot myself.”

“Guerilla warfare,” she muttered. “That’s what it is.”

He snorted at that as she turned around. “Sweetheart, guerilla warfare is getting you in the bed, stripped and fucked blind again before you know what’s hit you. I’m giving you fair warning.”

Was that what he called it? Fair warning? In her opinion, he should rethink that description. It was guerilla warfare. The only difference was, she recognized the subtle war being played out between them.

“I’m giving you fair warning, you’re picking on the wrong girl,” she informed him as she stepped out into the hall.

“Hmm.” He hummed his disagreement, rather than arguing with her, as they moved to the elevators.

Once inside, after the doors closed, the hand laying low on her waist moved lower.

Jaci’s eyes widened.

“Stop that,” she hissed at him, then hissed it to herself mentally as she felt her rear clench in pleasure.

She was aware of the cameras in the elevator. The all-seeing eye behind the lens couldn’t detect that his fingers had moved to the crevice between her thighs, where they played with destructive strokes.

She was getting incredibly wet. Wetter than she had been when he released her from the wall moments ago.

“Do you think they can see that flush of arousal on your face?” He bent close, his lips at her ear, as she stood stiffly beside him. “And your nipples are hard, Jaci. I wonder if the security personnel watching this are getting as turned on as I am.”

She was saved from having to form a reply by the light ping of warning that the elevator was drawing to a stop. A second later, Cam’s hand was once more at her lower back.

He escorted her from the elevator, and Jaci fought to restrain her breathing, to keep from panting. He’d always had the ability to do that to her, to make her breathing too hard, her imagination too intense. Especially after last night’s dreams and the night before in his and Chase’s arms.

“You haven’t had any questions about the club,” he stated as they were driving from the hotel long minutes later, heading back to the Sinclair mansion. “Most women would be full of questions.”

“It’s a men’s club, and it’s full of perverts. What more is there to know?” she asked mockingly, knowing how judgmental she sounded and at this point not really caring.

She was too damned curious about the club though, and she didn’t want to be. She had learned a long time ago that her curiosity could be dangerous. It had been her curiosity that had gotten her into the trouble at the Robertses’ mansion. She wasn’t going to make that mistake anywhere else.

Cam chuckled at her response. “How do you define a pervert, Jaci? Anyone who doesn’t do it straight missionary, or are there other allowances?”

“Acceptable sex is allowable,” she said carefully, staring straight ahead as Cam drove.

“Acceptable sex? What the hell is acceptable sex?” He shifted gears, and his body tensed and moved as he worked the clutch and the gear shift, and maneuvered the Jaguar through the heavy city traffic.

“Stop lusting after me while I drive,” he drawled. “Answer me, Jaci, what’s acceptable sex?”

“I am not lusting after you while you drive. And you’re a man. Men know what acceptable sex is.”

“But you just called me a pervert,” he pointed out, his voice vibrating with laughter. “How would I know what acceptable sex is?”

“Have you ever had sex without Chase?” She turned to look at him, brushing her hair from her face, as he shifted gears again and accelerated through the thinning traffic.

“Often.” The grin that tugged at his lips infuriated her.

“Do you have sex with Chase?” She snapped out. She was sick of the questions raging inside her, the need to know, just to understand.

He glared at her, offended male sensibilities filling his expression.

“Damn, Jaci, are you trying to make me lose my breakfast here?”

“It’s a reasonable question, Cam,” she pointed out heatedly. “Give me one reason, just one reason why you would have even considered wanting another man to have sex with your lover, in any way, let alone while you’re there? How can you justify that to yourself, let alone to your lovers? How can you justify that to any woman who would care for you?”

Silence filled the vehicle. There was only the powerful hum of the motor, the sound of the gears shifting.

“Does there have to be a reason why?” he finally asked, his voice dark, dangerous. “Don’t deny you enjoyed it. You were screaming for more, Jaci.”

“That’s not the point. There’s always a reason why.” With Cam and Chase, there was no other option. Everything they did had a reason. They were controlled, determined, exacting. They wouldn’t do something so dark as sharing their lovers without a reason.

“And how do you figure there has to be a reason why?”

“Because, from the time I was sixteen until I turned twenty-one, you and Chase made certain I was protected. One way or the other. You pulled me out of parties, the bad-asses in town stayed well away from me, and no matter what I did, I was aware one of you had been there before me. You were possessive, Cam. If you didn’t care who touched me, then you wouldn’t have been.”

“I’m still possessive of you.” He surprised her with the statement. “I’d want to kill any man I didn’t choose to touch you.”

Her lips parted in shock. Jaci could do nothing but stare at him in disbelief as they made the turn into Squire Point.

“You did not say what I just thought you said.”

He was silent for long moments, his jaw clenched tight, his nostrils flaring.

“I said it.” The gears shifted smooth and easy, but she could feel the restraint in each move he made. It pulsed in the interior of the vehicle, surrounded them like a smothering blanket.

Jaci inhaled slowly, deeply. A fine thread of tension began to tighten through her body, race through her veins. Turning, she stared through the windshield once again, her hands clutching the purse in her lap tightly.

“You’re not serious,” she finally whispered, as they drew to a stop in the front of the Sinclair mansion.

“Look at me, Jaci.”

She shook her head.

“Look at me, dammit.” His voice throbbed with command.

She turned her head slowly, seeing his eyes, darker, brighter than before.

“When you were twenty-one, I wanted you until it was a fire in my gut. Waiting until you were old enough to understand what I wanted from you was hell. Seven years has only made that burn worse, and one night sharing it hasn’t eased the fire. You know what I want from you. You know what I need, Jaci. It’s your choice. But if you don’t want it, then stay the hell away from me. Stay far, far away from me. And make damned sure you stay away from Chase.”

Her heart jumped to her throat.

“It’s an either/or?” She felt strangled by the knowledge.

“I can’t change who I am.” His hand jerked out, cupped her neck, held her still. “And I can’t let you go now. Not on my own.”

“I won’t change who I am.”

“Then stay clear of me. Walk away when you see me coming. Turn and run if Chase comes your way. Listen to me.” His voice turned hard, brutal, as her lips parted and anger fired inside her. “I can seduce you. You know I can. I know I can. If you don’t want the man I’ve become, then stay the hell fucking clear of me.”

“Have the control not to come near me, then,” she snapped out, trying to jerk from his grip.

“Didn’t we figure out a long time ago that control doesn’t exist?” He pulled her to him, his lips almost touching hers, almost tasting her. “We both know there’s not a chance in hell of that.”

8

Stay the hell away from him. Run if she saw him. Run if she saw Chase. She was supposed to take responsibility for all this? When the hell had that happened? Somewhere, somehow, Cam had come under the illusion that she was a wimp, and she wasn’t enjoying the consequences.

It was all the running she had done for the past seven years, she told herself. That little investigation he had done on her had evidently led him to believe she ran from her problems rather than deal with them. And hadn’t Chase accused her of it as well? She was tired of it.

Jaci stalked into the Sinclair mansion, casting Cam a glare as he sat in the car watching her, his gaze stroking her even across the distance.

“I hate men,” she muttered, before turning and coming face-to-face with a grinning Chase.

Charm oozed from him. Wicked, wild, amusement gleamed in his gaze and in his too handsome face, as he leaned against a door frame, watching her.

“Excuse me while I walk instead of run,” she stated with completely false sweetness, her hand clutched around the handle of her briefcase in a death grip.

That was what she got for trying to figure out men, or these particular men. Warnings and dark rumblings, and a complete inability to give her a single straight answer.

Chase’s brow lifted, though he didn’t lose his smile. If she remembered Chase correctly, it took a lot to make him lose his smile.

“When have I ever wanted to see you run, pretty thing?” He straightened from the frame and dropped his arms from his chest, watching her with that ever-present amusement. “You look pretty as hell when you’re pissed off at Cam, but I’d rather see a smile on your face.”

“Bite me,” she muttered.

White teeth flashed in a wolf’s smile. “I thought I did that the other night.”