Wife For Hire (Wife, Inc. #2)

Hayley moaned, the erotic burn of his touch, of being in the car, in public, made her smile and accept. She cried out when he thrust his fingers inside her with deep intentional strokes. He watched her writhe, adoring her soft pants, her undulating hips, and when he pulled into his driveway, he gunned it to the house, slammed on the brakes and finished what he started.

He let the seat back, pulling her on top of him, her back to his chest as he rubbed and played, his left hand on her breast, and wished she was naked and he was inside her. Her breath hitched, her body tensed, and the sound she made, sexy and familiar, made him harder, made him want to take her now. But he drew her to heaven and refused to stop even as she sank to earth. He opened the door, leaving the car and taking her with him out his side. Then he had her against the cool metal of the car and was leaning against her before she could take a breath. His hunger surged out of proportion; she could feel every inch of it in the fire of his kiss. He pulled her away from the car, his mouth on hers as he back stepped. They parted long enough to make the front steps, yet stopped on the landing to give in to the passion with a thick liquid kiss. In each other's arms, Nash groped for the door.

Shoving it open, he staggered inside and pressed her against the nearest wall.

His mouth was on hers again, hot and fierce.

His fingers wrapped behind one of her knees, lifting her leg and wedging her to his hardness. "Hayley … baby … I want you."

"Do tell," she panted, nibbling his jawline before taking his kiss again.

He chuckled. "What gave me away?"

"This." She thrust her hips forward, his arousal mashing against her.

In the foyer, any hesitation fled like refracting light as her heel touched the wood floor. His jacket fell, then shirt studs scattered like tacks as she advanced on him, stripping him. Fine white linen fluttered to the floor. Her sheer overdress joined it, then her hand was inside his trousers, enfolding him, stroking him, and he moaned, throwing his head back and letting her play.

He couldn't take it, his body throbbing, and when he caught their reflection in the mirror suspended above the credenza, he turned her toward it, pressing his lips to the nape of her neck, telling her how good she smelled, that he could almost taste her heat. Her skin glistened softly and he licked it as he unzipped her dress, then unfastened her bra. Impatiently he slipped his hands inside to envelop her breasts.

A moan of satisfaction escaped into the stillness. She pushed back into him.

"Oh, Nash. I've missed you." Hayley covered his hands, then let the sage-green dress and bra fall to her ankles. He devoured the curve of her spine, the bend of her hip. She stood before him in a satin thong panty and high heels. Nash thought he'd die just looking at her, and he hooked his thumbs in the thin panty straps and peeled them down.

She shuddered and gripped the polished ledge, her body yearning for the heat of him. He disappeared from view in the mirror, but she could feel him kissing her buttocks, stroking the inside of her thighs. His mouth was everywhere, and stepping out of the garment barely registered.

He stood, running his hands up her sides, and she twisted to face him.

She was on him, pushing his trousers down, and he sank to his knees, taking her with him. She straddled him, wet heat sliding over his hardness, pulsing to be filled, and he groaned, a dark lusty sound of pure male pleasure. He gripped her hips. She circled him, in control now, brushing his arousal across her damp treasure.

Nash shuddered, gazing into her eyes. "Honey, we need protection."

"I have it covered," she said as she rose up slightly.

Her gaze locked with his. He entered her, and a quick staggered breath passed her parted lips.

Tears wet her eyes, and she held his face in her hands and sank down onto him. Nash closed his eyes and felt her feminine flesh grip him in a tight fist of pleasure.

"Hayley."

"Mercy, did you grow?" she gasped.

He smiled, his gaze a prisoner of hers. Gripping his shoulders, she surged closer, taking him fully into herself. She could not be contained. Not that he would try. She was glorious, uninhibited, and Nash felt the blood barrel through his veins as she cried out, laughing. Then he pushed her onto her back and braced himself above her.

He withdrew and plunged, over and over, each thrust driving her across the floor. She accepted it, willed him to unleash himself on her, her hips rising to greet his. He quickened and her fingertips dug into his chest. She pulsed and flexed, arching, calling his name as he slammed into her.

His primal groan vibrated through the house. His body quaked with bone-racking tremors. Heat spilled and they stared, suspended, as raw pleasure peaked through them. Her lips parted, a shuddering breath tumbled free, and he drank in the taste, grinding into her till the last of her passion perished.