Her arms lifted, her hands propping on her hips as she lifted her chin defiantly. “Are you threatening me, Brogan Campbell?”
“No, Eve, I’m not threatening you.” He was closer, his head lowering, his gaze holding hers as the blue-gray appeared more a steel gray now than the light blue it sometimes seemed. “I’m telling you: My dick is harder than titanium, my control is all but shot, and I’m so damned hungry for you I’m about to lose my fucking mind. So please, for both our sakes, don’t refer to that man as your date again.”
Her lips thinned.
She could feel her nostrils flaring as she drew in air, fighting to control the racing, adrenaline-laced blood surging and thundering through her. That small movement was her first warning that her own control was thin. That her ability to access her common sense was endangered.
“Now, I’m going to take our clothes to the bedroom,” he stated as he stepped back from her. “If you want something to drink, there’s a bar in the living area and one in the kitchen. The fridge should have drinks, as well as the walk-in pantry. I’ll be right back.”
She nodded silently, her gaze still narrowed on him, her fingers so tight on the purse she expected her nails to pierce the soft leather.
Her cell phone was in her purse; she should call her mother—no, she should call Dawg. She should show Brogan he didn’t have the option of ordering her around.
There was a part of her—the independent fighter who used to worry her mother to distraction—that assured her she didn’t need Dawg’s help. If he showed up he’d drag her from the house and probably camp on her doorstep to ensure Brogan didn’t come around her again.
She could handle this.
Besides, if Dawg dragged her off, then there was no way she would end up in Brogan’s bed. And Brogan’s bed was exactly where she wanted to be.
Well, that was where she wanted to be once she and Brogan set a few ground rules, that was.
Nothing strenuous for him, just a few concerning free will, her own choices, and dates.
TEN
Brogan stared around the bedroom, making a mental note to himself to thank Timothy for everything he’d managed to arrange in a few short hours.
If the DHS agent survived his little chat with Dawg, that was.
The bedroom was exactly as he had requested.
The huge custom-made, larger than a king-and-a-half bed was surrounded by ivory netting that hung from the ceiling and draped around the thick, ultracomfortable mattress situated on the platform beneath it.
Candles by the dozen, from thick pillars to slender tapers and everything in between, were positioned around the large room. The property’s caretaker had slipped in and lit them just before Brogan and Eve arrived.
The hot tub just outside the glass patio doors steamed invitingly, while candles were positioned around the deck that surrounded it, flickering with warmth.
Opening Eve’s overnight bag he’d had Piper pack for him, he grinned as he pulled free the white lace-and-chiffon gown he knew would fall to Eve’s pretty toes, and the matching robe. She did love her chiffon.
Beneath that were jeans, camis, socks, and sneakers. He’d told Piper to pack for her sister enough clothes to last the weekend. Piper had been more than happy to do so. It was high time Brogan decided to finally do something about all the sexual tension burning between him and Eve, Piper had laughed.
He stared around the room again.
Hell, he’d never taken a virgin before, but he knew his sister had once claimed her girlfriend would forgive her anything if she treated her like a virgin and put some effort into seducing her. Brogan had snorted in amusement at the claim, while Samantha had stared back at him with a confident smile.
Picking up his own overnight bag, he moved to the shower in the next room. The damned thing was the size of two of his bathroom at the inn, let alone the shower. It was much too large for one person.
If Eve was there with him, though . . . The bench on the other side of the shower was easily six feet long and nearly as wide. Hell, the things he could do to her luscious little body on that bench as the rain showerhead poured down on them.
Showering quickly, all he could think about was the fact that she was still a virgin. Twenty-four years old, beautiful, social, yet she had saved herself for some reason—until now.
Drying quickly, he dressed in clean jeans and a white shirt.
Buttoning the shirt, then tucking it into his jeans before securing a belt around his hips, Brogan moved back into the living room, his gaze searching the room before he found her curled up on the wide hanging chair on the screened-in patio outside.
Padding barefoot to the open patio doors, Brogan stepped out on the stone flooring and leaned against the teak bar just outside the doors.
“You look like a teenager curled up in that chair like that,” he told her with a soft smile.
“Oh, really.” The sassiness and defiance in her voice had his balls throbbing, his dick threatening to swell impossibly wider. “Well, that just makes you a dirty old man then. Feeling the guilt yet?”
He wanted to laugh. Damn her, she could have the sharpest tongue.
“I picked out my bedroom while you were freshening up,” she told him with a little arch of her brow. “It’s not nearly as nice as yours, of course, but it’s still pretty swanky.”
She’d obviously explored the house some while he had been showering.
Lifting a glass to her lips, she sipped at the white wine she’d obviously found in the large walk-in refrigerator. The house had an actual walk-in refrigerator, which had amazed Brogan the first time he had been there.
Propping one arm on the bar, he just watched her, biding his time. She was sitting over there trying to convince herself she could control what was going to happen this weekend and how it was going to happen. And he would give anything to allow her the opportunity to see whether she could use all those very perceptive instincts and feminine wiles to control him. Unfortunately, in the middle of an operation with the potential to turn nasty fast was no place to allow himself to be that distracted.
“Are you ready to tell me who owns this place yet?” she asked when he said nothing more.
“I’ll tell you everything before we leave Sunday,” he promised her. “Hold your questions until then.”
“How very ominous,” she murmured as she brought the wineglass to her lips once again. “Let me guess: You’re waiting until Sunday because you know once you explain everything, I’m going to be either so pissed, so brokenhearted, or both that you won’t have a chance in hell of getting me into your bed.”
She was good; he had to give her that.
He merely grinned back at her, and kept his opinion to himself. His opinion and his confessions. It was the confessions that were going to get him in trouble. Or might piss her off for a while.
Of course, sometimes she was so much like her brother she might actually shoot him.
“I’m going to bed; I’m tired.” Sliding from the chair, still wearing those strappy four-inch peep-toe heels and carrying her glass of wine, she strolled toward him with such sensual grace and sleepy-eyed arousal, he had to clench his teeth, grinding off yet more enamel, to keep from throwing her to the couch and taking her with all the finesse of a callow, inexperienced teen.
He waited until she was ready to pass him. Until he was confident she actually thought she was going to get past him.
Then he stepped in front of her.
“You haven’t seen all the rooms yet,” he told her softly. “How can you be certain you’ve chosen the right one if you’ve missed any?”
Her heart was pounding. He could see the proof of it at her throat, where her vein pulsed at a rapid pace beneath her flesh. It was there in the hard, quick rise and fall of her breasts and the fine trembling of her body.
“The room I chose is fine, I’m sure.”
God help him, her nipples were as tight and hard beneath the material of her dress as little pebbles.<
br />
He lifted his hand and stroked the backs of his fingers down her cheek as her breath caught before she exhaled with a rough little sigh.
“You know what’s going to happen,” he told her as her lips parted to facilitate her breathing.
“That doesn’t mean it’s going to happen right now,” she informed him. He let her lift the wineglass and take a healthy sip before he spoke.
“I don’t heel worth shit,” he told her then. “You won’t control me, Eve, you won’t tame me, and you won’t dominate me. Now, that’s a warning I’ve never given another woman, and I won’t waste my time telling you again. So if that’s what you think you’re going to do, then I highly suggest you reconsider your options.”
Eve stared back at him silently, careful to keep her mouth firmly shut until she was certain she had a handle on the anger ready to burst past her lips.
When she felt she could speak civilly she smiled back at him with cool disdain.
“Brogan. Number one.” She held her forefinger up to him imperiously. “I am not now, nor have I ever been, some bitch who needs to be warned how arrogant, controlling, dominant, and manipulative men such as you can be until you realize just how it can potentially damage a relationship you decide you don’t want to lose.”
“Eve—”
“I listened to the bullshit spilling from your lips, Brogan; you can take a few precious minutes of your time to listen to common sense now.”
That finger pointed up toward his face imperiously.
“Number two,” she continued. “Not only am I not a bitch to jump at your command, neither am I some whore you bought for fifty bucks, or the mistress you support. Just because you all but kidnapped me does not mean I owe you so much as my company, let alone my virginity.”
She watched as his eyes narrowed on her, the blue-gray definitely turning steel gray at the mention of her virginity.
“And number three,” she snapped, unable to hold back the anger caused by so much adrenaline with no place to go. “If you can’t respect me, Brogan, and see me as your equal, then I’ll be damned if you’re even in the running for my virginity.”
She was finished now.
Stepping back, she propped her hands on her hips and glared at him. He smiled. And that smile sent trepidation surging through her.
“My equal?” he asked. “Sweet pea, when you can work a ten-hour day in the freezing rain, take down four drug-crazed dealers intent on having your head, keep up with my daily workout, and show me you’ve grown a ten-inch dick at some point, then I will most gladly drop all my dominant, manipulating schemes to rid you of your virginity and will then consider you my equal.” His hand shot out, grabbed her wrist, and, before she could jerk it back, he used it to drag her to him, his other arm locking around her back to hold her to him. Eve found herself up and close and personal.
“Ten . . .” she squeaked as his hips pressed against her firmly while he held her close enough that there was no escaping the fact that he might not be lying.
“Outside our bed, outside what is sure to be some damned fucking mind-blowing sex, you can attempt to tame me until hell freezes over, if that’s what you want.” His head lowered, and the erotic demand and white-hot lust that tightened his features completely stole her breath as he continued. “But you will not control nor tame the dominance and sexual tastes that are as much a part of me as the color of my eyes or the sound of my voice. And I’m still damned sure going to accept your virginity.”
She didn’t remember offering it, and he didn’t give her a chance to offer or refuse.
Brogan lifted her closer as his lips slanted over hers, heated and hungry, the rough velvet feel of them staking a claim on her senses that she’d always known was coming.
The kisses they had shared before now were nothing compared to this one.
Eve whimpered in rising pleasure as her hands slid from where they were pressed against his chest to grip his shoulders. Sensation swirled inside her, around her, threatening to destroy any hope she ever had of escaping the hold she could feel he was taking of her soul.
As he lifted her closer, bringing her feet off the floor and urging her knees to his hips, Eve moaned at the implications of the position. She gripped his hips anyway, because she couldn’t help herself. Because the feel of his erection, heavy with lust and pressing tight against his jeans, was driving her crazy with need.
Using his hips as leverage, she rose and fell against the wedge of heat between her thighs, grinding it against her pussy, rubbing the denim covering it against the silk of her panties, and pressing it against the swollen, too-sensitive bud of her clit.
Suddenly she could feel things she had never felt before where her own body was concerned. She was feeling things she had never known she could feel until Brogan.
The emptiness of her vagina, clenched and aching; she could feel the desperate need to be filled. To be possessed.
His lips continued to devour hers; he took deep, stinging kisses and licked at the burn before deepening the kiss again. His tongue pressed between her lips, licked and teased hers. His lips slanted over hers as his tongue tasted against hers, and the taste of them together became intoxicating.
She was only barely aware of him moving, walking the distance from the patio to the bedroom, she assumed as he lowered her to the incredibly lush support of a mattress. His lips slid to the curve of her jaw before he lowered himself to his knees.
Her knees were still gripping his thighs. As he lifted from her, hurriedly unbuttoning his shirt, Eve stared around them in awe, taking in the incredibly romantic candlelit bedroom. The soft light cast a dreamy quality through the netting draped over the bed in several layers.
Like a scene out of one of the naughty romance books she liked to read, the candlelight gleamed against the bronzed flesh of his chest and shoulders as he shed the shirt. He was living proof that redheads could indeed tan to that gorgeous bronze color.
Lifting her hands, she ran them down his chest, past his flexing abdomen, to the leather belt cinching his hard waist.
Loosening the leather, she smothered a cry at the feel of his hands pushing the chiffon of her dress above her thighs. His gaze locked with hers as she struggled with the metal tabs securing his jeans.
When she eased up until she was sitting in front him, he let her have her way. When she released the last tab, he caught her hands, holding her from her prize.
“What?” she demanded desperately, her hands secured by his.
“Undress for me, Eve.” The demand in his voice should have pissed her off, rather than making her wet between her thighs.
Swallowing tightly as he eased back and helped her from the bed, Eve found herself standing before him, suddenly uncertain, trembling.
“I don’t . . .” She swallowed again, her hands lifting helplessly.
“Shh, baby,” he whispered, catching her hands, and as she watched he brought her hands to his lips, turned them, then pressed a kiss to each palm before he released them.
“I fantasize about watching you undress,” he said softly as he rose before her and shed his jeans. “Every time I jack off it’s to the images of you.” He sat back down on the bed, his fingers gripping the broad length of his cock, and began stroking it slowly as she watched, mesmerized.
The wide, engorged crest throbbed demandingly as a creamy bead of pre-come formed at the tip. Eve licked her lips nervously, unable to draw her gaze from the heavily veined shaft and throbbing head.
“How does that pretty dress come off, Eve?” he asked, the low, caressing murmur of his voice drawing free a sensuality she hadn’t known burned within her.
Lifting her hands, her gaze locked on his fingers as he caressed himself, Eve slowly reached behind her back and slid the zipper down. She knew what she wore beneath the dress. She had worn what she dreamed of wearing for him.
After releasing the zipper, Eve lifted her shoulders and slowly lowered the material over the black lace bra and matching bikini
panties. The chiffon fell to her feet, revealing the silk thigh-high stockings gripping her thighs with a band of lacy elastic, while the four-inch heels made her legs look incredibly long.
Brogan’s fingers stilled on his cock, his gaze glittering with lust as it went over the lacy underthings.
Reaching back, Eve moved to unclip the fastening of the bra. Once the tiny hook released, she shrugged the straps from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
He was stroking his erection again, his fingers tightening at the base as she bent to loosen the heels she wore.
“Leave the shoes and the stockings,” he growled, reaching out to thread his fingers through her hair before she lifted her head.
“Eve,” he whispered her name, but the command, the dominance in his tone left her trembling. “If I ask for something and you’re uncomfortable, make certain the discomfort is because you’re not certain you want it rather than because of your innocence.”
He was trying to still the demand in his tone and give the statement more of the appearance of a request, but she knew what he was doing, just as she knew what he wanted.
He held her head, staring back at her as he stroked his erection, and Eve felt a shudder race through her as he slowly released his grip on her hair.
She straightened, restraining a low groan as he rose and held her shoulders, slowly turning her to the bed as his lips lowered to hers once again, moving against them, sipping at her lips, tasting her as his hands stroked down her back to her hips.
His lips shifted to her neck, stimulating and exciting the sensitive flesh as Eve trembled beneath him. She tipped her neck to the side, arching against him, and the hard, engorged shaft of his cock pressed against her lower stomach. Heat and steely strength throbbed against her, dragging a whimpering cry from her lips as need overcame hesitancy.
Eve’s lips found his chest, brushed the small disk of a male nipple, and she gloried in the sudden tension that tightened his body. One hand buried itself in her hair as the other gripped her thigh, holding her to him.