Her Tycoon to Tame (13 page)

Wishing he had on his hiking boots, he made his way carefully through the shadowy woods with the aid of the flashlight beam. He didn't see or hear Hannah ahead of him as he descended a hill and rounded a bend.

He reached a clearing and stopped. The brightening sky illuminated a pond, its surface disturbed along one side. Hannah sat on the end of a small dock in front of a white structure that resembled a boathouse. Despite the cold bite of the morning air she had her pant legs rolled up and her feet kicking in the water. She looked young and carefree—something he hadn't been in a long time.

A twig snapped beneath his foot as he closed the distance and she startled, twisting his way with her hand to her chest. “Wyatt, you scared me.”

“You shouldn't be wandering through the woods alone in the dark.”

“I know this property as well as I know my own skin.”

Becoming familiar with Hannah's skin was not a path he
needed to travel. “It's a rough trail. If you had slipped on the wet rocks, no one would have known where to look for you.”

She shrugged. “I needed a minute to clear my head.”

“You could do that in the warmth and safety of your cottage.”

She stared at the pinkish-orange glow emerging above the pine trees lining the sheer rock wall at the far bank of the lake and tinting the water with the same sherbet hues.

“This is…tradition. My mom and I used to come here every time we lost an animal. She always said this place reminded her that the end of anything was always the beginning of something else.”

“A philosophy that makes loss a little easier to swallow, but it's not always true.”

“Says you. Mom was a fierce competitor, but she had another side that only Dad and I were allowed to see. She was a pushover for any injured or orphaned critter. She rescued cats, dogs, birds, rabbits, squirrels…just about any living thing.”

Hannah swirled her feet, sending fresh ripples across the surface and drawing his attention to her sexy red toenail polish. “This was the place where we set the wild ones free or said goodbye to those that didn't make it. I've kept up her practice of coming here to say goodbye to stock and students.”

“Stock and
students?
”

“FYC's clients often have health issues. A few have passed away while still enrolled.” Her drawn face said more than words.

“And you mourn them all.”

“Of course.”

He couldn't fathom lining up for dose after dose of pain. He'd learned the hard way from his father, his mother and a parade of lovers that relationships always ended. He'd found it easier to keep his emotional distance.

Hannah's connection to this land was another factor working against him. That made finding a solution to his
problem more complicated. “You could save yourself a lot of heartache if you didn't get attached.”

She flashed him a look of disbelief.

“I couldn't do it any other way. If I give my time to something, usually a little piece of my heart goes along for the ride. Every life, whether human or animal, teaches us something and we're richer for having experienced it. Like the cliché says, I'd rather love and lose than never feel anything.”

“Do you honestly believe that nonsense?”

She shook her head. “That sounds cold and unfeeling, Wyatt, and we both know you're neither. If you were, you wouldn't go to so much trouble for Sam and you wouldn't have helped me last night. Nor would you have followed me down here to make sure I was safe.”

He stiffened at the accusation. He was no damned bleeding heart. “You're mistaken. We both know I'm a bottom-line bastard.”

She winced. “You heard that, huh? I'm sorry.”

“Did you mean it?”

She shifted her bottom on the dock, tucking her hands beneath her thighs. “I did at the time.”

“Then don't apologize. First impressions are usually the correct ones.” A fact he needed to remember. “Don't try to paint me as some kind of hero, Hannah. The only reason I bought Sutherland Farm for Sam was because my mother screwed him royally when she divorced him. He was forced to sell his thoroughbred farm to pay off her part of the divorce settlement. I owe him.”

“Your mom sounds lovely,” Hannah replied sarcastically. “I suppose I'll get to meet her when she comes to visit.”

“She won't visit unless she runs out of money or men.” Why in the hell had he volunteered that information? Hannah had no need to know his personal business.

She checked her watch. “I'm sure you have a busy day ahead. Don't let me keep you.”

“I'll follow you out.”

“Afraid you can't find your way?”

Her sassy comeback caught him off guard. He was beginning to like her quick tongue. “I'm not leaving you here alone.”

“Then you'd better pull up a chair.” She picked up her coffee mug and sipped, ignoring him. “I'm here to watch the sunrise.”

She was calling his bluff. He decided to take her up on it, and since there were no chairs, he'd have to join her. He had a fleeting thought as he kicked off his shoes and tugged off his socks that his time could be more valuably spent going over the new Triple Crown ad campaign. Even if he couldn't be in the office, he needed to get some work done.

He sat beside her and the cold water enclosed his feet. He whistled in a sharp breath.

“Keep your feet moving and it won't be so cold.”

A fish splashed along the bank. Birds chirped all around him. A bat skimmed along the water's surface. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done anything so laid-back and…wasteful as kicking his feet in a pond. But he couldn't work up any regret. The peacefulness of the setting enveloped him, easing the ache from his shoulders.

The sun crested the trees, illuminating Hannah's face, the flush on her cheeks and the dampness of her lips. Hunger rekindled in his gut—hunger he wasn't sure he had the reserves to deny.

As if she sensed his acceptance of the inevitable, she turned her head. Their eyes met and her feet stilled. Awareness crackled in the air between them, parting her lips, widening her pupils and lifting the fine hairs on his body like the static charge of atmospheric electricity before a lightning strike. If he had any sense, he'd leave before he did something he'd regret.

He didn't get involved with employees and he'd sworn off silver-spoon women. And yet he didn't move. The longer he
remained stationary, staring into those smoky blue eyes, the stronger the magnetic pull between them tugged.

“Hannah, if you don't get out of here now, I'm going to kiss you,” he threatened in a Hail Mary effort.

Her lashes fluttered. She bit her lip. Then the wariness faded from her expression, replaced by resignation.

“You can't scare me off, Wyatt. Not from my home. Not from my horses. Not from you. I'm made of sterner stuff than that.”

Y
ou're going to regret this.

But Hannah knew she'd regret it more if she didn't kiss Wyatt. The man had something—something that lit her up like a string of Christmas lights—and it was her duty as a scientist who studied winning genetic combinations to figure out what made the him-her connection so much more stimulating than anything she'd experienced before.

Once she figured out that secret, she'd be able to insulate herself against it…whatever
it
was.

So when Wyatt cupped her cheek in his big, warm hand to pull her closer, she leaned across the gap and met him halfway. His mouth collided with hers, hot, hard and hungry. He took control from the get-go. His tongue penetrated her lips and tangled with hers, gliding, stroking, unraveling her reservations.

She knew she was in over her head immediately and debated breaking away, because no matter how she dissected it, until a few short hours ago, she hadn't even liked Wyatt.
And one day did not a relationship make. But she couldn't pry her lips from his.

Last night she'd discovered a caring side of him—one the hard-edged tycoon fought hard to hide from the world. And today he'd come looking for her because he feared for her safety. She found Wyatt's softer side extremely attractive.

His fingers wove through her hair and curled around her nape. He sucked her bottom lip between his, lightly grazing the tender flesh with his teeth. Her senses overloaded and her head spun. Any objective analytical ability she might have possessed dove right off the dock.

How could she figure out how he did whatever he did when she could barely think? Barely breathe. In a last-ditch effort to recapture her diminishing reasoning skills she planted a hand on his chest, but the wild bump of his heart beneath her palm only exacerbated the irregular rhythm of hers.

His fingertips glided from her cheek to her neck, dusting over her sensitive nerve endings in a featherlight caress that sent ripples of pleasure across her skin like a rock skimming the lake's surface. She shivered as the sensation skipped to the pit of her stomach.

He caressed her shoulder then her upper arm, trailing his thumb along the inside of her bicep and wreaking havoc with her concentration. She tried to focus on his technique. What made his approach so much more effective? Was it the gentle tug of his lips? The inflaming slide of his tongue? The unique taste of him? The texture of his hair between her fingers? Pheromones? His…um… Mmm.

Dizzying desire made it impossible to keep a clear head. Then his arm banded around her, urging her closer. His thigh seared hers, and all she could do was revel in the soft, firmness of his lips and the strength of his arms.

She'd never been the sexually aggressive type, but the craziest urge to straddle his lap and mash herself against him from zipper to collar blindsided her. She needed to get closer. Much closer.

Just one more minute and you'll have this crazy connectivity all figured out.

She tilted her head and met him kiss for kiss, stroke for stroke and sip for sip. The muscles of his shoulders bunched and flexed beneath her palms as he smoothed the curve of her waist, rhythmically and hypnotically stroking up and down between her hip and rib cage. She mirrored the movement, feeling the leashed power beneath his clothing.

Then he covered her breast, accurately finding and buffing her nipple through her shirt and bra, and everything inside her sizzled like a hot branding iron hitting cold water. Desire curled through her like wisps of steam. It's a wonder the water lapping at her ankles didn't boil. She moaned approval into his mouth.

He broke the kiss, sucked a sharp breath and rested his cheek against hers. The mild abrasion of his morning beard rasped erotically against her skin.

“This is not smart.” The movement of his lips and the whisper of his breath against her ear made her shiver.

She searched for the willpower to pull away. Searched…and didn't find it. “No. It's not.”

He grasped her shoulders and held her at bay for a moment. The hunger in his eyes incinerated her. Then with a muttered curse, he yanked her in for another reservation-wrecking kiss. When he lifted his head again, she dug her nails into his thick biceps and whimpered in disappointment.

“I want you.”

The gravelly words vibrated through her.

This would be the right time to come to your senses, Hannah.

Who was she kidding? Even if he hadn't anchored her with his firm grip, she was honest enough to admit she'd already lost the battle. She wanted this.
Needed
this. After last night she needed to feel alive, needed to feel sexy and desirable and not like a failure. And Wyatt, for whatever reason, seemed to be the only man up to the task. But…

Sex with him was wrong on so many levels. She gulped air, hoping to inhale a little sanity, then tilted her head back, taking in his passion-darkened eyes,
ravenous
eyes that fanned the flames of her own hunger. “I want you, too, but I don't have protection.”

“I do.”

Her tummy fluttered. So much for reason, because there was no way she'd say no. “The boathouse, then.”

He shot a glance over his shoulder at the structure, then rose with that athletic grace of his and offered his hand. When Hannah curled her fingers around his a sense of rightness and purpose washed over her.

How could passion this strong be a mistake?

He lifted her to her feet and their chests gently collided, sending a current of sensation from her breasts to her toes, and then he lowered his head and kissed her again, this time raking his hands through her hair and unraveling her loose braid, then down her back to grip her bottom and press her hips against his. The thick column of his erection burned her. She shifted restlessly and blood pulsed to the contact site.

Hannah broke the embrace to gasp for air and led him toward her sanctuary. Their bare feet made no sound on the wooden dock, or maybe she simply couldn't hear their steps over her thundering heart. She opened the French doors and warmth enfolded her. Solar panels on the roof kept the small space balmy year-round. She entered the room, trying to see it from a newcomer's eyes.

Her father had left all this furniture behind in the girly summer house that her mother had decorated in whites and pastels. Twin daybeds draped with colorful quilts and lacy pillows flanked the tile-floored room with a white iron table between them.

She'd never shared this space with a man—only her mother and Megan. She could almost hear Megan cheering her on.

You go, girl. Get you some of that delicious man.

But Hannah wasn't Megan and sexy trysts had been few
and far between in Hannah's life. She'd always been more comfortable with horses than humans. Second thoughts edged in, slowing her steps.

Wyatt closed the door behind her, then his arms encircled her. His front blanketed her back with heat. He nuzzled her hair aside. Then his warm breath on her neck preceded a hot, openmouthed kiss. His tongue danced over her wildly beating pulse point, pouring fuel on the fire burning deep in her belly. His palms slid under her shirt, scorching a trail across her abdomen. A short fingernail raked along the waistband of her jeans, making her muscles contract involuntarily, then he flattened his hands on her belly.

“Mmm.” Her lungs emptied and she wallowed against him. Oh, yes, she wanted this. How could she not?

The combination of his teeth tugging on her earlobe and the ever-widening circles he drew on her torso sent her head spinning like a centrifuge, leaving her limbs weighted and her head light. She let her skull rest on his shoulder as he unfastened the button of her jeans, loosening the fabric, allowing room for a much-needed inhalation.

The rasp of her zipper gliding down vibrated through her body, and need swelled inside her with each pendulum-like sweep of his fingers slowly descending across her skin until he reached the edge of her bikini panties. Anticipation stole her breath. Then he delved beneath the lace band and her lungs filled on a gasp.

He combed through her curls, sliding lower and lower until he found moisture, moisture he used to graze over her center. The intimate stroke struck her with a lightning bolt of desire, and her knees buckled. He caught her around the waist then lifted her arms and looped them around his neck. “Hold on to me.”

The position arched her spine, pushing her bottom against his hardened flesh and thrusting her breasts upward in invitation. She lifted her heavy lids and her reflection stared back at her from the large mirror hanging opposite the doors.
Passion flushed her face and parted her lips. She'd never seen herself like this. Wanton. Hungry. Sexy. And surprisingly, it added to the urgency of the moment instead of making her turn away.

Wyatt's gaze met hers. Dark color tinted his cheekbones. He captured her nipple with his left hand, rolling, plucking, flicking. He matched the motion with his right across her most sensitive spot. Arousal bore down on her like an approaching storm. Her skin turned hot, humid, damp. Her lids grew heavier. With each slide across her center he coaxed a deeper response from her, and having him watch her increased her arousal, multiplied the eroticism of the moment tenfold.

His mouth burned her neck, ears and jaw, sucking, nipping, licking, as his fingers teased her pleasure points until she quivered in his arms. Pressure built, straining her muscles, making her quiver. She tried to keep watching him, but then release exploded from her core with such shocking sudden ferocity that her lids slammed shut and her head lolled back. She curled her tingling toes against the tiles as the sublime feeling quaked through her.

When the waves of pleasure relented her body went limp. She hung on Wyatt's supporting arm, waiting for the strength to return to her legs. She'd never ever experienced an orgasm that powerful—and with her clothes still on no less. And yet as amazing as it had been, it wasn't enough. She craved more. She needed to feel the full potency of Wyatt's passion.

She forced her eyes open and found the same hunger reflected in his expression. He shoved her jeans to the floor. Cool air skimmed her thighs as she stepped out of them. Then he whipped her shirt over her head, grasped her hand and turned her around.

The eyes she'd once thought cold burned over her like a welder's torch. His nostrils flared as he took in her lacy bra and panty set. Then he bent and brushed his lips across the swell of her breast, first one, then the other. She caught her breath and let the soft caress undulate over her.

He unfastened her bra and pulled the lace away. Her nipples puckered, shamelessly begging for his attention. A low growl rumbled from him seconds before he swept her into his arms and laid her on the nearest bed. He paused to retrieve the condom from his wallet, then dropped the black packet on the pastel quilt beside her.

He reached for the hem of his sweater, spurring her into action. “Wait. Let me.”

She knelt on the bed, grasped the soft cashmere and the T-shirt beneath and pulled both over his head simultaneously. She wanted him naked. The sooner, the better. She tossed his clothing aside and sat back to admire the taut flesh she'd uncovered.

Wyatt was all lean muscle from his broad shoulders and ropy arms to his washboard abs. His pants rode low on his hips, revealing a dark trail of hair from his navel to the leather belt encircling his narrow waist. A thick bulge pushed against the fabric of his trousers, sending a fresh bolt of hunger through her. She rested her hand over it momentarily, savoring his rigid length and his sharply indrawn breath.

Then impatience took over. Her hands shook as she eagerly worked leather from the brass buckle, then tackled the hook and zipper. She looped her fingers beneath the band of his boxers and pants and eased them over his erection. His size sent her pulse skipping faster with anticipation.

She pushed his pants down his thighs. Then, wanting to share the pleasure she'd received, she curled her fingers around him and stroked his hot, hard, satiny heat. His breath turned choppy and a milky drop appeared on the thick head. A shudder of pure, animalistic need racked her.

She bent to taste him, but before she could make contact his fingers plunged into her hair, cradling her skull and lifting her for another voracious kiss. Their hot torsos melded for a heart-stopping moment, then he eased her backward and whisked away her panties before following her down. The wiry hair
on his thighs tickled her tender skin in the most erotic way as his knees separated hers and his chest burned her breasts.

She wound her arms around him, dragging her palms over the muscles bunching and flexing in his back. His head snapped back, ending the tangle of tongues and teeth with a hiss. He quickly donned the protection, but instead of driving inside her and filling the void the way she wanted, needed,
craved,
he bent to capture her nipple in his mouth.

White-hot heat enclosed her. He sucked, grazed, tugged, and her womb twisted tighter with each pull. She squirmed beneath him, impatient to ease the building pressure. His hands steadied her, gripping her knees before ever so slowly gliding upward with his thumbs, sweeping an electrifying path closer and closer to where she needed his touch the most. And then he bumped over her center, flicking the swollen flesh back and forth. Raw desire ripped through her, making her gasp.

His lips worked magic on first one breast then the other, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Her back bowed off the mattress. Her leg muscles locked and trembled as the void inside her yawned wider. He lifted his head, and she whimpered in disappointment, but the press of his arousal between her legs cut short her protest. His thumb circled again and again, holding her gaze with those hot espresso-colored eyes.

“Please, Wyatt.”

“Wait for it.” His passionate, deep voice rasped over her.

Her lungs filled as she teetered on the verge of climax. Then Wyatt plunged deep inside her, catalyzing an orgasm so intense the first one paled by comparison. Each of his powerful lunges carried her higher. She clung to his shoulders until the last spasm faded and her vision cleared.