Her Tycoon to Tame (16 page)

With a bow, their guest ducked into the car—not a moment
too soon. Wyatt waited until the limo rounded a curve in the driveway and the taillights winked out of sight.

“For what delivery is he planning to return?”

“Rashed made a one-point-eight million dollar deposit on one of Commander's yet-to-be-born foals today. You've given the staff the authority to operate as usual, so you weren't consulted.” She tugged her hand from his. “It would have been polite for me to escort him back to his hotel.”

“So you could thank him properly for the twenty-five grand?” Damn it. That had sounded like jealousy. And he was not.

Her cheeks reddened. “Does being obnoxious come naturally to you? You do it with such skill.”

“You had him eating out of your hand.”

The ruby pendant glistened in the porch light as she took an angry breath, drawing his attention to the soft swells of her breasts. Swells he yearned to touch, to taste.

“It's my job as your hostess to be charming, and that's easy to do when someone is as gracious, knowledgeable and entertaining as Rashed.”

“Gracious? The man flirted with you throughout the meal. Perhaps because of your dress.”

Her eyes rounded. “What's wrong with my dress?”

Besides the fact that Wyatt wanted to peel it from her? “It's provocative.”

“Oh, for pity's sake. I—” She shook her head. “Never mind. Good night, Wyatt.” She pivoted.

This wasn't going as planned, but Hannah, damn her, had the ability to shatter his composure. He recaptured her hand and pulled her around, knowing even as he did so that detaining her now was a mistake. He was too on edge after watching her work their guest all night. He would do better to make his pitch tomorrow—after he'd calmed down.

“You look inviting, Hannah. I wouldn't want Shakkar to get the wrong idea.”

“So you've said. But I never once implied to Rashed that I was available in that way.”

“Aren't you?”

She grimaced. “He's almost my father's age. And believe it or not, contrary to my recent actions, I am usually extremely selective about who shares my bed.”

Once again, she jerked her hand free. Not liking the out-of-control feeling boiling through him, he let her go.

She took two steps away then faced him again with her hands curled into fists by her sides. “What is your problem, Wyatt? You don't want me so you don't think any other man should?”

He should have known Hannah wouldn't act as expected. Thus far she'd done nothing but surprise him. “I never said I didn't want you, Hannah. In fact, I do want you. Very much. I believe we could come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“What kind of arrangement?” she asked suspiciously.

“Our chemistry is too potent to be denied or ignored. Become my mistress and you can keep your job and your home and I'll continue funding FYC. The only difference will be that when I'm here, you'll spend your nights in my bed.”

 

Wyatt's mistress.

Nights in his bed.

Hannah's breath shuddered from her lungs, forced out by her pounding heart. The switch from Wyatt's cool and distant demeanor during dinner to the request for her to become his mistress made her head spin. Not his
lover,
but his
mistress.
That distinction defined their roles quite explicitly, pulling her in and keeping his distance simultaneously. Like an animal whose trust had been abused.

The air between them crackled with electricity and awareness—the way it had each time their gazes had met across the dinner table tonight. So yes, maybe she'd tried a little harder to entertain Rashed, been a bit more talkative, laughed too much and sipped a bit too much wine all in an
effort to hide the effect Wyatt had on her. Her face ached from all the smiling she'd done.

“Wyatt, what do you really want? Do you even know? You claimed you wanted a horse farm, and yet you've shown no interest in running one. Then you said you wanted to help Sam, but your overprotectiveness holds him back. And now you say you want me in your bed, and yet you've insulted me at every opportunity.”

“I want you. I want this.” He hooked a hand behind her nape as swiftly as a striking snake. His mouth slammed over hers and he took, greedily, aggressively mashing his lips against hers and ravaging her tongue with his. But his hunger only magnified her own.

He tasted of after-dinner coffee, brandy and…Wyatt. Delicious, seductive, sexy Wyatt. Adrenaline blasted through her veins. The man knew how to kiss. But to be his mistress? She couldn't imagine going into an intimate relationship knowing it would be temporary.

With her lips tingling and her body weakened by want, she made a last-ditch attempt to reclaim rational thought by wedging her hands between them and pushing against his chest. “I don't know if I'm mistress material.”

Wyatt's gaze burned with hunger. “That's all I can offer, Hannah.”

Given the way his trust had been violated in the past, she couldn't blame him for being leery of relationships. But his dedication to Sam proved he had the capacity to bond deep in his wounded wary heart. All she had to do was prove it to him.

Wyatt had so much potential. The invitation to become his mistress was like the door to a perfect opportunity opening a crack. If she could earn his trust and gently break past his barriers, he would be whole again.

With each thump of his heart against her palm, heat pulsed up her arms then settled heavily in her belly. She wanted him, craved him, ached for him, yearned to relive that cataclysmic
rush of desire they'd shared. But more than that, she wanted Wyatt to realize that it was okay to trust and care and open his heart to love.

A voice in her head urged her to back away and guard her heart. But what better way to teach him to trust than to open herself to him? It was risky. Very. Very. Risky. But for his sake, for Sutherland Farm's and FYC's sakes, she had to try. She would simply have to make sure to hold a bit of her heart in reserve because the time would come—as it did with every rescue—to let go.

She gulped down her doubts and took a deep breath. “I accept your terms.”

His strong arms banded around her, molding her torso to his. Even before their lips met urgent desire drenched her like warm honey. As he lowered his head she rose on tiptoe to meet him and wound her arms around his waist, digging her fingers into his hard muscles. The unleashed passion in his kiss trampled her, filling her with urgency.

There were too many barriers between them. She needed to strip him down—physically, emotionally. She fumbled with the buttons of his shirt until she found hot, supple skin. While their tongues tangled, she splayed her fingers over his pectorals and impatiently shoved fabric out of her way without breaking the kiss that melted her insides. Her fingers bumped over his tiny beaded nipples once, twice.

His groan of approval vibrated through her and her womb spasmed in anticipation, then he tore his mouth away, hissing a breath between his teeth. “I want you in my bed.”

“Then take me there.”

He grabbed her hand and towed her through the front door. Without turning on the lights he led her up the stairs. She'd traveled this path countless times when she'd lived here so she had no trouble recalling each tread in the darkness.

He led her to the double doors that had once been the entrance to her father's suite. Uncertainties about the wisdom of this choice flickered through her. She'd come across a few
animals in her time whose trust could never be regained. What if Wyatt was one of them?

But then he backed her against the door frame and kissed her again. His hands skimmed over her hips, her waist, her breasts, stealing her breath, making her dizzy with desire and vaporizing any reservations she might have had. He cupped her bottom and pulled her hips to his. The thick column of his erection against her tummy made her ache for his possession. She threaded her fingers through the springy hair at his nape, and a shudder racked him.

He swept her into his arms, kicked the door shut and crossed the inky dark room. Not even a sliver of moonlight penetrated the window coverings. She couldn't see anything, but that only magnified her other senses. A trace of his cologne lingered in the air mixed with that certain something unique to Wyatt. His breaths teased the hair at her temples, tickling her in the most erotic way.

He released her legs, easing her feet to the floor in a slow, seductive slide of her body against his. Her feet sank into deep carpet. His fingertip traced the ruffled edge of her bodice, then dipped into her cleavage. He touched her pendant, circled it, flicked it, rolled it between his fingers.

“This has been driving me crazy all night. I wanted to taste you here.”

The sexual nuance in his voice rumbled over her skin like a sandpaper caress. Her nipples puckered as he bent to brush his lips across the spot his fingertip had marked.

He reached for her zipper. Then, in a frantic tangle of arms and legs, they undressed each other. She splayed her hands on his chest, mapping his muscles with her fingertips. She traced his collarbone, his broad shoulders, the veins cording his big biceps, then stroked down his sternum and circled his nipples. His breath roughened, quickened.

Her fingers bumped over the valleys between his abdominal muscles, then he caught her upper arms and snatched her forward. Bare skin slapped bare skin. Every naked scalding
inch of his chest, belly and thighs branded hers. His teeth sank into the side of her neck—not hard enough to hurt, but with enough pressure to make her squeak in surprise and tremble with desire. His tongue swirled a teasing pattern across her shoulder and goose bumps lifted her flesh.

Deft fingers found her nipples, pinching and rolling with the perfect amount of pressure to make her weak in the knees. His ability to know exactly when and how and where to touch her to drive her wild couldn't be sheer luck or just skill. It had to be more—like the rare magical winning combination of a champion mare-stud combo. A meant-to-be union.

He tweaked and caressed until she squirmed impatiently. Then his fingers dug into her hair, releasing the clip. Cool strands rained down onto her shoulders, teasing like sensual feathers. She shivered and reached between them to wrap her fingers around his thick erection. Hot. Hard. Satiny. She stroked his length, up, down, up again, savoring the guttural encouragement her caresses elicited. His hands covered hers, stilling her.

“Wyatt, I can't wait to have you inside me,” she whispered.

He swept her into his arms again, carried her across the room and lowered her. The cool fabric of his bed against her overheated skin shocked a gasp from her. Before she could recover, he whisked her panties away. A drawer beside her opened, then closed. The mattress dipped, then blazing heat enclosed her nipple. Wyatt sucked her, grazed her with his teeth, laved her with his tongue.

The sensations building inside her were so stupendously wonderful she didn't want him to stop. She speared her fingers into his hair and held him close. He transferred his attention to the opposite breast while his fingers outlined her waist, hips, thigh, then ever so slowly scraped along the inside of her knee before heading upward at a snail's pace.

Torn between urging him to hurry and wanting to savor each second and make it last, she tensed in anticipation as he inched near her center. And then the slightly rough pad of his
finger moved over her, making her gasp and jump at the slash of desire ripping through her.

He simultaneously teased her with his mouth and his hands, until her muscles contracted and her back arched as she strained for release. She massaged his shoulders, digging her nails into his thick muscles as her climax neared.

“That feels…so good,” she managed to say in a broken whisper. He lifted his head. A moan of disappointment spilled from her lips. “Please don't stop.”

“One of the things I've noticed about you, Hannah, is that you take your sweet time with everything—until we're in bed. Then you rush.”

“I can't help it. You make me—” She bit off the confession. He didn't need to know that she'd never felt anything even remotely as profound as she did with him.

His breath steamed the skin at the base of her breastbone, then traversed down her midline. His tongue dipped into her navel, then cruised lower. He palmed her legs apart. Then his hot tongue flicked over her. She jerked and cried out at the almost unbearable intensity of the pleasure assailing her. And then he stopped.

She fisted her hands in the sheets in frustration.

“I make you what, Hannah?”

“Want. You.”
Forever.

No. No. No. Not forever. Only until he's healed.

“The feeling's mutual.” He dipped his head and set a rhythm destined to drive her insane. She focused on that rather than her crazy thoughts, and he made it easy. Each sweep of his tongue jacked up her response. Each sip of her flesh emptied her lungs. Pressure built, like an inflating balloon, then she exploded as orgasmic shock waves rocked her.

The pulsing waves receded and her tension eased, but before she could catch her breath Wyatt began his assault anew, relentlessly pleasuring her. The second orgasm hit harder, faster, before she was ready.

Decimated, weak, spent, she hooked her hands under his arms and tugged. “Wyatt, please, I need you inside me.”

“Not as much as I need to be there.”

She couldn't see his face in the darkness, but she could feel his heat, hear his raspy breath and the hunger in his voice and that stoked hers. He rose over her then, the thick head of his erection nudged her opening. He paused, but she couldn't wait. She lifted her hips to meet him and used her hands to guide him. He sank deep in one smooth plunge, filling her completely. His groan rolled over her, then he withdrew.

She gripped his hips and pulled him back, relishing the contractions of his buttocks as he returned. She wound her legs around him and locked her ankles behind his back. Only then did she realize she still wore her heels. The knowledge made her feel a little bit naughty, a tad kinky and very, very sexy.