Wanton Heat (A Feel the Heat Novel) (Entangled Brazen) (7 page)

He could’ve sworn she muttered, “That’s for me to know and for you to find out,” before she snorted and kept walking.

With the wind whipping her lemon sundress around her thighs, and her shapely calves on full display, Dominic was heavily leaning toward the seduction option.

He shouldn’t. He couldn’t.

But he couldn’t dislodge the persistent thought that once Zoe presented her proposal, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to discover whether his charm had succeeded or not.

…

They reached the cottage as the first roll of thunder rumbled across the murky sky.

Zoe barely had time to admire the sandstone exterior before Dominic had unlocked the door and bundled her inside.

“What’s the hurry?”

“You’ll see,” he said, making a quick, perfunctory check of the window locks, his grim determination scaring her a little.

How bad was this storm going to be?

About ten seconds later, she had her answer. A massive zigzag of lightning lit up the sky, ending in a loud crack that made her jump.

“That was close,” he said, gesturing her closer to the front window. “Come look.”

Was he nuts? Back home, she’d have the curtains drawn and would be hiding inside a closet with a storm this bad. She’d never liked thunder, had never forgotten her dad telling her it was God’s way of showing how angry he was with kids who didn’t behave. Thunder had petrified her as a kid, and having her tree house struck by lightning and demolished as a result hadn’t helped.

“I’m fine over here,” she said, not moving from the doorway to a spacious lounge complete with ruby suede sofas, a handmade coffee table, and thick, plush ebony rugs. The furniture contrasted perfectly with the ivory sandstone floor and walls. Fire and ice. Beautiful.

“You’re scared?” He sounded incredulous, and it made her bristle.

“Don’t be stupid. I just don’t like standing in front of a window when I could be struck dead by a stray bolt of lightning.”

“I’ll protect you.” He strode across the room, stopping two feet away when she tried to ward him off with a hand that embarrassingly shook. “Shit, you’re seriously scared.”

“Who knew, the prince is an Einstein, too,” she said, trying to cross her arms. But she was too late, and he snatched her hand and rubbed it between his.

“You can wait this out in the bedroom if you’re freaked. Close the blinds. But it might take a while.”

Touched by his thoughtfulness when she didn’t want to be, she responded, “You’d do anything to get me into the bedroom.”

The tension pinching his mouth eased. “Yeah, that’s me. So powerful I can control the weather.”

“As well as your minions, don’t forget them.”

His hands slowed, and she realized the trembling from fear of the storm had been replaced by trembling of a different kind—a deep-seated yearning making her quiver with how much she wanted him.

“I told you, don’t get hung up on the prince title.”

“So you’re just a mere mortal male beneath all that?” She eased her hand out of his and gestured at his clothes. Wishing she hadn’t when the memory of how he looked without them popped into her head. Though next time if she had him semi-naked, she’d definitely whip off that towel.

“Care to find out?” He took a step closer, and her heart flip-flopped.

She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t have sex with the one guy she needed on board to make amends for what she’d done to Allegra and their company.

Tell that to her unruly hormones, who right at this very second were urging her to do unthinkably dirty things with the exceptionally hot guy within touching distance.

“I don’t like you,” she said, desperate for a diversion and blurting the first thing that popped into her head.

If she’d expected it to deter him, it didn’t.

He grinned, the predatory, smug grin of a guy who knew what he wanted and was looking straight at it.

“The feeling’s mutual,
cara
, but liking isn’t essential for what I have in mind.”

She shouldn’t ask him; she really shouldn’t. But she couldn’t resist. “And what’s that?”

“You really want to know?” He took another step closer, and this time, less than an inch separated their bodies. “Because once I tell you, there will be no turning back.”

Back off now
, screamed her conscience.

To hell with it
, murmured her inner bad girl.

“Maybe you’re all talk? Maybe you’re trying to distract me so I botch my presentation? Maybe you’re just toying with me in some warped game you play with all your women—”

His mouth crushed hers. Silencing her. Tormenting her.

He backed her up against the nearest wall. Sandstone dug into her back. She didn’t care.

He ravished her mouth and ground his pelvis against her. She responded by nipping his tongue and hooking a leg around his waist.

They had too many clothes on.

A thought apparently shared by the prince as his hand slid beneath her skirt and ripped her panties off.

She whimpered. He deepened the kiss until she could barely breathe.

His fingertips grazed her thighs, her hips, her ass. Light, feathery touches that pebbled her skin and made her shiver with want.

She wriggled against him, desperate for him to touch her where she throbbed. But His Highness seemed intent on teasing her, because he eased the pressure against her mouth, making her whimper.

He grazed her lips repeatedly, maddeningly soft, incredibly sensual. And all the while, his fingertips maintained their leisurely exploration beneath her skirt, driving her wild with the urge to rip everything off and ride him into oblivion.

When his fingers scraped the tender skin on the inside of her thigh, she moaned so loud it echoed all the way down to her soul.

And that’s when Dominic sensed her urgency. His lips slammed against hers. Devouring her mouth. Driving her insane with the relentless craving to have him inside her. Now.

Zoe knew she should stop this madness. She really should. But then he touched her clit, a slow, deliberate swipe that had her insides clenching. She really needed to be clenching around him.

She tried to insinuate her hands between their bodies, but he wouldn’t let her, maintaining his sensual assault on her mouth while his thumb circled her clit.

Her orgasm built too quickly, and she tried to squirm away. It was too fast, too intense, too much. She was out of control, on a one-way trip to hedonistic heaven, without any fricking clue of how to come back.

He slid a finger inside her in response. Another. Then another. Stretching her. Filling her. Pumping into her while his thumb picked up the pace.

The pleasure built. Her muscles tightened. And then she shattered, screaming into his mouth as she came.

She was only vaguely aware of the unzipping and the tearing of foil. But her awareness improved when he gripped her ass, hoisted her up, and slid into her.

Jeez, he was big. Seriously big. Filling her so deeply, so completely, to the point of pain. Then he moved, sliding slowly out and in again, and that fleeting pain was replaced by exquisite, mind-numbing pleasure.

He nuzzled the tender skin beneath her ear. She bit his shoulder.

He nipped her earlobe. She licked beneath his jaw.

He thrust into her so deep, she almost saw stars. She scoured his back so hard he groaned, and she wasn’t sure if it was in a good way.

When he changed the angle of his pelvis, driving into her deeper than she ever thought possible, she had an epiphany. Sex before Dominic? Merely a prelude to the real thing.

This was rough and ready and oh so wild.

Her second orgasm slammed into her unexpectedly but was just as cataclysmic as the first. He tensed a second later before he came, his moan drowned out by a crash of thunder.

Zoe had no idea how long they stood there, him buried inside her, her legs cramping, the rough-hewn wall digging into her back, the wind howling outside, and the lightning illuminating the room.

She didn’t care. For as long as she focused on the sensational sex they’d just had, she could drown out the insistent thoughts, most of them centered on “what the fuck have you just done?”

…

Dominic had no idea what the hell had just happened.

One minute he’d been deliberately baiting Zoe to see how far he could go to rattle her, the next he’d shoved her up against the wall and had mind-blowing sex. In silence. No murmured endearments, no sexy whispers. He’d taken her. Hard and fast and rough.

Merda
. Worse than shit. She must think he was some kind of animal.

He eased out of her and waited until her legs hit the floor before releasing her. He couldn’t even look her in the eye.

“I’ll be back in a second,” he said, heading to the bathroom to take care of business. All the while chastising himself for being a heartless Neanderthal.

He took his time. Splashed water on his face. Tried to ignore the devastating guilt in his eyes as he stared in the mirror.

How on earth could he face this woman for business now?

That mental pep talk on the boat? The one where he knew it’d be wrong to have sex with her when he had no intention of even considering her proposal? When he’d accused her of being exactly like the rest of the suck-ups in his life? Obliterated the moment he kissed her.

Yeah, he was a heartless bastard. He should apologize, then keep his distance until they were done on the island and could go their separate ways.

So why was he eager to find her again? And eager for more. So much more.

When he returned to the lounge, she was nowhere to be found, and for an insane moment he wondered if she’d chosen to brave the storm rather than face him. Then he heard a clang in the kitchen and he headed that way, surprised to find her rummaging in the pantry. She was bent over, checking out the bottom shelves, her sexy ass in the air. Covered by that little yellow sundress only, because he’d shredded her panties.

His cock hardened immediately. What he wouldn’t give to cross the kitchen in three strides, flip that skirt up, and take her from behind.

“I want pancakes, and I can’t find the flour,” she said, shoving canisters aside. “Are you going to help or stand there staring at my ass all day?”

The fact that she’d made a joke encouraged him. So she wasn’t mad at his he-man act. But he still had no idea how to respond. Should he apologize? Laugh it off? Grovel?

“Did I mention my blood sugar goes haywire when I’m hungry, and I go a little nuts?” She finally straightened and whirled to face him, her gaze zeroing in on the obvious bulge in his shorts. “While I appreciate the sentiment and could go for round two, sex makes me ravenous, and I need to eat now.”

Startled by her brazenness, he stepped into the kitchen and headed for the stove, where he busied himself finding the right size pan. “There’s premade pancake mix in a stone canister on the top shelf. Long-life milk on the bottom shelf.”

“Thanks.”

When she turned away and wasn’t watching him with wide-eyed wariness, he said, “I’m sorry about before. I shouldn’t have—”

“You’re apologizing for the sex?” She whirled on him, radiating indignation. “Don’t do that, okay? It was phenomenal.” Her shoulders slumped. “And wrong on so many levels I can’t begin to articulate. But it’s done. We both enjoyed it. At least, I did, and I’m assuming you did, too?”

He heard her hint of vulnerability, and it made him want to sweep her into his arms and hold her. He settled for banging the pan on the stove instead. “It has been a long time for me, so yes, the sex was amazing.”

She puffed up like an outraged bullfrog. “So anyone would’ve done? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No, of course not.” Shit, he was making a mess of this. “You were…incredible,” he finished lamely, not wanting to say she was the best sex he’d ever had. For the simple fact of how responsive and uninhibited she’d been.

She hadn’t wanted the lights out or thousand-thread-count sheets. She hadn’t wanted thirty minutes of dictated foreplay or nonstop compliments. She’d matched him, clawing and writhing and just being in the moment.

It had been fucking unbelievable.

Wildly erotic and he’d be hard for a week just remembering every detail: the sounds she made, the way she bit him, how she wanted him all the way.

“I can live with incredible,” she said, a small, smug smile curving her kiss-ravaged lips. “But as much as I’d like to stand here and discuss your prowess, I need pancakes. Stat.”

He could handle cooking pancakes. What he couldn’t handle was the relentless urge to hoist her onto the kitchen bench and do her again.

“You mix, I’ll fry,” he said, firing up the stove and spraying the pan with oil. He needed to keep busy. Needed to focus on something other than sex.

He succeeded for about three minutes, until Zoe sidled up to him with the batter. The moment he caught her light floral scent with a hint of something muskier, he lost it.

He switched off the stove and turned to face her. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the wildness that must have been reflected in his tortured gaze.

“I said pancakes first—”

“Fuck the pancakes.”

At least he took the time to remove the batter bowl from her hands and place it on the counter before hoisting her onto it.

He spread her legs and buried his face between them. Licked her. Savored her low groan as he swiped his tongue over her clit and delved between her moist folds. He’d never tasted anything so sweet.

His cock pulsed with the need to be buried deep inside where his tongue currently probed. So he unzipped and freed himself. Stroked his cock while he licked her. Desperate to hold back the escalating tension.