The Other Brooks Boy (Texas Wildfire Series) (14 page)

But his hands
stilled her, holding her bottom firmly. "Be still," he demanded, then
smoothly returned to kissing her neck and breasts.

She dropped her
head back in frustration. "I can't be still," she cried. "Greg,
you're killing me."

He raised his
head to look at her, but it was clear her whining did nothing to soften him.
"Since you seem unable, I will help you obey, Cara," he said, taking
both her hands off the chair arm and placing them on his chest. He dragged his
necktie from between his thigh and the chair cushion where it had fallen, and
before she knew what he was about, had it wound twice around her wrists,
binding them together snugly. His burning green gaze found hers, unflinching
and intense as he tied her wrists together.

A pure sexual
genesis bloomed in Cara's mind, and her breath became shaky, her heart
thundering in response to feeling dominated and controlled in a way she had
never experienced, never dreamed she might desire. Quickly, efficiently, Greg
lifted her off his lap and placed her in the chair, then lifted her bound hands
up over her head. Dropping them up over the back of the chair, he warned her,
"Leave them there."

Cara obeyed,
watching him warily as he unbuttoned his shirt cuffs, all the while practically
branding her naked skin with his fiery gaze. The muscles of his chest changed
shape, bulging and rippling as he removed his shirt, and Cara longed to put her
mouth on him just as he had done to her, biting and sucking and touching him
all over. It was pure torture not to be able to touch him. She flexed her
hands, testing the strength of his knot skills, and found herself well and
truly trussed. It did something incendiary to her desire to know that she might
not be able to free herself from the ties.

He knelt before
the chair and pushed her knees apart, surprising Cara, then shoved his hands
beneath her and pulled her bottom to the front edge of the chair. Feeling
utterly vulnerable and exposed, Cara nonetheless left her hands where he had
put them, bound and dangling over the back of the chair obediently.

"That's a
good girl," he said, a knowing smile easing the hard lines of his mouth.
His palm swept down her body from shoulder to hip to knee, lighting fire in its
wake, and Cara felt herself trembling with need. "Good girls are rewarded,
Cara. Remember that," he said, then raised her left leg and hooked her
knee up over the arm of the chair. He did the same with her right leg, and Cara
whimpered slightly, discovering what it meant to submit to this man's power
over her and the feelings produced by being completely vulnerable.

He looked at her
then, opened completely to his regard. "You are so fucking hot," he
said shamelessly, then kissed her throbbing center much as he had her breasts,
lavishly, purposefully and potently driving her to the brink of madness, then
stopping just short of allowing her to finish. It was absolutely all Cara could
do to keep her hands above her head as he waited for her to lose her edge,
watching her closely.

"Greg,
please ... " she moaned, begging for the release he withheld from her.

He raised his
head slightly to look up at her. "It's hard to wait, isn't it?"

"Yes,"
she said sharply. "It's horrible ... and you're making me crazy. Please,
Greg," she pleaded.

He pushed a
finger into her pulsing warmth, making her moan, and kissed her again in that
thoroughly maddening way, all tongue and heat and the perfect amount of
pressure in the perfect place. She writhed against his hand and mouth, finding
a rhythm that wouldn't allow release to escape her this time, her breath coming
out in sharp little exclamations. She was far beyond caring what she sounded like,
looked like, or who might hear them.

Greg stayed with
her this time, finally allowing her to come in a shattering paroxysm of
pleasure so powerful it was nearly painful. It threw her head back and drew all
her muscles to a tetany of contractions, all pulsing with profound
satisfaction.

Greg kissed the
tingling skin of her thigh as her pleasure ebbed away, then stood and reached
for her bound hands, pulling her to her feet. Still dazed from her powerful
orgasm, Cara was hardly aware of what he was doing. But Greg was fully in
charge, lying her down on the bed, then pulling her to the edge. He unzipped
his pants and loosed his erection, quickly rolled on a condom, then in one
swift push, entered her fully, burying himself to the hilt. There was no
finesse involved in this pure pumping, driving, primitive search for
fulfillment. He pulled Cara's knees up and drove hard, slamming into her again
and again until finally, he found his own satisfaction, his breath releasing on
a groan.

Somehow they
ended up entwined in one another's arms across the middle of the bed, both
breathing heavily, Greg still wearing his slacks and sox.

"Am I
forgiven?" she whispered, still breathless.

"I'm
undecided. Let me think on it some," he murmured exhaustedly into her
hair, but he smiled.

"Fine. But
you're a taskmaster," she said, just shy of petulant.

He slapped her
on the ass, one sharp, smarting smack, and she yelped in response.

"Don't you
forget it, girl," he told her, but took the sting away with a warm,
caressing palm.

She looped her
still bound hands around his neck and burrowed into his chest, kissing and
nuzzling like she'd wanted to earlier. "Mmmm, I love your chest."

"Mmmm, I
love that you love my chest," he answered. "I'm rather fond of yours
myself."

"We're a
good team," she told him between kisses pressed to twin muscles above and
a six-pack below. "We should do this more often."

"You're
damn right, we should," he said firmly, lifting his head off the bed to
watch her ministrations to his torso.

She raised her
head to look up at him. "I've missed you."

He rolled them
over and pushed the hair back from her face. "God, me too. You have no
idea how badly I want you some days. I think about you all the time,
Cara." His voice was full of desperation and need.

"I know, Greg.
I know. I feel the same way," she answered.

He finally
kissed her like she'd wanted him to from the moment she entered the room this
afternoon, and it made her feel centered and whole. That all was right with her
world ... finally after long weeks of want, and this final week of waiting,
filled with one niggling problem after another. The kiss lasted and lingered,
reacquainted and reunited. So very good.

***

Greg didn't
think he'd ever get enough of kissing Cara. He loved everything about kissing
her ... her taste, her moaning little sighs, the soft give of her plump lips
and the silky goodness of her tongue against his. It was like nourishment, and
he'd been damn near starved for it.

He'd be content
to stay in this South Beach hotel room all weekend long and love on Cara. It
sounded like a great plan to him.

Cara stretched
languidly, her joined hands lifted high above her head on the bed, a satisfied
smile on her face. "Oh, mercy ... I feel so much better."

Greg chuckled.
"In spite of your hands being tied together?"

She looped her
arms back over his head and smiled a thoroughly wicked smile at him.
"Maybe
because
of my hands being tied together," she said
silkily, then laughed that sexy laugh that got him every single time.

He nuzzled her
neck and chuckled with her. "So you were never intimidated, huh?" He
pulled back some to look at her.

She wrinkled her
nose and nodded quickly. "I have to admit I was a little intimidated. At
first, I was irritated, especially when I thought you really were angry with
me. But then I figured out your game and I felt differently about it."

He rolled them
over and settled himself between her legs, bracing on his elbows so he could
see her face. "How did that make you feel then?"

Her expression
led him to believe she was feeling a bit shy about their sex play, but she
seemed game enough. "It surprised me when you tied me up. You did it so
quickly," she said, still awestruck with the thought. "Where'd you
learn to do that?"

He grinned at
her. "Always was a good Boy Scout."

"I'll say.
You earned a badge in knot tying today, little boy," she told him, her
eyes twinkling at him.

"Little
boy?" he countered, pushing her wrists up over her head and holding them
there firmly, then pressed his thickening erection against her hip. "That
feel like a boy to you?"

She giggled and
wiggled against his hold on her wrists. "No, that does not feel anything
close to boyish, I assure you."

He tickled her,
scampering fingers down her ribcage and making her squirm beneath him.

"And that
would be
'no, Sir'
, to you, little girl," he said gruffly, looking
at her from beneath a dauntingly lowered brow.  

She giggle
again, then moaned as his mouth found her nipple and tugged sweetly.

"And does
that feel like a little girl?" she demanded in kind, though her voice was
whispery instead of firm as desire took over again.

"No,
ma'am," he said, raising his head only long enough to answer her smartly.

They made love
again at a much slower pace, lingering over kisses and soft caresses well into
the night, then rose, showered, and ordered a late dinner from room service.
Greg couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed a room service burger so well,
though it probably had more to do with the nearly naked woman dining with him
more than anything else.

Cara rose to
clean up their meal tray, and Greg watched her, stretching out on the bed and
balling up flat hotel pillows until they were comfortable under his head.

"What shall
we do tomorrow?" Cara asked, plugging her cell phone in to charge before
joining him on the bed. She stretched out beside him on her side and rested her
head on her palm. "Beach?"

He considered
for a minute, then shook his head slightly, not altogether opposed, but not
smitten with the idea either.

"Sight-seeing?"
she offered.

He frowned even
more deeply at that thought, but didn't answer.

"Well, what
do you want to do then?" she asked, though she didn't seem particularly
taken with those ideas either.

He rolled over and
pulled her closer, his hand palming her bottom. "I wouldn't mind staying
right here all weekend. I want to love on you and enjoy being with you. None of
that other stuff matters to me at all, babe."

She looked at
him, a tenderness in her eyes that lured him like nothing else, drawing the
last few months of want and unmet need to a finely measured depth of feeling in
him.

"I
know," she said. And he thought she might.

He rolled over
to his back, drawing her to his side and tucking her closely up under his chin.
Her scent, be it shampoo or perfume or whatever it was that made her smell
absolutely edible to him, rustled up off her skin, and he breathed it in
deeply, savoring it, loving having her in his arms, in the bed with him. He
kissed her forehead. "I want to sleep with you ... and I want to wake up
with you." He kissed her eyebrow. "And I want to eat breakfast with
you, and make love to you again and again and again." His hands made long
strokes up and down her back as he spoke. "I want your face to be the
first one I see in the morning and the last one I see at night." He rolled
them over and raised to his elbow to look her square in the eye. "Your
name is the one I want to see when my phone rings." The shape of her eyes
changed, dancing with sweet amusement.

"Your voice
is the one I want to hear whispering my name in need ... crying my name in
release," he told her, his voice barely above a whisper.

By now, he knew
Cara had recognized that this had become more than a plan for the weekend. She
watched him, that deep tenderness in her eyes enhanced by a soft smile on her
beautiful lips. "I want those things, too, Greg."

He studied her
for a long moment, memorizing what she looked like the instant he surrendered
to knowing that he was in love with her, and she studied him back, though he
wasn't certain what was in her mind at the moment, her expression endearing,
but giving nothing more away. Tears gathered in her beautiful eyes, and he
watched as they clung to the ends of spiky eyelashes, trembling before falling
onto her cheeks.

"Why does
that make you cry, Cara?"

She struggled
with her emotions for a moment, and he gave her time.

"I'm crying
because I'm in love with you, Greg Brooks, and there doesn't seem to be a thing
I can do about it," she said, her voice trembling like the tears dangling
from her lashes.

His heart gave a
great rousing kick in the center of his chest, and he pulled her to him and
kissed her, tasting the salty tears in her kiss. Breathless when they pulled
apart, he smiled at her. "I love you, too, Cara."

"Oh,
God," she said, and buried her face into the pillow beside him.