The Ashtons: Walker, Ford & Mercedes: Betrayed Birthright / Mistaken for a Mistress / Condition of Marriage. Sheri WhiteFeather

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      “Your sister is amazing,” she said. “Sweet, bright, beautiful. I really like her.”

      “She appeared to like you, too.”

      “Alexandre is amazing, as well.”

      “Really? You think so?”

      “Oh, yes. He’s gorgeous. So—” she stalled when Walker raised his eyebrows at her “—attentive to Charlotte.”

      Envy nipped at his heels, but he let it go. He knew Alexandre was one of those guys women noticed. All those fancy French words. Even his mom had swooned a little. “He loves my sister.”

      “I can tell.” She toyed with her spoon. “It was weird…what Mary, Charlotte and Alexandre said about us.”

      “Yeah, weird.” He shifted his gaze. “They think we’re good for each other.”

      When silence pulled like taffy between them, he stirred his dessert again. He hated these magnified moments. He wasn’t good at easing the tension.

      But she got past it quick enough.

      “Does anyone ever stay in this room?” she asked.

      “No. I never invite guests here.”

      “Then why do you have an extra bed?”

      “I don’t know. To fill up space, I guess.”

      She took her first bite of the chocolate ice cream. “What about your bedroom?”

      He nearly cursed beneath his breath. Silence had been safer than the conversation she’d hatched. “No one stays there, either.”

      “I am,” she said.

      “Yes, but you’re—” he paused, afraid he would say something too revealing “—different.”

      “Different?” she parroted.

      Crafty girl, he thought. Prodding him to spill his guts. “I already told you that you’re the most compatible lover I’ve ever had. I wanted to take advantage of that.”

      She sucked on her spoon, and he wondered if she was trying to seduce him. If she was, her ploy was working. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her mouth.

      He dropped his gaze and noticed her nipples through her T-shirt. “Are you cold, Tamra?”

      She almost smiled. “I’m eating ice cream.”

      “Want to christen the bed?”

      She gave him an innocent look, then shook her head and laughed. “You’re easy, Walker.”

      So she had been playing a game.

      He left the desk, came closer, took away her bowl and nudged her down. “You drive me crazy.” He unzipped his jeans and slipped her hand inside. “More than crazy.”

      She closed her fingers around him, and they kissed, deep and wet and slow. She tasted like chocolate, and the flavor, the sweetness, aroused him even more.

      They dragged off each other’s clothes, tossing articles onto the floor, leaving cotton and denim in their wake.

      She lowered her head, then used her mouth between his legs. He tugged his hands through her hair and felt his blood soar. Oh, yeah, he thought. She drove him crazy.

      She paused, looked up at him and made his world spin.

      Mind-blowing foreplay. Sexual surrender. He wanted it all. And he wanted it with her.

      He lifted her up and kissed her, tongue to tongue, flesh to flesh. He needed to get her out of his system, to drink her in, to drain her of every last drop.

      Desperate, he guzzled her like the wine he’d been reared on, getting drunk, forcing the intoxication through his veins.

      But he wanted to make her drunk, too, so he went down on her, giving her the oral pleasure she’d given him.

      She arched, rubbed against him and fisted the quilt.

      He kept doing it, teasing her, urging her to completion.

      When she stopped shuddering, he rose above her. And with one powerful thrust, he entered her. She gasped, and he went deeper, submerging himself in wetness, in warmth, in everything he craved.

      Sunlight spilled into the room, making summer hues dance across the bed. They clasped hands, their fingers locking.

      A bond. A connection. A feral need.

      Walker wasn’t about to let go.

      And neither was she. She wrapped her legs around him, holding him hostage, keeping him unbearably close.

      Every cell in his body screamed for a release, but he wanted to make it last. To keep making love to her. Yet he couldn’t.

      Heaven help him. He couldn’t.

      Her lotion rose like a mist, filling his nostrils. The scent of seduction. Of heat, he thought. Of a life-altering orgasm.

      He looked into her eyes, then let himself fall.

      Hard and fast.

      As hard and fast as a man could endure.

      Nine

      Walker’s condominium in San Francisco was in the same upscale district as Edward’s. Yet Tamra hadn’t realized it before now. But why would she? She’d only seen Walker’s driver’s license once, on the first day they’d met, and she hadn’t paid attention to his address, to the zip code that would have revealed the location.

      “What’s wrong?” he asked, as they stood on his deck, overlooking a view of the city.

      “Nothing. Your home is beautiful.”

      “Come on, Tamra. I can tell something is bothering you. You’re acting strange.”

      She took a deep breath, then shifted to look at him. They’d arrived about ten minutes ago and he’d given her the grand tour: spacious rooms, ultramodern furniture, a hot tub. Luxurious, bachelor-style living, she thought. “Edward lives about six blocks from here.”

      “Jade’s father? The sperm donor?” Walker frowned, his dark eyes turning even darker. “Are you going to be thinking about him the whole time you’re here with me?”

      “Of course not. It’s just a coincidence. It doesn’t mean anything.”

      “The hell it doesn’t.” He turned away and scowled at the city. “Edward still upsets you. He still matters.”

      “Losing my baby still matters. And this was a shock, that’s all. I hadn’t expected СКАЧАТЬ