Payback Affairs: Shattered by the CEO. Emilie Rose

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      More fool him.

      She carefully set the towel creature on the shelf before lifting the covers on the far side of the bed and climbing between the sheets. “Bathroom’s all yours.”

      Her comment jarred him into action. He retrieved his shaving kit and the essentials and retreated to the head. After brushing his teeth he donned clean boxers and sat on the closed toilet lid. How long would it take her to fall asleep? He gave her ten additional minutes before snapping off the light and easing open the door.

      She must have gotten up and closed the curtains. He wanted them open, but didn’t want to wake her with the noise. He couldn’t see anything in the pitch-black room, but he could hear Tara’s breathing coming slow, even and deep as he approached the bed. He slid between the sheets and lay stiffly, flat on his back. He folded his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling he could barely make out, dreading the sleepless night ahead. Dreaded lying beside Tara. Wanting her. His sex thickened and ached—a problem any sane man would have handled in the shower.

       No, a sane man would take the sex she offered without second thoughts.

      But Rand knew how skillfully she’d cast her net last time, how easily she’d suckered him into wanting more than a casual fling despite his vow to never marry, have children or let a woman depend on him.

      Tara’s breathing altered. She rolled over and snuggled up to him. One silky smooth leg bent and rested on his thigh. Her hand splayed over his sternum. He ground his teeth until his jaw hurt. And then her hand shifted. Downward. Her burning touch skimmed over his bare skin and came to rest just above his navel. His heart slammed against his ribs. Another half inch and she’d encounter the evidence of his horniness, which even now stretched toward her hand.

      Was she asleep or playing him? He’d bet his Porsche 911 Carrera S Cabriolet it was the latter.

       Why are you denying yourself? She used you last time. It’s time for reimbursement. With interest.

      Good point.

      He wanted her and he’d take what she offered. Forewarned was forearmed, or so the cliché claimed. As for her falling in love with him … Impossible. For that to happen she’d have to be a different kind of woman. One who didn’t profess her love for one man and then screw his father days later.

      Rand covered her hand with his and guided it lower until her palm rested over his engorged flesh. The thin knit of his boxers offered no protection from the scalding heat of her touch and his erection jerked in response. A reflex. Nothing more.

      Tara’s breath hitched. Her fingers twitched, and then tension invaded her lax muscles. Either she’d been asleep and he’d woken her or she was damned good at faking it.

      And with Tara Anthony he couldn’t trust his judgment to know the difference.

      Waking with a handful of Rand was nothing short of a dream or a fantasy.

      Tara tried to focus her rousing brain and figure out what was going on. Her fingers curled around thick, cotton-covered steel. Oh, yes. Definitely Rand. She inhaled a shaky breath and his familiar scent confirmed the identification. His palm covered the back of her hand, anchoring it in place.

      She tipped back her head, but she couldn’t see his features in the inky room. “What—?”

      “It’s just sex,” he rasped in a low, husky voice that made her insides sizzle with sexual excitement.

      “Okay.” For now. She tested his length and his breath hissed.

      He rolled her onto her back. One hair-roughened leg separated hers and pinned her in place. His big, hot hand released hers to stroke from her thigh to beneath her borrowed T-shirt. His palm coasted over her panties, her waist and covered her breast. Sure. Fast. Impatient. He found her nipple like a heat-seeking missile and tweaked it until she squirmed with need.

      “I won’t marry you.”

      She bit her lip. She hadn’t expected winning him back to be easy. But this was a gamble she had to take. A gamble with risks. “I didn’t ask you to.”

      His mouth took hers, his tongue plunged, dueled, stroked. He devoured her as if his control had snapped, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. And that was exactly what she wanted.

      She didn’t know what had brought on this change of heart, but she wasn’t about to argue. She wanted this, wanted Rand. She needed to be consumed by his passion.

      She smoothed her hands down the warm supple skin of his back and over his buttocks. The muscles contracted beneath her caress. She dragged her nails back up his spine in a feather-light scrape the way she knew he liked and savored his shudder. He wouldn’t react to her touch so easily if he didn’t desire her.

      He fisted the hem of the T-shirt and ripped it over her head. She wished she could see his face when he looked at her, but she could only sense his eyes on her when he braced himself on one straight arm above her.

      His fingers curled over her panties and snatched them past her ankles. That same hand skimmed back up her legs and found her wetness with unwavering accuracy. She started at the electrifying jolt of arousal. He bent and took her nipple into his hot mouth.

      His fingers and tongue swirled simultaneously and everything inside her turned liquid, molten. He wasn’t gentle, but she didn’t want him to be. Pleasure blossomed within her, bowing her back and pouring out of her mouth in a low moan. Tara tangled her fingers in his hair and held him to her breast as relentless waves of pleasure pounded her.

      She’d missed this. Missed him. His touch, the hungry tugs of his mouth and the steam of his breath on her skin felt so good. Better than anything or anyone she’d tried and failed to find since he’d left her.

      The snarling knot of need twisted tighter and tighter, but she wasn’t ready to unravel yet, wasn’t ready to have this heady hunger satiated. She wanted to savor the rush of sensations, so she fought off her climax. Fought and failed. Against her will, release snapped through her muscles and whirled through her core, leaving the tickling, tingling sensation in her toes that only Rand could deliver.

      Before she could catch her breath he lifted his head. “Where are the condoms?”

      With her body still quivering, she rolled to her side and opened the drawer, saying a silent prayer of thanks that she’d been optimistic and prepared. Her fingers closed around a plastic packet. She lay back. He’d removed his briefs and his thick erection strained against her thigh for attention.

      Rand took the condom from her, leaving her hands free to map his taut frame as he dealt with the protection. Her senses seemed heightened to his textures, his scent, his heat. She shaped the mounds of his pectorals, thumbed his tiny hard nipples, traced the ridged muscles of his abdomen, his appendix scar, and finally combed her fingers through the tangle of curls at the root of his arousal.

      When she reached lower he swore, grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the pillow beside her head. He shifted until his rock-hard thighs spread hers. His thick shaft nudged her entrance. Eager to receive him, Tara lifted her hips and Rand slid deep in one long, slow thrust. He felt so right buried deep inside her, as if a missing part had finally been found and returned.

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