by Lora Leigh
She was beginning to wonder, though, if bored wouldn't be better.
Image
Cam slammed the door to his office with a vicious flick of his wrist and grinded his teeth in fury.
Five minutes. She had been out of his sight five fucking minutes, and what had happened? There was that bastard Khalid, his hands on her, his lips on her.
His fists clenched, the need to punch something nearly overriding his self-control. The need to punch that half-Middle-Eastern son of a bitch touching his woman was what crazed him.
"You hit the wall again, and Ian's going to make us pay for the repairs ourselves," Chase warned him as Cam felt his fingers curling into a fist.
He'd already put a hole in the wall once this year. The day after the final report on Jaci was compiled, and he'd had time to think about it, time to let the fury stew inside him.
"Get out of here, Chase." He could not deal with his twin's amused condescension today. He'd end up hitting Chase, and the problem with Chase was that he invariably hit back. They hadn't had a brawl in years, and his ribs were thanking him for it.
"Come on, Cam, she's a beautiful, vibrant woman. Every man she meets is going to wonder if she's as hot in bed as she looks, and a few are going to try to find out. Nothin' you can do about it."
His fingers curled into a fist again. Fury pumped in him; he was hot, blistering with jealousy. He had never been jealous over another woman. He had never ached to punch any man that dared to so much as look at anyone but Jaci.
She had no idea how possessive he was over her. She had no clue how the thought of her with other men had tortured him over the years. And God forbid he should ever meet up with an old lover, because Cam wasn't certain if he could hold onto his control if he did.
"Come on, Cam, Khalid's flirty with all the women, you know that. The son of a bitch lives and breathes his playboy lifestyle just to piss his daddy off. You can't take him seriously."
"He touches her again, and I'll take his hand off," he snarled, whirling around to face the amusement in his brother's eyes.
But he didn't see amusement. He saw the same darkness in his brother that rode his own soul. They were like mirror images of each other in so many ways.
"God, this is a mess," he bit out, turning away again.
Why do you do it, Cam? A man as possessive as you would never share your lover without a reason.
Jaci's question ripped through his mind with the force of a dull blade, tearing at his conscience. And still, he hadn't been able to explain. He hadn't been able to put into words that overwhelming, dark need that continually drove him and his brother.
The men of the Sinclair men's club all had varied reasons why they shared. Some for pleasure, some for excitement, some for protection of themselves or others. Some simply because they enjoyed it.
For Cam and Chase, why they shared was mired in so many different, impossible reasons. The bond of twins, of knowing each other's strengths, each other's weaknesses; of understanding the pleasure they could give—and the pleasure they received from it.
They could take women to places together that they couldn't take them alone. Give them a pleasure that drove them to the point where they couldn't find the breath to scream, and could only beg for more.
Cam could hold back, glory in the power of the pleasure they drew from a woman. Watch her eyes glaze over, feel more than his own pleasure. He could feel her pleasure. And he could maintain his distance, he could maintain his control and the ability to hold back the pain. And the nightmares.
And he wanted that pleasure for Jaci, often. He wanted her dazed, wet, and shaking between them, twisting in the midst of a hunger so intense she didn't know who she was, or where she was, only that she needed more. Just as she had the other night. The addictive need to have her like that again was growing, building in his gut, until he wondered how long he could maintain his control.
He needed to give her that. It crawled beneath his flesh, drove talons of agonizing arousal through his testicles, and made his cock harder than it had ever been in his life.
"You're going to have to explain things to her," Chase said behind him. "You won't hold her heart if you don't give her yours in return, man."
He shook his head. "How do you explain the impossible, Chase? Hell, sometimes even I can't explain it to myself."
He took his lovers alone often. He didn't require Chase's presence all the time, but sometimes, sometimes the darkness of the sexual needs inside him demanded it. As though there were a core inside himself, livid with a hunger, a need that became sated only in certain ways. And with Jaci, he didn't dare take her alone. There would be no chance of maintaining even a semblance of distance from her otherwise.
"It would help her understand," Chase said. "You can't hide from her and expect her to give you everything. Hell, it's bad enough that you hide from me."
"Explaining it wouldn't help." He clenched his hands, fought to work through the surging fury. "It's like a drug now. You know it as well as I do. Seeing the pleasure, feeling it." He shook his head at the hopelessness of it.
"So, you're going to lose her to the likes of Khalid instead?" Chase drawled. "Smart, Cam."
"I'll talk to Khalid." He breathed in roughly. "He'll stay away from her."
He was aware of the disbelief in Chase's expression. "Are we talking about the same Khalid?" his brother asked. "The same one undressing her with his eyes in the hallway, Cam?"
"Don't push this, Chase," he growled.
Chase held his hands up placatingly. "Fine. I'm out of it. Just consider the I-told-you-sos said when you find out he's moved in for the kill."
"She's too smart to fall for him." Cam shook his head. He had to believe that.
"She's alone," Chase said then, his voice soft, warning. "Remember that, Cam. She's alone and losing the same man for the second time for the same reason. She's been alone for a very long time now. She's not going to stay alone."
No, and she had every right not to have to be alone.
Cam shook his head, fighting his desires, fighting himself. She deserved the love she thought so highly of. Monogamous, possessive, pure love. She didn't deserve the exact opposite of the ideal that she prized so highly.
"You know, Cam, I'm not in love with her," Chase said then. "I won't love her, not like you do."
Cam rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling a relief so intense it was almost weakness. He could share her body with Chase, but the thought of sharing her emotions, her heart, the tender touches and the smoky looks . . .
"Cam, is it worth losing her?"
He paced across the room, his hand dropping from his neck as he moved to the window and stared into the bright morning sunlight.
Seven years. He'd waited, fantasized. He'd dreamt of her.
"I'll figure something out." And he would. Right now, he was allowing them both the distance they needed, but it wouldn't last much longer.
"Evidently, you warned her to run when she saw either of us coming," Chase said. "Why do that? Why not show her the man you are, rather than demanding she give into you without understanding what makes you like that? Damn, bro, you expect a lot from a woman, don't you?"
"From her?" he whispered, watching through the tall windows as Courtney and Jaci moved into the gardens between the two wings of the house. "From her, I expect it all. And I think that terrifies both of us."
9
Cam found her in the garden an hour later, a frown on her face as she sketched on the electronic pad she used for drawing and notes. She nibbled absently on her lip, and it made his lips tingle at the thought of having her little teeth nip at him.
He stood and watched her for long moments, aware of the growing hunger building inside him. Pretty soon, it wasn't going to matter if Chase was around or not, he was going to take her every chance he had.
He was burning for her. That addiction thing again. Hell if he knew how to break this addiction, though.
He didn't want to break it.
"Got a minute?"
"Probably." She tapped a few commands on the pad, and he watched it darken and shut down, then she tucked it into the carrier bag she wore on her shoulder.
"Come up to the office." He held his hand out to her in invitation. "You can see the equipment we have there, and help me decide which room to try to convince Ian we need for a new office."
"You need a new office?" Jaci took his hand and let him draw her along the stone path.
"Bigger office, anyway." He smiled down at her. The hell if he cared if he had another office. He needed some time with her. He needed to smell the scent of her, feel her warmth, and he needed to do it without distractions. The office was his only chance, unless he wanted to slip into her hotel room again.
He wanted her until his back teeth ached with it. But he was finding he wanted more than just the sex with her. He wanted to laugh with her. He wanted to talk with her. He wanted her in his life and in his home, because he was damned if he was satisfied with the arrangement as it was.
She was continually running from him, and he'd had enough of it.
"So Ian doesn't want you to have a bigger office?" There was a hint of knowing heat in her voice, remnants of her earlier wariness.
"I doubt he really gives a damn." He felt like smiling. "I just want an excuse to spend some time with you."
He glanced at her, and saw the almost-shy surprise in her expression as she looked up at him. That look had his cock hardening to the point of pain.
"You didn't need an excuse." She cleared her throat as they entered the house, and headed through the back hall toward the offices. "All you had to do was let me know."
"You keep running, Jaci," he said softly.
"You told me to run." Her voice was reflective now. "What's the point in running, Cam? I never could stay away from you."
He pulled her into his office, slammed the door behind them, locked it, and pushed her against the wall.
His hands framed her face, as though her admission had broken some thread of control holding him back and his lips slammed down on hers.
He drew back at the last second, softened the possession in the kiss, and groaned at the heated welcome of her lips. Wanton. That was what she was. Her tongue met his, and her hands were pulling at his shirt, dragging it out of his jeans to allow her nails to rasp against the mat of hair that grew over his chest.
"You're killing me," he groaned against her lips. "I'm dying for you, Jaci."
His hands were pulling at her skirt. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to feel the sweet warmth between her thighs, slick and wet, beckoning him.
"You wanted to talk." She was panting. She was sweet and hot, and he could feel the need in her body, just as clearly as he heard it in her voice.
"I am talking." He was nipping at her lips, loving the feel of them.
"You are?"
"I'm telling you how hot you are." His lips slid to her neck and he didn't even pause to wonder why the hell he was talking. "Telling you how badly I want to spank you."
"There you go, threats again." She moaned, a rich, soft sound that had his dick jerking in anticipation.
"A promise." The thought of spanking her. God, his hand itched to feel the softly rounded globes of her ass beneath his hand as he laid the heavy caresses against her flesh. Watching them blush, feeling her burn.
And she would burn. The pleasure-pain of him and Chase both taking her the other night had driven her crazy for more. Her eyes had been wild for it, her voice aching with the hunger for it. And when he had plunged into the ultra-tight, heated grip of her pussy, he had nearly come with her.
He nipped at her lips again, then stroked them with his tongue, as she lifted herself against him, trying to capture his lips for the kiss he knew they both needed. As he teased the lush curves of her lips he slid his hands over her ass, pushing her skirt higher to reach the delicate globes.
He moaned at the feel of bare skin. She wore a thong, and he knew that that scrap of material did nothing to hide the sight of her silken flesh.
Lifting his head, he breathed in roughly, squeezed her ass, and fought to hold on. He couldn't take her here, couldn't take her alone. Not yet. Not until he got a handle on these damned emotions threatening to break free.
Where the fuck was Chase when a person needed him?
"Cam . . ." Jaci's voice was hungry now, her eyes brightening, growing hot with need. "What are you waiting for?"
She pulled at the buttons on his shirt, managing not to rip them from their moorings, but slipping them from their holes quickly, carefully. Her lips were against his neck, hot, demanding.
There had to be a way—a way to take her alone, to slide into the silken grip of her pussy and find the pleasure that awaited him there.
"Damn, you burn me alive." He lowered his head and let his tongue taste her collarbone, as he relished the feel of her butt in his hands.
"That's good." She moaned. "You burn me, too."
He clenched his teeth as he fought to hold back now. He was not going to take her against the wall.
"Come here." Before she could protest, he swung her up in his arms and carried her to the couch across the room.
The office was large, with his and Chase's work centers separated by a seating and meeting center in the middle. And that was where he took her. With his lips buried against hers, his tongue stroking, licking, twining around hers, he sat back on the couch before lifting his head.
"Come here." He lifted her until her back was to him, then, with his hand against her back, he pushed her shoulders to the cushions.
"What are you doing?" There was a hint of something in her voice now—uncertainty, and a hesitant fear of the unknown.
"I told you I was going to spank you." He grinned as she tried to raise from the couch. "Stay still, sweetheart. I promise it will hurt so good."
"Hurt so good? Are you crazy?" There was a hint of laughter now. He liked that laughter in her voice, that bit of playfulness that indicated her sense of adventure.
But he'd be damned if he could answer her. She was on her knees before him as he knelt behind her, the creamy cheeks of her ass displayed by the bunched material of her dark skirt. And it was a fine ass.
He ran his hand over the curves, grimacing with the need to feel her locked around his cock, milking him, pulling him inside her.
"I didn't wear a condom last time," he told her, his voice roughening.
She didn't stiffen, but she stilled. "I knew that. Good thing I'm protected." There was the lightest snap in her voice.
"I knew you were protected." He lowered his head and laid his lips at the small of her back, feeling the little shudder that moved through her. "Medical records were part of the investigation. You use it for menstrual regulation."
He was taunting her with his knowledge of her. Needing answers.
"Invasion of privacy." She jerked as he cupped the heated flesh between her thighs with his hand.
She would get pissed later, he guessed, but for now . . . for now, the effect she had on him was the same for her. She needed the pleasure. Ached for it.
"You aren't concerned about anything but birth control?" He nipped at the rounded cheek of her ass as he massaged the silken folds of her pussy with his palm.
"With you?" She moaned as he found her swollen clit and rubbed it slowly. "God, Cam, don't you think I know you would never do anything to risk hurting me?"
Now, Cam stilled. His eyes focused on the little scrap of material that bisected her rear, but something in his chest exploded out of control.
Trust. He heard it in her voice, felt it now in her body, just as he had felt it the other night. She trusted him—even now, seven years later—to protect her.
He smoothed his hand over her rear, taking in her position, her rear slightly raised, her head turned to where he could see her profile. Her face was damp with perspi
ration, her eyes closed, her expression twisted with pleasure, as he continued to rub against the silken vee of her thong.
He lifted his hand and lowered it against her ass. The heavy caress had her jerking, her head attempting to lift.
"Don't move." He pressed his hand between her shoulder blades, holding her down, pressing her to the couch.
"God, Cam." Her voice was more moan than protest, as his hand landed again and he watched the creamy flesh blush.
It was beautiful. She was beautiful, lifting to him, her legs spreading farther, her clothing in disarray.
"I'm going to make you burn, baby," he promised her, shifting, arranging her legs until they rested between his thighs while he knelt behind her.
He braced his foot on the floor, his knee on the other side of her legs, and lifted her hips farther, before delivering another heated caress.
It wasn't really a slap. Rather, it was a series of heated caresses against tender flesh, over and over, warming her skin, awakening nerve endings and sensitizing them to a point that pleasure and pain combined and turned to ecstasy.
With each caress his own arousal grew. He could feel her twisting against the hand cupping her pussy, grinding her clit against his palm, the vee of her thong dampening.
He wanted to watch her eyes, but he didn't dare. Not like this, not alone. He could not stare into her soul without the buffer of a third person to ground him, to distance himself from giving her his own soul.
No matter how much he needed to. There were too many secrets. Too much darkness inside him.
"Let go, Jaci," he crooned, leaning down to caress the blushing flesh with his lips, to lick over it with the warmth of his tongue. "Relax for me."
"Relax?" She was panting, pushing against his hand, her juices saturating the thong crotch. "You're killing me, and you want me to relax?"
"But it feels good." He grinned, knowing she was loving it. Jaci was adventurous. She was greedy for the wicked loving, no matter how much she might deny it.
"It doesn't feel good," she said, moaning.