His to Keep (Beauty and the Brit) Page 17

  Brynn sighed and placed a hand on her stomach. “You must have had Cass checked out pretty thoroughly to know all about her finances. Do you conduct a background search on everyone you do business with?”

  Iain suddenly felt as if he were treading on a frozen lake. One wrong step and he could wind up in frigid waters. “Occasionally. She sounds like a real character, your boss.”

  “She could definitely benefit from a life coach. And a business manager. And possibly a team of mental health professionals.”

  Iain felt a rush of relief. He’d successfully changed the subject. With two fingers, he stroked one of her long, brown waves, sorting through the strands. “What could you benefit from, Brynnie?”

  She leaned her head back against the seat. “A weekend off.”

  Iain propped his forehead against her temple. “Then you should take one.”

  “Not likely. I need to work double time now.” She pulled away to glance up at him. “I think I’m going to have to confront Cass.”

  “That’s why you run, to avoid it.” Not a question. Merely an observation.

  “Ridiculous, right? You’d think after all the seminars I’ve taken, I’d be a pro at conflict resolution.”

  Iain wisely refrained from telling her what he thought of those seminars. Why start the night with an argument? He patted himself on the back for not being a dickhead.

  “So how was your day?” she asked.

  Not productive. He’d been too busy thinking about Brynn and their little tryst. “Fine. You are going to help me with this morale rubbi…idea, aren’t you?”

  “Of course.” Brynn patted his leg. “And good catch. You almost said rubbish, but you stopped yourself. I applaud your restraint.” When she eased herself against him, Iain’s entire body relaxed. She felt good here, cradled against his arm. He continued to stroke the top of her head as she rested it against his shoulder.

  “This is weird.”

  “What, love?”

  “That I’m talking to you this way. I barely know you.”

  “You know enough. My grandparents barely knew each other. Met on a Monday and were hitched five days later.”

  She lifted her head. “Really? What were they like?”

  With a gentle nudge, he eased her back toward him. “Never met them. Mum told me that story. She thought it terribly romantic.”

  “It is romantic.”

  Iain blew out a little laugh. “Granddad probably just wanted into her knickers and the only way to get there was through the vicar.”

  “That’s a very cynical attitude.”

  “I’m a very cynical man, Brynn,” he whispered against her hair. It smelled good, fresh and delicious. Just like the rest of her.

  “I don’t believe that. I think underneath that shell of sarcasm beats the heart of an optimist.”

  Brynn was all fluffy clouds and good intentions. Bless her. Iain’s heart had been hardened by the time he could walk, but he wasn’t about to dissuade her. If she wanted to think the best of him, well and good.

  The car drove along the Strip. As the sun became a low orange ball in the distance, it colored the sky with streaks of purple and pink. Neon lights and moving billboards became brighter, beckoning tourists.

  “Where are we going anyway?” she asked.

  “I’m taking you to bed.”

  Chapter 12

  Her body tensed against him. “I thought you said we were going to dinner.”

  “We’re having dinner at mine.” When her shoulders stiffened slightly, he added, “Brynn, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

  “That’s the problem.” Her voice was so low, he had to strain to hear it. “I want to do everything.”

  “Why is that a problem, pet? We’re two consenting adults.”

  “I’m just a little nervous about, you know, if it will happen again. It may not, Iain. Last night might have been the first and last time I have an orgasm with you. Just promise me, no heroic measures.”

  “I have no bloody clue what that means, but I think I know what will help you. Been putting my massive mind to it most of the afternoon.”

  “What?”

  “Not telling, am I? I’m going to leave you hanging in suspense.”

  Looking away from him, Brynn remained silent, but Iain smiled. Now her brain was working overtime.

  The car stopped at his apartment building along the Boulevard. Iain had bought the place as an investment during the bust a few years back. Now it was worth twice what he’d paid for it.

  Upon exiting the backseat, Iain scooped up her workbag—the one she wouldn’t be opening tonight—and helped her out. Brynn tilted her head back and gazed up.

  “Let me guess, top floor?”

  “Of course.” He guided her in, past the concierge, and through the lobby. Whipping out his key card, Iain waited at the lift and watched her in the polished doors. She was nervous, his Brynn. With her teeth, she worried her upper lip and sucked on it. Her apprehension was thick and tinged with sexual curiosity. He could feel it dancing around her as she shifted from one foot to the other. Occasionally her gaze washed over him. She was worried about wanting him, about his plans. She needn’t have been. Iain had nothing but her pleasure in mind.

  They stepped into the lift and rode upward in silence. Occasionally other occupants came and went. Iain recognized a few faces, nodded, but said nothing.

  By the time they reached their destination, Brynn’s eyes had grown huge and her arms were tightly crossed over her chest.

  When Iain stepped out, Brynn didn’t move.

  He glanced back at her. “It’s going to be all right, yeah?” Slinging her bag onto his shoulder, he held out his hand.

  Brynn looked at it with suspicion, but slowly, she dropped her arms. Then taking one step forward, she reached out. Another step and her fingers brushed his. When she placed her cold palm on top of his hand, Iain felt a little victorious. It was a small step, but an important one. He needed her to trust him. You haven’t earned her trust, mate. Iain had met her under dubious circumstances, but he would strive to win her, be worthy of her. She deserved that and more.

  He unlocked his door, letting Brynn enter first. Stopping at the alarm, he punched in his code as Brynn wandered into the formal sitting room.

  Turning in a circle, her sharp eyes took in the hardwood floor, the ivory walls, the gray-toned artwork. “Why did you come here, anyway?”

  He strode forward. “Describe here. This apartment? Vegas? America?”

  She lowered her eyes from the modern, chrome chandelier down to his face. “Yes.”

  “This apartment was an investment. Vegas is a city that thrives on money, not your background or your lineage—only money. And America—it’s the land of opportunity, yeah?” That wasn’t all of it, of course. Davy was the reason Iain and Marc had come to Vegas, but he didn’t want to talk about that. In fact, he didn’t want to talk at all.

  As he walked toward her, Brynn stumbled backward. “What about your family?”

  Iain froze for a moment. “What about them?”

  “Don’t they miss you?”

  He stalked forward once more. “Doubtful.” Now wasn’t the time to talk about his deceased parents, either.

  “But—”

  “Let me show you the place.” He curved an arm around her waist and led her into the dining room. The view was spectacular. High above the Boulevard, lights blazed in the night sky.

  Brynn glanced around the room. “Very modern.”

  “Mmm.”

  She eyed the dining room table, a long stretch of teakwood and glass, which he’d never used. “Do you host large dinner parties?”

  He peered down at her. “Never. You don’t like it?”

  Brynn’s tongue flicked out, moistening her lips. “It’s very chic.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?”

  Spinning out of his embrace, she glanced up at him. “Your office is traditional—Chesterfield sofas and C
hippendale chairs. But this place is the exact opposite. So which one is you?”

  He shrugged. “Neither. Both. Does it matter?”

  “I’m just trying to figure you out.”

  “You’re not going to do it by examining my furniture, love.”

  Brynn’s eyes drifted over his face. “So how do I get to know the real you?”

  He stepped forward, settling his hands on her hips. “I’ll leave that to you to figure out.” Lowering his head, he dropped a soft kiss on her lips.

  Bringing her hands to his face, she cradled his cheeks and kissed him back.

  Lust, hot and strong, flooded his system. He longed to throw her over his shoulder and drag her off to his bed. His ache for her had been constant since she’d left him standing on the sidewalk that afternoon. He’d been consumed with thoughts of her all day. Yet when her tongue darted out and brushed the tip of his, he held himself back and kissed her tenderly. Iain needed to draw this moment out, make it last. This was their first real time together, so he couldn’t rush it, even though his cock told him otherwise. Brynn Campbell was a wonder he wanted to explore. She made him feel things he’d never thought possible. Affection and desire became intertwined. Though he hadn’t known her long, what he felt for Brynn went deep. He’d never experienced this before, and if Iain were being honest, it alarmed him. Brynn had him wrapped around her finger.

  When she pulled away, Iain’s heart pounded against his rib cage. “Brynn.”

  “Show me the kitchen?”

  The bloody kitchen? “Sure you don’t want to see the bedroom?”

  “Eventually.”

  Removing his hands from her, he took two paces backward. She was killing him. Slowly. Torturously. But for now, he’d let her continue to take the lead. She needed to relax a bit and get comfortable.

  Iain pivoted and walked past a smaller sitting room and on to the kitchen. He flipped the switch and the space flooded with light. Silver pendant fixtures reflected off the black quartz countertop.

  Brynn stepped in behind him. “Wow. You’ve got top-of-the-line everything. Do you ever cook?”

  “No.” He crossed to the refrigerator and opened it. “Are you hungry? I had the food delivered an hour ago.” But Brynn stood in the doorway on the tips of her toes, as if poised for flight.

  “Brynnie,” he said softly.

  That seemed to calm her. She lowered her heels to the floor and took a deep breath. “I’m really nervous.”

  “You had me fooled. Look as cool as a cucumber, you do.”

  That brought a smile to her lips. “Do you at least have dishes?” She crossed the threshold. Her sandaled feet made soft clicks across the tiled floor.

  “Have a look around. I know you’re dying to.”

  “I kind of am. That’s a Viking stove, dude.” She crossed to it and trailed her fingers along the top of it, over the burners, and across the control buttons.

  Iain shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the counter. “I assume that’s a good thing.”

  “If you cook, it is.” She opened the cabinets.

  He had the odd pan or two. Amelia had set it up for him, told him if the apocalypse ever came, he’d be up shit creek because he couldn’t boil water.

  Brynn moved on, opening each sleek black door to see what he was hiding. “How do you live? You have no food, two pans, and”—she opened a drawer—“flatware for four.”

  Iain pointed behind him. “I have a coffeemaker. And if you pay enough, even the best restaurants deliver. Besides, I’m rarely home.”

  “A workaholic, huh?”

  He quirked a brow. “I prefer driven. Working hard is not a disease.”

  “So what do you do when you’re not working?” Brynn hopped up on the island and swung her legs back and forth. The orange-colored skirt was so long, he could only manage to get a glimpse of her toes—varnished peach today.

  Standing in front of her, Iain grasped her ankles and slid his hands under the soft, flowing cotton, up her bare calves. “I watch football, but you knew that.”

  “Soccer?”

  “Football.”

  He gently parted her legs and stepped between the draped fabric. Brynn looked into his eyes and placed her hands on his chest. “Americans play football.”

  “Americans play bastardized rugby.” Keeping one hand on her leg, he used the other to cup her jaw and, with his thumb, traced the line of her wide, lush lips. They parted, so he teased the tip of it inside her mouth, scraping the pad of his thumb across her bottom teeth. Her pupils grew wide as she clutched at his shoulders. While her pulse fluttered at the side of her neck, Brynn’s eyes darkened, and her breathing grew rapid. Nervous or not, she wanted him. That Iain could produce this kind of reaction was positively intoxicating. He gave Brynn pleasure. No one else ever had. And if he had his way, no one else ever would.

  He eased his hand from her mouth and caressed the silky skin of Brynn’s jawline. Although square, it was delicate and feminine, just like the rest of her. He traced the line of her throat, so graceful, so supple. Brynn Campbell captivated him completely. Everything about her, from her voice to her tanned, petite body, to her long fingers fisting his Italian wool waistcoat—it all appealed. No, more than that. Brynn brought him to his knees. Humbled him. Dazzled him. He craved her in a way he didn’t begin to comprehend.

  Iain continued to glide his hand downward and flattened his palm over her chest. He cupped her breast, giving it a light squeeze. Then tugging her leg with his other hand, he pulled her closer to the edge of the counter, closer to him.

  Eyes drifting shut, Brynn wrapped her legs around his waist, anchoring her feet behind his back. His cock throbbed, and he pressed it against the juncture of her legs.

  “Open your eyes.”

  Brynn obeyed him instantly and blinked twice before meeting his gaze.

  “You want this.”

  The heightened desire in her navy eyes had him spellbound. “Yes, I want this, Iain.”

  “You need me to fuck you.”

  She answered with a dip of her chin.

  Taking his time, Iain lowered his head and kissed her. Her lips were lush, yielding beneath his own. He groaned as her hands started roaming over his chest. Then Brynn grabbed onto his arms, digging her short nails into him. He gloried in it. Brynn Campbell may have been timid on the outside, but underneath all the flowing garments and bashful ways was a woman of passion. He could feel it, restrained and caged, ready to be set free again. He wanted to do that for her.

  As he stroked his hand along her back, Iain thrust his tongue against hers. When Brynn boldly met it with her own, it surprised him. Encouraged him. He kissed her harder, and Brynn kissed him back. Iain moved his hand to her breast again. This time when he squeezed, he used a little more force, eliciting a moan from her. That felt like a bleeding triumph, it did.

  He ran his thumbnail over her nipple, and she pulled back slightly. He opened his eyes, noted that hers were still closed.

  “Iain.” She murmured his name like a plea.

  That was all he needed to hear. In a swift move, he removed her hands from his shoulders and worked his fingers beneath the filmy blouse. Tugging it over her head, he nearly ripped it off in his haste to get her naked. With a flick of his fingers, he had her bra unsnapped before whipping the straps down her shoulders.

  When he stepped back, Brynn brought her hands up to cover herself, keeping the ivory lace in place. “No hiding,” he said. Without pause, she dropped her hands and the cups fell from her upturned breasts.

  She was stunning. With careful movements, he peeled it off her, past her elbows, down to her wrists, and over her braided, colorful bracelets. Then Iain let the bra fall to the floor.

  “You’re a beauty, you are.” He placed her hands back on his shoulders as he took her in. Those meringue-pink tits made his mouth water. Iain licked his lips, hungry for another taste.

  “Thank you.” Uneven red streaks colored her neck.

  “Lo
ok at me, pet.” She swallowed but kept her eyes on his Adam’s apple. “I ache for you, Brynnie.”

  With her chin tilted upward, she bit her lip and slowly lifted her gaze. Taking a shaky breath, she looked him in the eye. “Me too.”

  “Unbutton my waistcoat.”

  Brynn twisted her wrists from his grip and began to fumble with the buttons. He didn’t help her, even though impatience had him clenching his hands.

  She slid the garment over his shoulders, and Iain shook his arms a bit until it hit the floor. She reached for his black tie with a look of utter concentration and started loosening the knot. This was taking for-bloody-ever.

  “Brynnie.”

  Her hands stalled and she gazed up at him. “What? Am I doing something wrong?”

  Iain’s heart thawed a little more upon hearing those words, the uncertainty behind them. He sought to reassure her by grasping her hand. “You’re brilliant, love. Just terribly, painstakingly slow.”

  A knowing smile graced her lips. “Oh, you want me to hurry.”

  He kissed her hand. “Yes. Just tear the bloody rags off me.”

  Rather than hasten her actions, she took her own sweet time, exaggerating her movements. Brynn shot him a teasing glance as she worked each button from its hole.

  “Now you’re just being cruel.”

  Bending her head, she placed a kiss in the center of his chest. “I’m heightening your anticipation.”

  “You’re making me mental.” And yet, her strategy was working. Iain was fired up, raring to go. Need bit at him, slicing through him until he was almost shaking with it. He’d never wanted anything the way he wanted Brynn Campbell. Not money, not a business deal. Nothing compared to her.

  Suppressing a restless sigh, he fixed his eyes on her breasts as she freed another button. She was only halfway done. Bloody hell. Still, he let her set the pace, though he did help her along by jerking his shirt free from his trousers. Finally, after she sprang the final button loose, she spread the edges of his shirt wide to reveal his chest.

  “I think you’re gorgeous,” she whispered, her gaze roaming over him. That sweet compliment, shyly uttered, nearly sent him over the edge. Nearly. But Iain managed to hang on to his ragged self-control.