“Oh my God.” Blair gasped from where she stood on the fringe of the gathering crowd.
He crouched beside her. “Hannah.” She didn’t look at him, just scooted back farther. Afraid or still not wanting him to see her. Either one tore at him and he struggled to push back the worst of his fury. He had to get her out of here before he came apart. “It’s okay, baby. Come on now. Let’s go.”
Without waiting for a response, he scooped her up and started across the room. The guests gave him a wide berth and he figured the dark emotions must be clear on his face.
The limo ride was quiet. Uncomfortably so. The killing rage boiled so hot inside him, he feared what might come spewing out if he opened his mouth. They sat side by side, his arm tight around her shoulders, Hannah’s body stiff against his. It was all he could do to keep the hand around her relaxed while his other fisted on the seat beside him. He needed to say something. Needed to be a different kind of man.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.” She shook her head quickly. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” He nearly exploded at her whispered words. “For not wanting his hands on you?”
“I overreacted.”
He almost laughed at that, seeing as how he’d lost his shit, but it wasn’t funny. “Hannah. Look at me.”
She stared at her lap. “I know you’re angry.”
He turned, took her face in his hands, and waited for her eyes to meet his. “Hell, yes. I’m fucking mad as hell, but not at you.” He brushed back a few fallen strands of hair from her cheek. “Never at you.”
Damn it. He wanted to comfort her even as every cell in his body screamed to hurt someone.
Then she laid a hand on his cheek. She gazed up at him, big amber eyes shining with the passing city lights and…he was lost. Amazed and shaken that she could do that to him, for him, he took her mouth hard, tasted chocolate and Hannah. The blood pumping hot through his veins with fury begin to pulse with something else.
“I don’t want anyone’s hands on you but my own. And I’d rather be here.” He caught her lower lip between his teeth. “Doing this.” Without taking his mouth from hers, he pulled her into his lap.
Then in the dark luxury of the limo, he kissed her like he’d been dying to kiss her all night. Maybe forever. She met him, pressed into him, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Their mouths moved, tongues stroked. Everything about the night, everything boiling inside, came down to this second, this woman.
He wanted to cuddle her and at the same time was so hard he was near combustion. Wanted to reassure her and guard her and run his mouth over every inch of her sinfully sexy body. A man who never lost control, always thinking clearly either of the pleasure he was giving or receiving unless he was too drunk to think about anything. But now, with Hannah, he was stone-cold sober and completely lost.
His fingers tightened on her hip and he rested his forehead against hers. “Good God. What are you doing to me?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered, breathless.
No, he thought, catching his own. She didn’t. She had no fucking idea.
He tightened his hold on her and leaned forward to hit the intercom. “Take the long way.”
“Yes, sir.”
His mouth was on hers again before his driver finished the words. He pulled at the shawl she’d had wrapped around her like a shield and went to work on her neck. Focused on the slide of her smooth skin under his lips, the scent of her, the essence that was Hannah.
With a fingertip, he traced the draping neckline that had teased him since she walked out of the bedroom. His hand shook as he eased it down. His heart followed when he revealed her luscious bare breasts.
“I couldn’t wear a bra with this dress.” She moved to pull it up.
He caught her hand. “I’m not complaining.” And to demonstrate, he rolled one hard nipple between his fingers. A sexy sound vibrated through her when he moved to her other breast, this time using his tongue to tease, his teeth to make her wild. At the same time his hand began a slow journey, beginning at her delicate ankle. He shifted, moved higher, circled her knee, and ran his palm over her inner thigh. “So soft. Why are you so soft?”
Her only answer was a sharp inhale as he brushed two fingers along the damp silk between her legs. He thanked God she didn’t pull away. If anything she shifted closer, and he slipped under the barrier until he found her soft, wet heat.
He’d been with plenty of women, had a longtime girlfriend and fiancée, and still, he couldn’t ever remember being so moved. So consumed. He watched her expression change from surprise to pleasure, watched her head fall back on a sigh telling him he was hitting the mark.
With his arm at her back he pulled her up to feast on each breast. He dampened them with his mouth, then blew lightly. Felt them pebble with chills under his tongue. She shuddered and shifted, arched into his mouth, grinding against his crotch until he almost came.
He pictured laying her out on the seat and burying himself inside her. It would be so easy to rip the scrap of silk aside. He could sate this constant ache, drive home to an explosive release in seconds. But no. Her first time wouldn’t be in the back of a limo. Their first time. Because it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the last.
Street lights danced and soft music he couldn’t focus on mixed with their heavy breathing. He pressed, hit just the right spot. And even as she clenched tight around his fingers, he drove on until she went limp in his arms. Relaxed. Not a hint of tension.