football jock with a letterman jacket—had been lucky to get away with only a few scrapes and bruises, because Creed had sincerely considered killing the little bastard.
As it was, he’d given the jerk a beating he wouldn’t soon forget. Then he’d dragged Maya home, filling her ears with lectures and invectives the whole way.
“That’s why you won’t sleep with Brad McKenzie?” He made a scoffing sound, his mouth twisting into a wry smirk. “He must not be very persuasive. I could have you begging for it in two seconds flat.”
Any intimidation or discomfort Maya might have been feeling flew out the window at his cocky remark. Her brown eyes glittered dangerously and every muscle in her body went rigid. She’d been backed up until her calves hit the edge of the sofa, but now she took a single, confident step forward.
“Oh, really. And just how would you manage that? Twist my arm until I told you what you wanted to hear, whether it was true or not?”
Her words were like gasoline thrown on an already raging brush fire. The low-level desire humming through his system suddenly ratcheted up several notches to full, mind-numbing throttle.
He reached out, taking her by the wrist and tugging her against his chest.
“No,” he breathed. “Like this.”
And then he took her mouth with his.
Two
For a moment Maya froze, so stunned her mind went blank and her body refused to move. But Creed’s lips were firm, his body hot, his arms like steel bands where he held her tight against him.
Her eyes slid closed and her fingers curled into his shoulders, kneading like a kitten. She moaned.
How long had she dreamed of this? Of having him kiss her, hold her, want her.
Forever, that’s how long. Since she and her mother had moved into the Fortune Estate and she’d first been introduced to the brooding, much older young man who towered over and intimidated her. Even as a shy, somewhat awkward girl, she’d known her own heart, and her heart had wanted Creed Fortune.
But she’d never truly believed she could have him. Not when he took every opportunity to make it clear she was nothing but a thorn in his side. An uninvited sibling, forced upon him by an unexpected romance between his father and her mother.
Now, though…now she knew she’d been wrong. He’d done a good job of hiding it, but apparently he shared her feelings and wanted her as much as she’d always wanted him.
His kiss was sweltering, raising her temperature and causing her to break out in beads of perspiration. He worked her mouth as if she was a decadent dessert and he couldn’t get enough.
Tongues tangled, teeth nipped and clashed. She pressed herself close to his tall frame, letting her breasts brush the solid wall of his chest, the insistent bulge of his arousal nudge the space between her legs.
This was better than anything she’d ever experienced. Better than any other kiss she’d shared with any other man. Better even than all the times over the past year that she’d tried to relax enough to make love with Brad, but ended up pulling back at the last minute.
It was better, she knew, because it was Creed. And with him she wasn’t afraid, she wasn’t shy, she wasn’t self-conscious.
With him she didn’t recall his long-ago accusation that she acted like a slut, but instead remembered all the times she’d wanted him, lusted after him, dreamed about him.
And now, finally, she could have him.
Her arms tightened around his neck, her fingers playing in the ends of his short, dark brown hair. She whimpered and wiggled in his hold, striving desperately for something she couldn’t name.
He pulled away, chest heaving, breathing ragged. His blue eyes glittered as he held her gaze.
Muttering a heartfelt curse, he shook his head, then swooped in to take her mouth again.
This time he didn’t settle for just kissing. His hands clasped her waist and swung her around, manipulating her as easily as a tailor’s mannequin. Without breaking the contact of their lips and tongues, he walked her backward through the living room and hall, up the staircase and into her bedroom.
She didn’t stop to wonder how he knew his way through her house or which bedroom was hers; she was simply relieved by his focus and excellent navigational skills. And she clung to him, wrapping her legs around his waist halfway up the stairs to aid his progress.
He carried her into the room and straight to the bed, laying her on top of the covers, rumpled from where she’d thrown them off when he’d woken her with his pounding.
Her nightshirt bunched to her waist, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against the soft skin of her inner thighs. His hands sneaked over her hips and waist, beneath the hem of the shirt, pushing it higher as his fingers moved toward the swells of her breasts.
His lips caressed her chin and jawline, brushing the lobe of her ear before trailing down her throat in a series of nips and licks. When she felt a gentle pressure beneath her arms, she lifted them willingly above her head and let him pull the nightshirt off entirely.
The cool evening air blew across her naked breasts and torso, and she quickly lowered her hands to cover herself.
“Don’t.”
Creed’s fingers circled her wrists like manacles, slowly tugging her hands away to reveal her nudity to his hungry gaze.
“Don’t hide,” he said again, his voice low and strained. “I want to see you, all of you.”
He ran the side of his thumb over the tip of one breast, grinning when it puckered and swelled beneath his ministrations.
She sucked in a breath of air, her back arching into his touch. Her face felt flushed, her entire body a wriggling mass of fever-hot nerve endings, even as she fought not to let her natural tendency toward embarrassment take over.
He had her hands pinned above her head, the rest of her pinned by his weight and bulk. And the look in his eyes was that of a hungry wolf—fierce, predatory, determined.
“Lovely,” he murmured, then swooped in to lick a tight, budded nipple.
She gasped, her fingers clenching into fists above where he held her arms down. He licked the other nipple, just a quick, light swipe, before settling in with more thorough, undivided attention.
His tongue rasped like sandpaper along her sensitive nerve endings. He turned her flesh hot with his mouth, then cool with the soft hush of his breath. After creating a world of sensual devastation at one breast, he moved to the other and did it all over again.
When he lifted his head, he was grinning. “Like I said, lovely.”
His fingers loosened from her wrists, but she didn’t bother attempting to lower her arms. She didn’t have the strength, even if she’d wanted to. She simply lay there like a rag doll, depleted of energy or the will to move.
Still smiling, he skimmed the underside of her arms, the sides of her breasts,
