For the Sake of His Heir Page 11

  “Please.” Her voice was ragged as she lifted a hand to reach for him. “Don’t stop.”

  Her touch, just a sweep of her knuckles along his chest, propelled him forward. He joined her on the bed, rolling her to her side, her skin like silk against him. A sigh of satisfaction hissed from between his lips, and he thought he heard a soft moan of pleasure from her at the same moment.

  Finally.

  He sketched a caress down her spine, waiting for his heartbeat to steady. Brianne was having none of it, though. She wriggled closer, raining kisses along his chest. Curving a hand around her hip, he cupped the heat between her thighs. She made a hungry sound, her head falling back on the pillow, her beautiful breasts drawing even with his mouth.

  Unable to resist, he licked his way along the tight peaks and sank his finger deep inside her. She wrapped herself around him, legs and arms, giving herself to him. He took his time, loving the feel of her. Learning the touches she liked best until her hips arched and her breath caught.

  She came apart in his arms in a rush of heat, her whole body shuddering with her completion. He held her, stroking her while her body quaked, then kissed her neck when she quieted.

  * * *

  Brianne waited for her breathing to return to normal. The orgasm was an amazing—and generous—surprise. She hadn’t been expecting it and now she felt a heady pleasure streaking through her veins, making her feel boneless with sensual bliss.

  A bliss Gabe had delivered with ease and—judging by the erection nudging her thighs—considerable pleasure. Seized with the need to give him every bit as much fulfillment in return, she remembered the research she’d done before her first time.

  She felt compelled to apply the teachings now.

  Except he was already palming a condom.

  “Gabe?” She wrapped her hand around his, halting his movement. “I’d love to repay the favor in kind.” She meant it. Her pulse quickened. “I want you to feel as good as I do right now and, as I mentioned, I did study how to—”

  He kissed her until she all but forgot what she’d been about to say.

  “I will enjoy that even more when I have some restraint left.” His words were a warm vibration against her ear. “I can’t hold back much longer, Brianne.”

  A thrill shot through her and she let go of his wrist, ready for whatever he wanted next. She sensed that when he pleased himself he was going to please her, too.

  Still, the thought didn’t prepare her for the feel of him between her thighs. Pressing. Filling. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on, her hips meeting his as he moved inside her. She’d dreamed about him often enough in the years she’d worked for him, but she’d never imagined being with him would be like this. Transporting. So good, her toes curled when she wrapped her legs around his waist to hold him tighter.

  This time, there was no thinking. No research had been needed. Her body knew what it wanted.

  Gabe.

  Everywhere. Skin to skin. Flesh to flesh. Savoring the bristle of his chin, the calluses of his fingers, every nuance of this man.

  She arched up to kiss him and found him staring down at her. His gaze locked on hers. They drew out the moment. Even as they moved together, driving each other higher, he leaned down to take her lips. Kiss her deeply.

  That was when another wave of release hit her. Sweet spasms rocked her, again and again. She clung to Gabe, helpless while the sensations gripped her fiercely. She felt him go rigid moments later, heard his hoarse shout as he found that same completion.

  Sometime afterward, when her heart had finally steadied, Gabe rolled her to his side, tucking her against him. A languid warmth persisted everywhere, her body tender with the newness of so much pleasure. She peeked at him through her lashes and saw him stretched beside her, his hand still curled possessively around her hip.

  A swell of emotion rose in her chest and she tried not to notice it. Maybe she’d been wise to avoid sex since that first time. Maybe, deep down inside, she’d known that she was the kind of woman given to romantic longings and...whatever it was she was feeling for Gabe.

  She couldn’t afford to venture down that road with him, and she knew it. Gabe McNeill married her because they were friends. Because he trusted her not to fall in love with him or take advantage of his generous nature.

  The latter part of that equation was simple, of course. She’d never want to hurt this man. But the sudden crushing weight on her chest told her how difficult it was going to be to keep her feelings on lockdown. Especially when the physical intimacy had the power to lay bare her emotions.

  “Brianne.” He spoke her name against her hair, making her realize he’d been watching her, too.

  Turning her gaze up to meet his, she found a seriousness in his expression. Had he felt the same cataclysmic shift in their relationship that she had?

  “Mmm?” She couldn’t speak past the burn in her throat, afraid she would blurt out something unwise and far too revealing.

  “Are you hungry? I can bring us dinner anytime.” He stroked her hair, following the line of the waves that resulted from air-drying.

  “I’m good for now.” She didn’t want to move. And, heaven help her, she wasn’t ready for him to get up, either.

  Maybe, if they waited long enough, the feelings would subside. All that churned-up emotion would simply settle back down into her being and sink beneath the surface, where she could manage it again. But then he tipped up her face to his, holding her steady while he looked into her eyes.

  She felt herself falling in that blue gaze. Weightless, and with nothing to anchor her.

  When he kissed her this time, the charge between them was still electric, but it was stronger. Deeper. She reached for him hungrily, as if they hadn’t just worn each other out with passion. He skimmed a touch up her hip, over her belly and breasts, and set her on fire again.

  She couldn’t get enough of him. Kissing, licking, tasting, touching. She needed him everywhere and he fulfilled her slightest desire as if they’d been made for one another. He slid into her once more. Slowly. Deliberately.

  Breathless from the sensual heat, she gave herself to him completely. No defenses. It all happened so fast, there was no time to resurrect a single barrier between them.

  When he drove them both over the edge this time, Brianne felt a piece of her heart give way, too.

  Ten

  When Brianne awoke the second time, the savory scent of dinner made her stomach growl. The bed beside her was empty, the sheets tangled around her legs. She checked her phone and it was only ten o’clock Wyoming time. That meant midnight for her body.

  No wonder her stomach was rumbling.

  Slipping on the fluffy white spa robe, she could hear Gabe moving around the kitchen downstairs. Cabinet doors closing. The clink of silverware and dishes. That he’d left her side to prepare them both a meal didn’t surprise her. He’d always been warmhearted. Thoughtful. So she wasn’t foolish enough to think that dinner came as the result of any new tenderness toward her. Running her fingers through her tousled hair, she told herself to keep things light between them.

  And guard the rest of her heart with a whole lot more vigilance.

  She stopped by her bedroom for a pair of socks, then followed her nose through the airy Craftsman home. The walls were natural pine log in every room, but the modern furnishings kept the place contemporary. High ceilings and exposed rafters mingled with stainless-steel fixtures and gray twill seating brightened with punches of red or yellow, depending on the room.

  There were paintings of Wyoming landscapes in all the rooms. She recognized the Devils Tower and Grand Tetons. As she reached the kitchen and the source of all the appealing scents, the paintings gave way to natural wood cabinets and a rounded island set for two, white tapers already burning. Gabe was pulling a broiler pan with two steaks out of the oven.

>   “Perfect timing.” He grinned as he put the pan between the place settings on the island. Dressed in a pair of low-slung sweatpants and no shirt, he made her mouth water even more than the dinner. “The meat looks pretty good considering I had to warm it up a second time.”

  Tossing aside a pot holder, he leaned over to kiss her cheek and pull out one of the padded leather bar stools in front of the gray granite countertop. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the contact, even as she guessed that he was straining to keep things light between them, too.

  “Thank you. I’m so hungry, I might not notice if I was chewing on a rawhide bone.” She lifted her glass to toast the chef. “Cheers to you.”

  He clinked his chilled water to hers. “I’d rather drink to a night I’ll never forget.”

  Surprise nearly made her slosh her beverage over the side. She wasn’t prepared to talk about what had just happened between them when she hadn’t had enough time to pick through the events in her mind. To resurrect those defenses she needed so desperately.

  “Cheers,” she said gamely, not wanting to draw even more attention to her post-wedding-night awkwardness. She gulped the water too fast and then dug in to her meal.

  Gabe didn’t call her on her gracelessness, letting the moment slip past without comment. When she’d sated the worst of her hunger, she searched for a topic to move them back to safer conversational ground, and distract her from how good he looked shirtless.

  “Did you let your grandfather know that you’ve arrived?” As she buttered a slice of crusty warm bread, she realized she’d never complimented him on the meal. “The food is delicious, by the way. I’m so busy scarfing it down I didn’t say as much, but thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” Gabe ate more slowly than her, leaning back in the padded leather bar stool to watch her. “I sent a message to my grandfather when our plane landed. I notified my half brother Quinn, who is staying with him, as well.”

  She frowned. “Wasn’t it Ian who was staying with Malcolm? Ian was the one who called you and let you know your grandfather was staying on in Cheyenne.”

  “True.” Gabe picked up the bottle of red wine that they’d shared in the hot tub. He must have gone outside to retrieve it. He poured them each a glass. “But Ian and his wife were expected in Singapore this week, where the family is involved in a remodel of a flagship McNeill property. Lydia, Ian’s wife, is an interior decorator.”

  The apartment where her grandmother was ensconced belonged to Ian and Lydia, Brianne recalled. It made sense Lydia was a decorator, given how beautiful that space was.

  “Ian and Quinn tag-teamed staying with Malcolm?” Spearing a little more salad, she wished she’d had better relationships with her half siblings. It would have been nice to know someone she trusted was watching over Nana when Brianne wasn’t with her.

  A gust of wind beat against the windowpanes.

  “Correct. Cameron helps out as well. From what I can see, Liam’s other sons are all very close to Malcolm. Much closer to the old man than to our father, Liam.” Frowning, Gabe took a sip of wine as if to wash away the taste of his father’s name. “But that’s something I’ve come to admire about them. Even though Quinn, Ian and Cameron are legally recognized as Liam’s sons, they don’t show Liam any more allegiance than Damon, Jager and I do.”

  Liam wasn’t all that different from her own father. She wondered if Liam’s older brother was a higher quality character. Plus, talking about Gabe’s family meant delaying discussion of where things were headed for them in this new marriage, which was a conversation she still wasn’t ready to have.

  “What about Donovan, Malcolm’s estranged son?” She pushed her plate aside and leaned back in her chair. “Do you know much about him or what kind of person he is?”

  “My grandfather never mentioned him when I met Malcolm briefly last fall.” Gabe finished his wine and started to clear their plates. “I’m hoping to learn more about Donovan when we visit my grandfather tomorrow for dinner.”

  “We?” Brianne hopped up to help even though he tried to wave her off. She rinsed the dishes while he cleaned the countertops. They’d always made a good team when it came to working together.

  “Malcolm is anxious, of course, to meet my wife. He told me as much on the phone.” He moved around her as she stood at the sink, his body brushing hers in a way that made her nerve endings sing.

  He dropped a kiss on her shoulder when he added a plate to her pile of dishes.

  “Of course.” With an effort, she focused on her words and not the contact that made her want to sway toward him. “Securing Malcolm’s favor is the main reason we married.”

  She said it more as a reminder to herself, a piece of reality she couldn’t ignore in her growing romantic feelings for Gabe.

  But the effect on Gabe was tangible. He went still. For a moment, the only sounds in the kitchen were the ticking of a heavy wall clock and the howl of the wind.

  “Gabe?” Turning toward him, she shook the water from her hands and dried them. “What’s wrong?”

  He stared down at his phone screen as he stood motionless at the island.

  “There’s something I didn’t tell you about the wedding.” His jaw flexed as he met her gaze. “About my other reason for needing a wife.”

  She didn’t miss his word choice.

  A wife. Not necessarily Brianne. Just a woman filling the role of legal spouse. A chill came over her, but she resisted the urge to wrap her arms around herself. She wouldn’t show weakness now when she was already so vulnerable.

  “What reason?” She willed strength into her voice even as it leaked out of her limbs.

  He passed her the phone. She glanced down at the screen to see one of the wedding photos. Gabe was holding Jason in his arms and Brianne was clutching her delphiniums and wearing that gorgeous lace dress. At first, she didn’t understand what the photo had to do with anything. But then, she spied the caption.

  Country music queen Theresa Bauder’s ex-husband, Gabe McNeill, takes his revenge on the singer with a quickie marriage to the former couple’s gardener.

  The photo was part of a tabloid story on some online gossip site. It was the private photo taken by a trusted employee of Ian McNeill.

  Passing back the phone without reading the rest of the article, Brianne shook her head.

  “I don’t understand.” She battled the sick feeling in her stomach from being made to look like an afterthought in Gabe’s life. A woman not worthy of being named. “What does this have to do with your other reason for marrying me?”

  When he drew in a breath, giving her a second to shift the puzzle pieces around in her mind, she suddenly understood perfectly.

  “Oh, my God.” Her knees didn’t feel quite steady under her. She reached for the granite counter reflexively. “This is what you intended all along. I’m nothing more than revenge on your ex-wife.”

  * * *

  Regret stung Gabe hard. He’d mishandled things with Brianne, no question. He could see that now. He hadn’t intended to hurt her, and yet he’d put her in the most awkward position imaginable with the media. The caption made her sound like she’d been domestic help for Theresa, when Brianne had been employed solely by his company.

  Worse, he was responsible for that devastated expression on her face right now. And the dawning sense of betrayal in her eyes.

  “No.” Shaking his head, he needed to explain himself. Fast. “I didn’t marry you for any kind of revenge. Far from it.”

  But his new wife was already pacing the kitchen, anger and distrust evident in the quick churning of her feet, the impatient sweep of hair from her eyes.

  “Yet this photograph was taken by a maid personally employed by your half brother’s outrageously wealthy wife. Am I to believe she sold out the McNeills for the sake of a few hundred bucks from a tabloid?” She shook her head. “The McN
eills are notoriously private and they pay their servants well to protect their interests.”

  “Please, Brianne.” He set aside the phone and took a step after her. “Listen.”

  “I should know, right?” She swung around to face him, holding her hands above her head in disbelief. “As one of your employees—your gardener—I signed confidentiality agreements, too.”

  He needed to end this line of argument before she got any more wound up. It was time to set the record straight. “I compensated the maid to distribute the photo to the press.”

  Brianne’s mouth dropped open for a moment before she snapped it shut again. “Without mentioning it to me. Why would you do that if not to get under Theresa’s skin?”

  “I wanted the nuptials to be a matter of public record as quickly as possible.” He ground his teeth. He wasn’t accustomed to justifying himself or his actions to anyone.

  But in a marriage, he understood he needed to make a better effort at that. When he and Theresa had been together, their lives had run on parallel tracks; they hadn’t really connected. If he wanted a better relationship with Brianne, he would have to work on communication.

  And, damn it, he did want a better relationship. He’d thought they were already on their way to having one.

  “It’s a legal union and very much part of the public record even without paparazzi coverage,” she reminded him, folding her arms across her chest.

  In her spa robe with tousled dark hair spilling down her shoulders, she looked more vulnerable than in her day-to-day cargo pants and T-shirts with her hair scraped back in a ponytail. He doubly regretted not discussing this before their wedding night. He couldn’t stand the thought of her believing the worst about him after the incredible things they’d just shared.

  “What I meant to say is that I wanted to make Theresa’s publicity team and attorneys aware of our connection as soon as possible and I knew this would be the fastest approach.” He ventured another step closer. “Can we sit down to talk about this?”

  “I’m not sure what there is to discuss.” Brianne didn’t budge. She simply stared at him from the far end of the formal dining table for twelve cut from a raw hardwood slab. “You used our privately contracted union as a way to get on your ex-wife’s radar. Either you want her attention, or you want to make her regret her loss. I can’t imagine any other reason you’d do this, especially when you purposely didn’t mention the plan to the bride.”