She groaned into his rough kiss, grinding the curve of her sex to his rigid length as she clawed at his chest, his neck, down his back.
Groaning in return, he moved his mouth to her throat and wriggled his hands between her arse and the sofa.
“Suck,” she ordered on a shaky breath. “Please.”
Waves of raw pleasure crashed through him and he drew on the side of her throat with hungry desire. Wild. She was so wild and uninhibited and perfect.
She arched against him, scraping her nails at his back. “Again.”
Fresh pain licked through him, at once pleasurable and addictive.
He sucked harder on her neck, scoring her flesh with his teeth this time.
“Oh God, James.” She rolled her head, presenting him more of her smooth neck. “That’s good.”
He journeyed up to her ear, nipped at her earlobe, and then snagged his fist in the silken strands of her hair and yanked her head to the other side, capturing her throat with his mouth as he did so.
“James…” She raked her hands over his hips. “I want…I want…” Sliding her hand down to his groin, she lowered the zipper of his fly.
His erection sprang free, barely contained by the silk of his boxers.
She slipped her fingers around its trapped length, her moan thick with appreciation. “Impressive.”
Pleasure licked through him, tight and hot. His. She was his. His and no one else’s. No one. No—
“She was mine, brother. Mine.”
Clinton’s words, his hurt snarl. In his head.
Fuck.
Tearing his lips from her, he staggered from her body. Guilt. Christ, guilt lashed at him. Tainted his pleasure. Angered him. He ground his teeth, studying her.
Stop thinking about Clinton. He’s gone. And he never had this. This…what’s happening between Sienna and me…this is real.
“Is there…” Confusion etched her face. And fear? Fuck, had he terrified her? “Did I do something wrong?”
Heart slamming against his chest, he shook his head. “No. I…I did.”
She frowned. “Care to tell me what?”
He’d hurt her. Christ, he hadn’t meant to. Not at all. All he wanted was to give her pleasure. To show her how much he enjoyed being with her, on every level. To show her how much he desired her, wanted her. Instead, the past had reared its tormented fucking head and now…
“No.” How the hell did he explain what he’d planned to do to her?
I can’t.
“But trust me,” he went on, pulse pounding in his ears like a bloody cannon, “the wrong thing I did isn’t this.”
She chewed on her bottom lip, and then nodded. “It doesn’t matter. Not at the moment. I want one thing from you and one thing only.” She leaned toward him and stroked her fingers up the silk-covered length of his erection. “This. Inside me.”
He stared into her eyes. His gut churned. His balls throbbed.
Something he couldn’t decipher flickered in her eyes, and then she drew in a soft breath.
“Please?”
The uncertain request undid him.
He was a slave to her. Had been the moment he’d arrived at her home and she’d answered the door not knowing it was him. Had been the moment he saw her with her own brother, her tender care…her honest heart…
“For you, Si.” He destroyed the minute distance between them and balled his fist in her hair. “Anything.”
A smile curled her lips and she sighed. “Hell, yeah.”
…
She disconnected her heart from the moment and relinquished control of her body.
The second his tongue swept over hers, she surrendered to the pleasure he wrought on her as well.
She worked his rigid length through his boxers, kissing him with a hunger to match his as he tore at his clothes. His tie fell to the floor beside her feet, followed by his belt and trousers and tuxedo jacket. All without breaking their kiss.
There wasn’t a hope in hell she was walking away from their encounter with her heart intact—she was who she was, and he was James Dyson, after all—but for this night, this night, she was willing to sacrifice her sanity, her future pride, in the tsunami of raw pleasure he gave her. This night…
“Christ,” he growled against her lips, fighting with his shirt. “These goddamn buttons.”