He’d almost lost it, again.
He released his death grip on the sink and glanced at the pounding erection confined in his pants, which had been so hard for so long it was starting to hurt. And had his answer.
He adjusted his pants to ease the ache. Something about Iona had really got to him.
Her honesty, her openness and the ease with which he could read every single expression on her face, made her more vulnerable than any other woman he’d ever seduced. And when you added what she’d revealed about her run-in with Demarest, he felt responsible for her in a way he never had before in a relationship. The guy had taken her virginity and given her nothing in return. Less than nothing.
But instead of her inexperience putting him off, which by rights it should have, it only made her live-wire response to the simplest of caresses seem that much more irresistible—bringing out the hunger he’d thought he’d satisfied years ago.
Tonight, he’d been less in control of himself than he’d been since he was a teenager, banging pretty much anyone who offered, and as a result he’d almost blown the stringent rules he’d imposed on his sexual appetite ever since.
When she’d come apart in his arms, the soft sobs of her surrender spurring his own arousal to fever pitch, and then held him through his pants, her face flushed with arousal, for one brief agonizing moment he’d almost snapped, consumed by the need to thrust deep inside her.
Thank God that burning need had only lasted a split second, and he’d come to his senses in time. But it had still been deeply disturbing. His control had almost shattered—giving him a connection he didn’t want to contemplate to the man who had fathered him.
How could he be entirely free of that legacy, and even for a second have considered taking a woman without due care and attention? Without even the proper protection? Simply to satisfy his own lust?
He took two deep breaths, let them out as steadily as he could.
Don’t overreact.
He rolled his shoulders, pulled on the mirror to check the bathroom cabinet and spotted the box of condoms, still wrapped in cellophane, on the top shelf.
His breathing slowed as the insistent ache subsided a little.
The thing to remember was, he hadn’t snapped—he’d held it together. And he’d apologised to Iona. From her sweet, funny reaction it was clear she hadn’t had a clue how close he’d come to losing it. Which was great, because now he had the chance to make it up to her—to finish what they’d started and do it right. The way he’d promised her he would.
He lifted the box off the shelf, ripped the seal.
Only three! Who the hell buys condoms in boxes of three? That’s not even enough for…
He clamped down on the thought, let out another calming breath.
Hold it together.
Three was good. Three was enough. Three was more than enough for them to take the edge off their hunger and have a good time, before they went their separate ways.
He closed the cabinet, dumped the box in the trash and stuffed the condoms in his back pocket before splashing some water on his face, determined to be grateful for the three condoms if it killed him.
But as he walked into Iona’s bedroom, and she smiled at him, the sheet stretched across her breasts, her dress and panties by her bra on the floor and her face flushed with anticipation, the hunger coiled hard, taunting him.
‘Did you find them?’ she asked, the eagerness in her voice making the erection pound.
He slung the condoms on the bed. ‘I told you, I’m a trained detective.’
He eased the zip down on his pants and her gaze followed the movement. He shoved his pants and boxers off, and her upper lip curled into her full bottom lip, her gaze now riveted to his groin.
‘That’s impressive,’ she whispered, the Scottish burr low with fascination.
He tore open the first foil package as his erection hit critical mass—and admitted there was no freaking way three condoms was ever going to be enough.
Goodness.
Iona studied the long thick erection jutting out proudly from the dark hair at Zane’s groin as he rolled on the condom with practised efficiency. Heat swelled in her abdomen, her heartbeat ricocheted into her throat and her breathing sped up.
She let her gaze drift back up his body, past the ropes of muscle that defined the V above his hip bones and up the thin trail of hair that bisected the flat ridges of his six-pack and then bloomed around his pecs.
She reached his face at last, her heart pounding so hard now it was practically choking her. ‘You’re gorgeous all over.’