The Hudsons: Max, Bella and Devlin: Bargained Into Her Boss's Bed / Scene 3 / Propositioned Into a Foreign Affair / Scene 4 / Seduced Into a Paper Marriage

Dana wanted him.

The knowledge rocked him, shocked him. When and how had that happened? Before she’d returned his kiss, he couldn’t remember her ever giving him those kinds of signals. In fact, if anything, she’d mothered him, pampered him. Spoiled him, he admitted.

He reached past her to slide open the door. Cooled air rushed out of the house and over his skin, but did nothing to cool his desire. Once they’d crossed the threshold—literally, figuratively—there would be no going back. His feet sank into the carpet. He closed the door behind him, sealing them into the silent house.

The room smelled like her, looked like her. The other her. This woman he didn’t know. She’d added candles and framed photographs of her family and potted plants to the room.

Who was this other woman? he asked himself not for the first time.

He caught her face in his hands and stroked her smooth skin and then threaded his fingers through her thick, silky hair. Her head tilted back, but he ignored the silent invitation. He caressed her neck, her shoulders, her arms, and then he transferred his hands to her hips and drew circles over her hipbones with his thumbs. She shivered and gasped. The sound hit him low and hard.

Easing his hands upward, he outlined her narrow waist and the bottom edge of her rib cage, savoring her warm, satiny skin. Her lids fluttered closed. He bent to kiss one, then the other. Her thick lashes tickled his chin, and her back arched, pressing her pelvis into his. Need stabbed him. He sucked a sharp breath through his gritted teeth.

Dipping his head, he sipped from the shadowy warmth beneath her ear. She angled her head to give him better access. This time he didn’t refuse. The hot press of her hands at his waist jolted him. The unhurried caress of her soft hands up and down his sides urged him to rush, to push her onto her bed and bury himself inside her. He wanted her hard and fast. For that reason he kept a tightfisted grip on his control.

Mindless passion was for college kids. Smart passion, delayed satisfaction brought greater rewards. And purpose. He reminded himself he was doing this for a reason, but that reason was a little hazy when she tasted so good on his lips and on his tongue.

Nuzzling the fragrant spot behind her earlobe made her shudder in his arms. Her nails raked his back and ripped an unexpected groan from deep in his chest. He drew back, putting space between him and fighting the temptation to say to hell with slow and easy.

He traced the V-neck of her top with one finger, his eyes focusing on the nipples beading beneath the thin fabric. He wanted those tight buds in his mouth, needed to roll them around on his tongue and taste her. Instead he circled the band of black around her ribcage and drew a line down the center of her belly. He repeated the circle around her navel and then the top of her bikini bottom.

She shifted impatiently, her smooth, warm thighs sliding against each other. “Max.”

The half cry, half whimper got to him. He’d bet his Lamborghini she’d sound like that when he slid inside her the first time. And that couldn’t happen soon enough. His patience evaporated. He reached for the knot at her nape and fumbled it free. The ties dropped and the fabric slid downward with excruciating slowness before finally baring her breasts. He swallowed hard at the sight of the dusky centers.

Dana reached one arm behind her back and loosened the other tie. The top floated to the floor. He flexed his fingers in anticipation and then cupped her warm, soft flesh in his palms and buffed her nipples with his thumbs. Her breath hitched. She bit her lip. He bent his head and took a puckered tip into his mouth.

Her taste was like nothing he’d experienced before. He savored her unique flavor and her scent filled his nostrils. Her fingers threaded through his hair, holding him close as she arched into him, her free breast branding his bicep. But he wasn’t trying to escape. Not until he’d had his fill of her and cured this damned sudden and irrational obsession that had hit him like a bad case of the flu.

He shifted his mouth to the neglected soft globe and used the moisture he’d left behind to lubricate his massaging fingers on the first. Dana’s fingers tightened, her nails scraping an arousing pattern on his scalp. He wanted more.

“Mmm. That feels good,” she whispered brokenly.

Planting one knee on the floor, he hooked her bikini bottom with his thumbs and yanked it down her legs. She gripped his shoulders as she stepped out of her swimsuit, her touch hot and firm on his skin. He wanted her hands all over him, the sooner, the better.

Letting her nipple slide from his mouth, he looked up at her, at her red lips and heavy-lidded eyes, at the curve of her damp nipples, her small waist. But it was the tiny cluster of dark curls that beckoned him. He needed to taste her. Her golden skin, her sweet center, the essence of her arousal. But not yet. Not when his hunger was sharp enough to cut him.

He pressed a kiss to her breastbone, laved his way down her belly, toward the golden heart. He circled the jewelry with his tongue and she hiccupped a series of short fast breaths. As he strung kisses along her bikini line he used his hands to caress from her hips down the outside of her legs to her feet.

He curled his fingers around her ankles, grasped the delicate joints and urged her legs apart, widening her stance for balance because he intended to rock her world.

“Max?” she breathed.

He worked his hands upward on the insides of her legs this time, his palms coasting over warm, smooth soft skin. She was so damned touchable. The scent of her excitement grew stronger as he neared his target and his own desire pounded through his veins, urgent and unrelenting. He forced himself to take it slow when what he wanted to do was shoot to his feet and bury himself deep inside her with a single thrust.

He reached the back of her knees. She shivered at the scrape of his fingernails along the sensitive crease. He did it again with the same results. She clutched his hair and then released, clutched and released. Her short nails lightly outlined his ears, sending stimulating ripples cresting through him.

He finally reached her thighs and massaged their sleekly muscled length, working his way from her tensed quadriceps and hamstrings to her softer, warmer inner thighs. He traced her panty line with his thumbnails and her knees quaked. Encouraged, he leaned forward and traced the same path with his tongue, simultaneously finding her center with his fingers. She was hot, wet and ready for him. Her hands cupped his head holding him close.

Her fragrance filled his lungs and surged straight to his groin. The selfish urge to flip her on her back on the bed and ride her hard crossed his mind. Instead, he replaced his fingers with his tongue and laved the swollen flesh waiting for him, circling it, tasting it, exploring it until he found the spot that made her cry out and curl her toes into the carpet.

Her taste filled him with a desperate, ravenous hunger for more. More. More. His pulse hammered in his head, almost drowning out the sexy-as-hell sounds coming from Dana’s mouth.

“It’s too much. I can’t.” Her nails dug into his scalp. She tried to pull away.

He clamped his hands on her buttocks and intensified his oral caress. Her legs shook. She tasted so damned good, smelled so good, felt so good. He sucked her into his mouth and pumped his fingers deep inside her. Even without her moan to clue him in, he registered the exact second she quit fighting and went over the edge. Her cries filled the air and her internal muscles clenched his fingers.

He rode the wave with her, savoring each squeeze, each whimper, each spasm. And when her knees buckled, he held her upright. He kissed the pale skin between her curls and the twinkling heart and looked up at her. Her pleasure was a sight to behold. Dusky peach painted her cheeks and her lips were red and swollen from her biting them.

Her eyes slowly opened halfway and found his. The hand she had gripping his shoulder slid up the side of his neck, under his jaw and then she lifted his chin. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” And it had been. He rose and kissed her hard on the mouth.

Reality check. He’d been so eager to lose himself inside her he’d almost forgotten a critical component. “I’ve barely started. But we need a condom.”

Her lashes fluttered and she lowered her chin. “I have some.”

She bit her lip as if embarrassed by the confession, and then walked across the room. He enjoyed watching her move, and the tight curve of her bottom made him grit his teeth. Delicious.

Dana was a beautiful woman. How could he have been so blind?

She withdrew a plastic packet from her purse and turned. Despite the blush on her cheeks, there was a sexual sparkle in her eyes that grabbed him by the hormones and demanded his attention. But there was also a contradictory reticence lurking in the way her gaze bounced from his and the way she chewed her bottom lip. Her tight body language and a slight hesitation snagged his curiosity. He didn’t know what to make of this from his confident executive assistant who handled conniption-fit-throwing actors and on-set disasters without breaking a sweat.

He took the package from her, pulled her close and covered her mouth with his. Her response started out tentative but quickly became so wild and uninhibited she pushed him close to the edge of control. He nipped her bottom lip. She bit him right back—not hard, just playful. Sexy. Enticing as hell. Hunger bolted through him like lightning.

He stroked her smooth back, her soft bottom, and she mimicked his every move, squeezing where he squeezed, scratching where he scratched. He tightened his arms around her, pulling her flush against his erection for one brief moment before bringing his hand between them to find her center. She whimpered into his mouth as he thumbed her still swollen flesh.

She yanked her mouth free. “Max, I want you.”

“And you’re going to have me as soon as you do one more thing for me.”

“What?” Her body tensed in his arms and her nails dug into his shoulders. He quickened his caress. Orgasm overtook her.

“That’s what I was waiting for,” he whispered against her temple once she stopped shuddering.

Her lips and teeth found his shoulder, surprising him with a gentle love bite and punching him with another arousing jolt. She impatiently shoved his swim trunks down his legs and wrapped her fingers around his length. She stroked him long and slow from base to tip and back again.

His teeth clamped shut on a furnace blast of desire. It slammed him like a runaway trolley, winding him, making his head spin. He struggled to right himself and then kicked aside his trunks and tore the condom open with his teeth. She tried to take it from him, but he was so triggered he didn’t dare let her. He grabbed her hand and redirected it to less dangerous territory—his waist. Only that ended up being more hazardous than he’d anticipated as her nails traced havoc-wreaking patterns on his skin with devastating results.

He rolled on the latex with an unsteady hand, ripped back the comforter and backed her onto the mattress. She lay down and he caressed her long, luscious legs apart. He wanted to feast on her, to nibble from toes to earlobes, lingering and making her cry out again and again. He wanted that too much.

How could he want Dana this way when he’d never had a sexual thought about her before that kiss? He brushed aside the question and positioned himself. He intended to take it slow, to control his passion and keep his head the way he always did, but then she wrapped a hand around his nape, pulling him down for a kiss, and simultaneously hooked a leg behind his butt and pressed him forward. Slow and rational ceased to be an option.

He sank deep into her mouth and into the hot, slick glove of her body simultaneously. Hunger grabbed him by the groin and the throat, and a groan of pleasure barreled its way out of his chest. Instinct took over. He couldn’t slow the thrust of his tongue or his hips. She met him stroke for stroke, engaging in a mental and physical tug of war for control. Reining himself in was no longer a sure thing. It was a damned risky proposition.

He fought through the animalistic drive riding him and tried to focus on her pleasure. This was about her, about keeping her from Lewis’s bed. But damned if he gave a flip about his motives at the moment.

He swiveled his hips against her. She broke the kiss. “That f-feels g-good.”