Chapter Nine

“Reece!”

Vin saw red as a guy with light blond hair wrapped his date in a familiar embrace. His first urge was to shove the guy out of the way. Until he saw the joy on Reece’s face. What the hell? Who was this douche? Dressed in a Tommy Bahama shirt and what looked like swim trunks, this guy couldn’t be here for the gallery opening, could he?

The guy leaned back just enough to stroke a hand down her face. “Still hot as ever.”

She grinned into the other man’s face. “Pony! When did you get back?”

“Last night. My dad said if I wasn’t here for this”—he waved his hand behind him—“he’d reinvest next month’s dividends instead of transferring them to my account.”

“Harsh.” Reece wiggled out of his hug and turned him to Vin. “Curtis Larson, this is Vincent Ferguson.”

Curtis extended a hand, giving Vin a wide smile. “Hey, man, nice to meet you.”

Vin gave a forced smile and shook the millionaire’s hand. Daddy’s dividends, his ass. One more ridiculous reminder Reece and he really were from two separate worlds. “Yeah, Curtis, nice to meet you.”

Curtis grinned at Reece for a moment too long, in Vin’s book, but then to Vin he said, “Come on. If you’re anything like me, you’ll want a drink in your hand before you brave that crowd.” He nodded toward the gallery.

Vin doubted he was anything like Curtis, but— “I wouldn’t say no to a whiskey.”

Curtis shrugged. “I’m more of a beer guy myself, but the bar has both.”

A woman waved at Reece, and she waved back. “You go with Curtis. I’m going to say hello to Claudia. Come find me after?”

Vin recognized the woman from the fundraiser. “I’ll bring you a glass of something white.”

“Perfect.” She rose on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Make sure you smile at the reporters.”

Her spontaneous kiss made sense now that Vin turned and smiled as some photog snapped another shot. Then he strode with Curtis to the bar, not eager to be separated from Reece for too long. When he glanced over at her, she stood among what could only be considered South Beach’s who’s who of socialites. From this distance, the scene was everything Vin wished he’d been raised with and everything he couldn’t stand about this place. The group looked too coordinated, in their thousand-dollar outfits designed to look the part of a casual late Saturday afternoon. Even Reece’s outfit matched the setting flawlessly.

Curtis groaned. “Looks like Dad got a hold of your date.”

Reece shot Curtis and Lissette’s father a lively grin, and Vin stiffened. In the harsh afternoon sunlight, he saw Reece with crystal clarity. She wasn’t issuing polite smiles or fake greetings. Her gestures were animated, her posture relaxed. This was her element. These were her people.

She looked over, caught him staring, and waved.

Bordering on rudeness, he grabbed their drinks, nodded at Curtis, and beelined his way to Reece.

Thom Larson’s smile faded as he glanced up and noticed Vin approaching, but to give the man credit, he also gestured toward the two drinks in Vin’s hand and said, “Vincent. Thanks for coming to Lissette’s opening. I should probably excuse myself to find her.”

Unable to shake his hand, Vin nodded. “Thom, sir. Good to see you.”

Thom placed a hand on Reece’s shoulder. “Happy birthday, sweetie. You let me know when you’re heading up the foundation.”

“I will.” Reece touched the man’s arm before he strode away, but Vin didn’t miss the wince at his parting words about the foundation. He’d return to that later. It was the first part that caught his attention.

He handed her the champagne. “It’s your birthday?”

“It’s my birthday,” she confirmed. Then, in a very un-Reece move, she drained her flute in three fluid swallows and slid her tongue over her top lip. “Not as tasty as”—she flicked her gaze to his pants and then back to his face—“you, but I guess it will have to do until you get me on that boat.”

She bit her lower lip, and he lost it.

To hell with the gallery. He hadn’t known it was her birthday, but he planned to fuck the little bit of sadness out of her expression, and he’d find out later what caused it.

“Boat’s this way.” He nodded in the direction of the water.

Her eyes lit with excitement, and he steered her toward the exit. She wanted sex on a boat, and right then, the only thing that mattered to him was giving her what she wanted. He scoffed at himself, a slight bitterness tinged with desire. No wonder she walked around like she owned the world. She did. He couldn’t think of a single guy who would deny her whatever she wanted, and he was no different.

That ugly thought didn’t stop him from leading her down the cobblestones toward the marina. As the noise from the shops faded behind them, he all but hauled her down the dock and onto his McConaghy 50 multihull catamaran. They barely made it inside before he pressed his mouth on hers. He moved his hands into her hair and wrapped the ends around his fist, drawing her head back and exposing her neck. When Reece clawed at the hem of his polo and dragged it over his head, he released her enough to slip the offending fabric off his body. Hers came off in one swift motion. Then his mouth was on her again, on her lips, her neck…lower.

He growled as he shoved the bra straps over her shoulders and down to her waist, exposing her breasts as they rose and fell with her ragged breathing. Pure skin, pebbled nipples.

“God,” he whispered. The first time had been about giving her pleasure, and this time would be no different. Except he planned to take his sweet time, so he needed to slow the fuck down.

“Vin?” Her look held confusion as to why he’d stopped, and in her midnight eyes, he also saw a vulnerability that wrecked him.

This woman knew nothing about what he could do to her. How he could make her scream. How he could leave his mark on her. Both times before had been rushed. She’d been satisfied; he’d been sure of that. But this time would be different.

This time she would whimper and beg for her pleasure.

…

Vin’s feral look shifted to scheming, and Reece held her breath.

“The sun’s still out,” he said.

“Yes,” she agreed, glancing at the open window and raising her hands to cover her breasts.

“Uh-uh.” He shook his head and lowered her arms, rubbing a thumb over one nipple and then the other. “Beautiful.”

He made her feel beautiful. “I don’t think getting caught will help your reputation.”

“Come with me.” He reached out and led her to the stairs, guiding her in front of him and cupping her ass as she climbed up first.

The king-sized bed took up most of one room, but Vin angled her to the left, into a seating area with a sofa and a desk. The dining table from hours before rushed through her mind, and with an unfamiliar brazenness, she wiggled out of the rest of her clothes and pressed down on the desk, pretending to test it.

He came up behind her and with painfully slow movements traced his fingers around her hips and up her stomach, the tips of his thumbs grazing the bottom of her breasts. Her very heavy, extremely turned-on breasts. She arched back, hoping he’d get the picture. Get things moving. The ache between her thighs was torturous, and she wanted relief. Instead, he brushed leisurely kisses over her shoulders, and she shivered when his hands massaged her breasts.

She reached her arms over her head, lacing her fingers in his soft hair, and closed her eyes. Leaning back into him, her head lulled to the side as he scattered light flicks of his tongue down her neck. “If you’re trying to kill me, it’s working.”

His warm chuckle hit her shoulder a moment before he nipped her with his teeth. Wild sensations shot straight to her core, and she opened her eyes as he turned her to face the sofa.

“You’re so damn beautiful.”

A mirror over the sofa reflected an image of a wanton woman, naked, exposed, and utterly turned on. She caught his gaze in the reflection, felt his cock press into her back. She’d never seen herself in this state of desire, and she watched, fascinated, as he took one nipple between his thumb and index finger.

“Does this turn you on?” He squeezed his fingers together until she moaned. “Does it?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Do you like it when I pinch you like this?” With the same pressure, he manipulated the tip of her nipple, and waves of electricity skipped to all her nerve endings.

She closed her eyes, her breathing unsteady, her knees weak. Her hands clamped onto the back of his neck.

He gave a little tug on the other nipple, and she opened her eyes to look at him. “Answer me, please.”

She could barely breathe, let alone think. And that diabolical grin curving his mouth did nothing to lessen the ferocious desire coursing through her. “Yes.”

It took every bit of concentration for her to stand there, every ounce of strength to hold his hair, his neck, his shoulder—anything to keep her upright—as he teased and played with her. She was so slick. So ready.

“Last question.” His low voice stroked down her ear at the same time his hand slid between her legs, circling in her heat. “Do you like it when I touch you here?”

Her breath hitched with each agonizing swirl. He was definitely trying to kill her.

The pressure built to animalistic proportions, and she writhed against him, eager to come. This was what she wanted.

His hot mouth clamped on her neck, and her knees buckled, the orgasm exploding through her.

He knew her body now. Somehow, he knew what she liked. How much pressure to use. Where to kiss.

“That was—” Unexpected. Amazing. Earth-shattering. “Perfect.”

He caught her gaze in the mirror and held it with a grin filled with mischief. “Oh, we’re just getting started.”

He was her every fantasy come to life.