AS TOM WALKED away from Gemma and the rest of the Rexford clan, he drank the rum in his glass. Gemma’s spiced honey rum was some of the best he’d ever had. From across the room, he watched Gemma Rexford speak with her brothers. He knew that he should forget about her, but no matter where he was in the room, his eyes found her every time, picking her out of the crowd. Her long, wavy hair was dark and shiny, and looked so soft he wanted to run his fingers through it. She was like a beacon. He’d always been attracted to her, but in the past, their interactions had been limited to quick conversations about the industry at trade shows and conferences. Tonight, though, he hadn’t been able to stay away from her. And as she stared up at him with those sharp, brown eyes, as she challenged him... God damn if she wasn’t the most impressive woman he’d ever met.
She was smart, sexy as fuck, had a quick wit and—he drank from the glass of Rexford Rum in his hand—she made one hell of a bottle of rum. She really was the best distiller he’d ever encountered. Part of him wondered what she thought of the Cain rum he’d poured for her. He’d wanted her thoughts as a professional. But that was stupid. It shouldn’t matter to him. His company made a fine product. Carolina may have tried to screw over her former family, but there was no way he would have let that happen.
From his spot across the room, he watched her speaking to her brothers. She looked guarded, however—on edge—as if they’d said something to upset her. Her posture was rigid, and she frowned. Briefly, he considered going back over there and pulling her away. But that was stupid. She was a strong, grown woman, and she didn’t need rescuing from her brothers. Especially by him. And that would probably earn him a punch in the throat. From her.
She was still drinking from the glass—at least she hadn’t thrown it down in disgust. He watched her hold it up to the light again. Looking for impurities, no doubt. She wouldn’t find any. He hoped. God, he wished he could read her mind. Or at least her expression. The woman was a puzzle. She looked up and saw him—caught him looking. He grinned, and after a moment, he turned away. He sighed. If he had to stay away from Gemma Rexford, it was going to be a long conference.
With his mind on Gemma, he did several laps around the ballroom. Every time he looked in her direction, he saw her eyes on him, as if she was following him through the banquet hall. He stopped every now and then to talk with people he knew. But no one could hold his interest like the female distiller from Miami. Gemma outmatched everyone in the room with her intellect, her biting sense of humor—he subtly adjusted himself by shifting his pants—her raw sex appeal.
A server walked past him carrying a tray of questionable-looking shrimp pieces in puffed pastry. Tom might have passed them up, but he hadn’t had anything to eat since that morning, and he was already feeling a bit of a buzz from the rum he’d had. He picked up an hors d’oeuvre from the tray and bit into it, immediately regretting his decision. The conference might be held at the nicest five-star resort in Jamaica, but it seemed that the catering was the same as any event at a three-star hotel. He bundled the remainder of the food into the small napkin and tossed it into a nearby trash can. When he looked up again, he was pleased to see Gemma standing in front of him.
“The food kind of sucks, right?”
“I would have expected better seafood from the Caribbean, but you can’t win them all, I guess.”
He noticed for the first time that she was holding two short glasses. She handed one to him. “I thought maybe since you enjoyed your first glass so much, you might want a second.”
He laughed. “Thanks. At least it’ll get the taste of that shrimp out of my mouth.”
“You know, if you’re looking for palatable shellfish, maybe you should head to Miami sometime. Nothing but incredible seafood restaurants there.”
He sipped from his glass, hiding his surprise at their now pleasant conversation. “Is that an invitation?”
She shrugged and drank, too. “It’s a free country. You can do what you want.”
“So, if I were to visit Miami, where would you recommend I go?”
“Hmm,” she started playfully. “Well, there’s Arlo’s. A great Cuban restaurant. But they’re so busy now that it’s almost impossible to get a table if you don’t know someone.”
“Well, I know you.” She didn’t respond, but he saw the blush that colored her cheeks. He liked that. He wanted to prod a little more, but he didn’t want to drive her away. He took a look around. “Where are your bodyguards?”
“My bodyguards?”
“Your brothers. They obviously didn’t like that you were talking to me back there.”
She shrugged. “I’m a grown woman. I can talk to whoever the hell I want.”
“Well, I’m flattered that you want to talk to me.”
“Don’t be too flattered,” she told him, her smile playful. “I’m only here because everyone else is so mind-numbingly boring.”
“Well, that’s the trouble with being the most impressive person in the room,” he noted. “No one’s your match.”
“You think I’m the most impressive person in the room?” she asked with a small smile that let a little vulnerability come through.
“You are,” he assured her truthfully. “No one else even comes close.”
Gemma smiled, trying not to let Tom Cain’s compliment go to her head. Well, it wasn’t her head that she was worried about. Just being in the man’s presence sent a drumline of desire straight between her thighs. What was she thinking going after him again? She hadn’t been thinking—that was her problem. There was no way she could be attracted to a Cain. It was stupid. And given every other interaction they’d had with that family, she had no idea if she could even trust him. But if her brothers found out? She didn’t even want to think about what they would do. Reid and Quin just might disown her. But tell all of that to the throbbing, needy desire that tapped out a message to her brain, telling her what to do. The message should have been SOS, because she was in serious trouble.
But Gemma just couldn’t help herself. She took in their surroundings; there was a supply closet to her left, and no one in the room was paying them any mind. So, acting quickly, she opened the door and pulled Tom inside before shutting the door, leaving them in the dim light of the small room. She looked around and in the dark, she saw stacks of chairs and folded tables. There wasn’t much room in there, but it would do.
“What are you doing?” he asked as she pushed him back against the closed door.
“Something totally irresponsible,” she told him before she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to meet her.
Tom’s lips captured hers in a blistering kiss that promised to devour her whole. That was exactly what she wanted. His taste, his scent, the way he pressed his hard body against hers, was enough to draw a needy moan from deep within her chest as she pulled him even closer, grasping at his shoulders, greedy for more, holding on for dear life. His kiss was unlike any she’d had before. She may be leaving the banquet dinner with an award for her rum making, but Tom should be given one for kissing.
Her hands were on his cheeks, and as his short, tidy beard tickled her palms, she imagined how the hair might feel between her thighs. She felt the thrum of desire in her core, and her panties grow moist, and she whimpered into his mouth.
With a desperate growling sound, he pulled away from her. Both she and Tom fought to catch their breath, and the sound of their mingled breaths filled the quiet room. She didn’t know why he’d ended their kiss and wondered if he would leave her wanting in the dimly lit room. But he didn’t make a move to leave. Surprising her, Tom put his large hands on her hips—digging his fingers in—and roughly turned her around before pulling her close again, pressing her back against his chest. She could feel the length of his dick against her ass, and he grunted against her neck when she rubbed against it.
Gemma knew Tom Cain was a smooth operator when it came to business—cool, collected—but there was nothing calm or gentle about the way his hands slid up and down her body. He pulled her hair away from her shoulder, exposing her neck, shoulders and chest. At the start of the night, she’d feared that the plunging neckline of her dress might be a little daring for the professional event. But when Tom put his lips on the sensitive spot at the hollow of her shoulder, she had no regrets about showing some skin.
Tom’s lips worked their way across her shoulder, and he palmed her breasts through her dress. His touch was rough, insistent, but it wasn’t enough. Gemma took his right hand in hers and pushed it down to her thighs. He needed no further instruction; his right hand immediately went under the hem of her dress and traveled upward. His touch tickled her thigh, and she stifled a giggle. The laughter died, however, when his right hand reached into her panties. There was nothing preliminary, delicate or timid about his touch. He knew what he wanted, what she needed. His breath warm and heavy in her ear, his fingers slid underneath the lace of her panties, skimming along her desire-slicked skin.
Anticipation kicked her heartbeat into overtime, and she thought it might burst out of her chest. When one of his fingers delved between her folds and brushed against her clit, she cried out as pleasure surged upward throughout her body, making her light-headed, completely forgetting about the reception happening on the other side of the door.
“Quiet, now,” he ordered, murmuring in her ear. With one hand in her underwear, rubbing against her most sensitive flesh, he covered her mouth with his other hand, muffling her moans and cries. She was trapped between his chest and the door, but there was nowhere she would rather be than in this storage room with him—well, maybe she’d take a bed or something, but she couldn’t wait for that. He slid two fingers inside her and her knees buckled, the heel of his hand bumping against her clit with every movement.
She threw her head back against his shoulder, exposing her throat to him even more. He took full advantage, kissing her, somehow finding that perfect spot at the base of her neck that made her feel like she was floating. She came without any warning. There was no notice, no buildup, as a furious bomb of pleasure exploded within her—starting deep inside and spreading to each of her extremities. She screamed against his palm and squeezed her eyes shut as he continued to touch her, drawing out every last drop of pleasure from her core.
When he finally released her, her legs felt weak, and she wasn’t sure she could stand on her own without Tom holding her up. He stepped back, and she gripped the top of a tower of banquet chairs that were stacked to her right.
He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder to steady her. “Are you okay?”
Embarrassed at the way she’d lost control and become unhinged, Gemma’s laugh was more of a breathless noise that she’d forced from her lungs. “Yeah, I’m great,” she told him. “That was all just a...surprise.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That wasn’t what you wanted when you pulled me in here?”
She shrugged, trying to look cool and unaffected, but having already fallen apart intimately in his arms, there was no chance of that. “I didn’t really have a game plan when I did that. I don’t know what I was thinking.” All she knew was that she wanted just one stolen moment with him.
“Really? I think you’re lying,” he challenged her, crossing his arms, watching her. “I think you knew exactly what you were doing.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because we can both feel the heat between us. We both feel that pull. I think that both of us knew that if we were ever alone, it would end exactly like this.”
She couldn’t disagree. “Don’t get used to hearing this,” she told him, “but I think you’re right.” His chuckle was deep, lustful, and she wanted him again. “But I don’t think that’s how you wanted it to end.” She nodded at his midsection, where a very visible erection was still straining against his slim-fit pants.
“Honestly, I’d stay in here with you all night if I knew we could,” he said, shaking his head. “But we don’t have time or the space for everything I want to do to you. That can wait until later. But for now, I’m pretty sure we have dinner, and you have an award to claim.”
Even though his promise of later sent a shiver through her body, he was right. She could hear the crowd moving past the door, no doubt taking their seats for dinner. She had already been determined to be the big winner, and she couldn’t go up on stage looking like a thoroughly sexed vixen. “We’d better get out there,” she said, catching her breath. She straightened her dress and finger-combed her hair.
“You look great,” he told her with a wince as he adjusted himself.
“You’re just saying that because you want to get into my pants.”
He cupped her cheek with his left hand. “I’ve already been in your pants, Gemma, and I’m going to be there again. But it wasn’t a lie. You’re beautiful. Although,” he said, pulling her hair to cover her shoulder, “you might want to cover those little red marks.”
“Did you give me a hickey?” she asked. “I can’t go up there with a hickey.”
He took a closer look. “It’s not a hickey. It’ll fade in a couple of minutes.”
Their eyes met. “Thanks.”
He kissed her again, and this time the touch of his lips was gentle. He unfortunately pulled away before she had a chance to settle into his kiss. “You let me know the next time you’re feeling irresponsible.”
She laughed. “Will do.”
“You’d better get out there, Rexford,” he told her, guiding her to the door with a small smack on her ass.
She put her hand on the doorknob. “See you around, Cain.”
“Oh, you definitely will.”
With that promise in her ears, she opened the door and joined the group of people headed for the round tables at the front of the room near the stage. She took a seat with her brothers and their dates.
“Where have you been?” Reid asked her.
“We thought we’d have to send out a search party,” Quin added.
“I was in the ladies’ room,” she told them. “I just wanted a few minutes alone.” Quin seemed to buy it, but Reid was still watching her, eyes narrowed. He was suspicious. But she smiled and drank her water. Her eyes drifted over Reid’s shoulder to a few tables away, where Tom sat with some executives and representatives from Cain Rum. He laughed at something, the deep rumble traveling across the room and hitting her low in her stomach. Part of her wished she was sitting at his table—next to him. What would that be like? Would he would drape his arm protectively over her chair? Would she rest her hand on his thigh...?
She blinked quickly. Whoa! What was she doing? He’d made her come in a storage closet and now she was hearing wedding bells? Come on, she chided herself. They weren’t in a relationship, and they never would be. It’d just been a while since she’d been with a guy who could make her fall apart in under a minute. That was all. She thought of his promise of later, and she drifted off briefly into a fantasyland where they spent the entire night in her bed. Tom caught her staring and smiled, as if he could read her thoughts. Gemma looked away quickly, suddenly embarrassed and unsure of how she could let the guy get under her skin so soon. Nope, she told herself. It’s never going to happen again.
She let herself take one more look at him, though. He was still staring, and she felt heat crawl over her skin, starting at her chest, and she knew it colored her cheeks with the telltale sign of desire.
Right?