With a growl, I rake my tongue up her center, lapping at her sweetness and reveling in her shocked little moan, before I settle on her clit.

  Her fingers find their way into my hair, and she tugs, hips wriggling, as I work the hard bud.

  “Oh, my…” Her back arches. “Oh. Oh…yes.”

  The sound of her pleasure resonates through every nerve and cell in my body. Once, I swore I’d never give her an orgasm. Now I can’t fucking wait. There’s something so kittenish and sensual about Bethany. If I had to bet whether any of her former lovers had ever gone down on her, I’d gamble everything I owned the answer is no. Being her first is turning me the fuck on.

  Happily, I redouble my efforts. I’m glad now that I’ve always enjoyed being oral with females. It won’t take me long to learn what stroke of my tongue will send her over the fastest. And I’ll definitely enjoy figuring it out.

  Soon, I settle into a slow, draggy rhythm, teasing her with long strokes before I lazily suck her clit into my mouth and pull, taunt her with a little nip, then release her to start all over again. Soon, she’s tensing, holding her breath, squirming and panting and begging.

  “Clint… Oh, please. Please. I…” Her next breath trembles, along with the rest of her body. “You’re killing me.”

  “Hmm,” I drawl, unwilling to take my mouth off her succulent flesh.

  I love the way she swells and blushes and grips my hair, trying to pull the short strands. The sting of my scalp spurs me on, makes me want to taste her on a deeper level.

  With my thumbs, I part her rosy folds and peek at all her sweet pink flesh. She’s beautiful all over, but hell, this must be the most perfect pussy I’ve ever seen, especially when I’m watching her whole body twist and writhe with the pleasure I’m giving her. And maybe I only think she’s so ideal because I’m in the moment. Maybe she’s really not any better put-together than any other woman. But I don’t remember similar thoughts ever crossing my mind.

  I dip my tongue deep in her well, drawing from the source of her flavor. Fuck, I want her everywhere—on me, around me, under me. Arousing her is pushing me close to the brink. I need to send her over and end my self-torture.

  I’ve got to get inside her.

  As I curl my tongue deeper, I circle my thumb around her distended clit in slow circles. She wails in agony, back contorting. Her skin is rosy all over. She struggles to breathe. And she looks so goddamn beautiful in pleasure I can hardly remember why I ever refused to give her any.

  “I-I’m…so close.”

  Fuck, yeah, she is. I can feel it, taste it, sense it.

  I grip her hips, sweep my tongue back over her clit, and lap my way into the rhythm I know will undo her. Seconds later, she digs her nails into my scalp, thrusts frantic hips up at me, and saws air in and out of her lungs before she screams like I’ve devastated her with the kind of pleasure that’s changed her definition of the word. And I’m loving every second of her orgasm, the smooth flow of honey, the undulating roll of her body as she tries to wring every last moment of ecstasy out of her climax and share it with me.

  Finally, she falls limply to the bed, breathing deep and fast, legs lax. Beautiful satiation transforms her face.

  I drink her expression in as I grab a condom before making my way up her body, kissing one hip bone and dragging my tongue over the soft valley between her breasts. Then I settle on top of her.

  “Am I alive?” she asks with a loopy grin.

  “You are,” I assure her. “In about two minutes, I’ll happily prove it again.”

  She shakes her head. “In two minutes, I’ll still be lying here with my eyes closed, trying to comprehend what just happened.”

  I laugh as I peel open the condom and roll it down my aching cock. “Not a chance. Come here, sweetheart.”

  When I gather Bethany in my arms, she shifts to her side with me, soft and instantly willing to cuddle. It feels good to have her against me, trusting me enough to hold her close when she’s vulnerable.

  Stroking my palm across her skin, I glide down her back, over the cheek of her ass, across her thigh. Needing more of her nearness, I lift her leg over my hip and press kisses across her shoulder, up her neck, take teasing nips of her lobe. Her eyes flare wide with surprise and rekindling arousal.

  I send her a knowing smile before I brush her lips with a kiss. “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  I press my mouth to hers again, this time nudging her open. As soon as she parts for me, I invade deep, fusing our lips together as I roll her to her back and align my cock with her opening. I probe her, gliding inside her—one slick, tight inch at a time. She wraps her legs around me, gasping as I slowly submerge myself all the way.

  Oh, damn… Being buried inside Bethany is almost a sacred experience. A shudder wracks me from head to toe. A groan tears from my chest. My hands tighten on her hips. I want to keep her pinned under me for each thrust as much as I want to feel her in my grip and be assured that she’s mine.

  I tear my lips from hers. “Hold on, this is going to be hard and fast.”

  “Yes…please.”

  That’s all I needed to hear.

  Like a man possessed, I grip the far edge of the mattress and use it as leverage to fuck her in deep, rapid-fire strokes. Her lips trailing across my jaw and her arms wrapped around me like she hopes I never let go does something to me. But the way her pussy grips me is magic. With every retreat and surge inside her, I swear she melts my muscles, ignites my skin, and fries my brain.

  “Yes!” I use every bit of my strength to pull myself up and into her, even deeper than before. “Fuck…”

  “Clint!” Her lips move in a flurry of frenetic need across my shoulder. “I ache again. How?”

  Around me she tightens, wails, fingers digging desperately into me. I can’t last much longer. Bethany is destroying my self-control. Being inside her and hearing her climbing cries of passion juices my bloodstream with pure, dizzying euphoria. I can’t stop myself from plowing into her one hard, pounding stroke after another.

  “Come for me,” I growl out. “Come…”

  It’s my last coherent thought before bliss rolls me. The sensations only grow more intense when Bethany tosses her head back and clamps down on me with a violent, shattering scream. As she comes apart in my arms, I unravel. Blood rushes. My heart pounds. My body grinds, churning closer and closer to a climax that I swear feels cataclysmic and unlike anything I’ve ever termed an orgasm in my life. It’s stripping me down, ripping me up, fucking rooting me to this woman. I should be terrified. Instead, it can’t get here fast enough.

  When the peak finally hits, it seizes my whole body. My rhythm falters. I try to get impossibly deeper inside her. Even though it’s hopeless, I still sweat and growl and charge ahead, pouring out every ounce of need into her. Something thick and unfamiliar backfills its place. I can’t identify it, but it’s sweet. It attaches me to Bethany in a way I’ve never felt. It makes me grip her harder, spill the last drops of my soul into her, and cling as if only she can somehow save me.

  As if, regardless of who she is or what’s happened in the past, with her is where I belong.

  Chapter Seven

  Dawn is a promise on the horizon when I slip out of Bethany’s cottage and tiptoe to the main house. She’s still sleeping, wrapped in the limp sheets and cozy blankets we shared last night.

  Other than Bethany, I can’t remember the last woman I actually slept beside for more than an hour or two. I usually don’t like touching a lover in my sleep. But, as seems to be the case with a lot of things, she’s different. All night, Bethany kept curling away from me on the far side of the bed. More than once, I rolled closer and dragged her body against me, wrapping my arm around her waist and burying my face in her neck. I woke up to her scent, to the feel of her backside against my cock, which stood hard and eager to pleasure her again after a peaceful, uninterrupted night’s sleep.

  Since Dad’s sudden death, that’s unusual, too.

  I let myself in the main house’s back door, hoping not to see anyone, and promise myself I’ll start mentally unpacking last night after coffee.

  As the brew drips into a spare carafe, I rummage around to find some fruit and a few pastries Keeley keeps on hand. As I toss everything onto a tray I find in the pantry, my phone buzzes. I almost ignore it—until I see the display.

  “Bret?” I answer my middle brother. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Just checking in, making sure you’re okay. Happy New Year, bro.”

  “Sorry I didn’t call yesterday. Tending bar the other night was a bitch. I think my feet are still recovering,” I try to joke, all the while wondering why Bret is calling so early…and what I’m going to tell him about Bethany. I know how he’ll view the situation—and that he’ll see what’s happening between her and me as a betrayal.

  “It’s cool. I would have called sooner myself, but man, was I hungover. I’m so glad class doesn’t start for a couple of weeks.”

  “Yeah. Listen, not to nag, but it’s time to lay off the booze and start focusing on the future again.”

  He’s quiet for a very long time. “Yeah, I know. And I know you’ve had it way worse than me, watching Dad die and being helpless to stop it. But I keep realizing that I’m twenty-one, and both of my parents are already gone. Basically, I’m an orphan. And every time I think about doing things like finding my first job, buying my first house, or getting married without them giving me advice or cheering me on, it scares the shit out of me. I’ve got no safety net.”

  I understand exactly how he feels, but he’s wrong. “I know it’s not the same, but you’ve got me. I’ll always be here for you. I don’t profess to know everything, but I promise I’ll help you figure it out as best I can.”

  He sighs. “Yeah, and I appreciate it. I’m aware that I need to adult and to stop leaning on parties and vodka to get through this shit. I’m just trying to figure out how. It will be easier once you nail that fucking bitch. How’s it going, by the way? Get anything from her yet?”

  I wince. What the hell do I say? Bret is convinced that if I pin Dad’s death on Bethany, his pain will vanish. Looking back, I pretty much thought the same.

  “Listen… Now that I’m here and looking into all the facts, I think we may have gotten it wrong. She’s not who you think.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Based on what I’ve been able to find, I don’t think she was involved with the theft of Dad’s money.”

  “What? How is that even possible?” he shoots back hotly. “She was his financial advisor. She had the pulse on his investments. According to you, she fucking lied to him, didn’t care that he died of a massive heart attack after he got the news, then skipped town. What suddenly changed?”

  “Bethany and I work together, so I’ve spent some time actually getting to know her. She doesn’t have a greedy or vicious bone in her body. I even had the chance to search her place and found nothing incriminating. I just don’t think she did it.” When he answers me with shocked silence, I feel compelled to fill the void. “Bret, there are two sides to every story. I don’t know all of hers yet but—”

  “Oh, my god. You fucked her, didn’t you?” my brother growls.

  I swallow. “The situation is more complicated than—”

  “Bullshit! You got some from her and decided that her pussy is more important than Dad’s justice. I can’t fucking believe you.”

  Shit, Bret is pissed, which makes him almost impossible to reason with. Still, I have to try. Yeah, I admit the cynic in me still harbors niggling doubt about Bethany and wonders if I’m being played by a maestro. But I can’t admit my reservations to my brother. Innocent until proven guilty, right? Ninety-nine percent of me is not sorry about what happened last night, and I won’t let him guilt me into regretting the intimacy Bethany and I shared.

  “Stop. Think. Do you want to know what happened to Dad and the money or not? I’m not going to get whatever information she has about the criminal operation at Reed Financial by being an asshole. She may be the only person who can tell us, so don’t judge. You’re not here. You don’t know what’s happening. You don’t know her. And you don’t know what she’s been through.”

  “Whatever. I hope you can live with putting your dick above your family. Just don’t cry to me when she fucks you over, too.”

  Suddenly, I hear three beeps in my ear and scowl. The little shit hung up on me? I shouldn’t be shocked. Bret has always been a rash hothead. I wish like fuck he would think things through before he acts.

  Gritting my teeth, I shove my phone in my pocket. Now isn’t the time to reason with him. Sure, I know why he’s upset. I understand what my actions look like on the surface, but he shouldn’t judge without the facts. Once I can answer the questions we’ve all had since the day I told him Dad was gone, he’ll come around. For now, I’m going to focus on Bethany and earning her trust so she’ll tell me her secrets. No, we probably don’t have a future. That sucks because I actually like her, and we seriously had the best sex ever. But someday—soon—I’ll have to come clean with her. Hell, she doesn’t even know my real last name. And once she figures out who I am, she might even hate me.

  Unless we’re stronger before I confess… Unless the feelings between us genuinely grow and she’s willing to forgive…

  Because lying and deceit are totally the ways to persuade her not to lump you in the douchebag category.

  Okay, I’ll have to try plan B, then—once I figure out what that is.

  But what if Bret is right? that annoying voice asks me. What if she is guilty? Nope. I can’t let myself think about the fact I could be falling for the woman who contributed to my father’s demise.

  The coffee finishes brewing, and I balance it all on the tray before I head back to Bethany’s cottage. Inside, I set everything on the kitchen counter, then tiptoe to the bed.

  At my approach, she rolls over and opens her eyes.

  The sight of her is a gut punch. Her pale hair splays across the sheets. Her half-closed eyes look slumberous and sexy as hell. But the little smile curling up her lips makes me want to strip down and persuade her to repeat last night right now.

  “Morning,” she murmurs, voice husky.

  Just like that, I’m hard again.

  I clear my throat. “Morning. I found some food and coffee at the main house.”

  She moans, something between acknowledgment and pleasure, then hides a lazy yawn behind her hand. “Thank you. That’s really sweet. Would you mind grabbing my robe off the back of the bathroom door?”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to remind her that I’ve already seen it all, but if that makes her feel comfortable, I’ll do it.

  “Sure.” I grab the pale blue satin garment and hand it to her.

  “Thanks.”

  “Want me to pour you some java?”

  “Please. Can you add a splash of cream from the fridge and a stevia packet from the cabinet to the left?”

  “You got it.”

  By the time I’ve done that, Bethany rounds the corner to claim her steaming mug, robe securely belted around her small waist…which only accentuates the fact she’s not wearing a bra. I can see the points of her nipples. I remember what they felt like, tasted like. I remember how she responds to my touch.

  She clutches the mug, blowing on her brew to cool it, not quite meeting my gaze.

  I swallow down a scalding sip of my own and try not to seduce her, at least not before caffeine.

  With a sigh, I set my java aside and grab her by the waist. “Come here.”

  Bethany is stiff until I nestle her against me and press a gentle kiss to her lips. Finally, she blinks up at me. “You make good coffee.”

  “You make good everything else. Last night was…” I grin at her. “Let’s just say I wanted to blow your doors off, but I’m the one dazzled.” When she blushes, I can’t help but laugh. “We’re good together. How are you feeling about it?”

  She frowns. “You actually want to talk about this?”

  “You don’t?”

  “I guess we could. It’s just that I expected…”

  “What? For me to roll you on your back and do you again without saying a word? Or for you to wake and find me gone because I decided to skip out?”

  “Either.”

  I can only imagine she expects that because someone taught her to. “Was Dalton the morning-after jackass?”

  “He was one of them.” She nibbles on her lip nervously, gaze not wavering from the brew in her mug. “But he was the one who hurt the most.”

  I tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Want to tell me about him?”

  She shakes her head. “He’s not important.”

  “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, Beth. But I need to know what you want to happen between us next.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Now that we’ve had a night of fun, are you having thoughts about kicking me to the curb?”

  “I wouldn’t have said yes in the first place if I didn’t like you enough to want more than a hookup. But I don’t have any expectations,” she’s quick to assure me. “I just appreciate you being so…kind.”

  I’m not following. “Kind?”

  A soft blush stains her cheeks. “Caring about my pleasure. I’ve only had that once before, and even then—”

  “Seriously?”

  “That’s weird to you, huh? Sex was just never that important. Now I see the big deal.” She gives me a nervous laugh.

  It’s shocking to hear Beth confirm the suspicions I had last night. It blows my mind that a woman as gorgeous and responsive in bed as Bethany has only had one sexual partner before me who gave a shit about her pleasure. I’m not going to ask if she’s picked up all her exes at Douchebags R Us. And I’m not listening to that voice in the back of my head—the one that sounds a lot like Bret’s—telling me I shouldn’t be giving her orgasms now. Because what really matters is what happens next.

  “It was a big deal for me, too.” And while I’m being honest, I might as well admit something else. “It felt special.”