“Did you rent your house?” Mitch asked, to draw Carly’s brick-melting, mischievous grin away from his brother.
“Yes, the couple signed the lease my attorney prepared. They’re moving in Friday. So you’re stuck with me for a while.”
He ignored the question in her voice. He wouldn’t lie and tell her she was welcome here. She wasn’t. She was merely a necessary evil. A necessary evil that just happened to light his fuse.
She stared at him and when he remained silent, tension slowly invaded her features. A flush crept up her cheeks and then her chin lifted. Her gaze dropped to Rhett.
“Let’s go for a swim, munchkin.” Carly reached for Rhett. Her fingernails lightly grazed Mitch’s bare chest from his underarm to his nipple as she took the boy. Goose bumps prickled his skin. Deliberate?
Mitch looked into her chocolate-brown eyes and the heat he saw there incinerated him on the spot. Oh yeah, definitely deliberate. What was she trying to pull? The action had been subtle. Rand couldn’t have seen it. But Mitch’s reaction to her touch and to the memory of how uninhibited Carly had been in bed wasn’t going to be as easy to miss. He’d be tenting his trunks if he didn’t break her spell.
He wanted her. Now. To hell with his brother—brothers, plural. The strength of his craving didn’t bode well for his plan to kick her out at the end of the year. But he would. Even if he wasn’t right about Carly eventually bailing on mom patrol, Mitch was already married. To his job. It was the only mistress that didn’t ask for more than he was willing to give. And the only one that wouldn’t betray him.
Carly strolled toward the pool. Mitch’s gaze zeroed in on the sway of her delectable butt.
“Nice,” his brother said.
Mitch scowled at Rand.
His brother gave him a pitying look.
Damn. He’d invited Rand over for a swim and cocktails because he wasn’t in the mood for one of those angsty chats women preferred about what sex really meant. And he knew from Carly’s searching glances both at lunch and a minute ago that she had one brewing in her brain.
But instead of his brother being a buffer, Mitch had discovered a possessive streak he hadn’t known himself capable of, and he’d played his cards like an amateur.
If he wasn’t careful, he could wind up broke.
If his brother smiled at Carly one more time, Rand wasn’t going to have any teeth left to smile with.Mitch set his wineglass on the coffee table and stood. “It’s late. Carly and I have to get up early to run before church.”
“Church? You?”
He ought to say yes just to wipe the wiseass smirk off his brother’s face, but then he’d have to attend the service and Rand would really have something to yank his chain over. Except for weddings and funerals, the Kincaid offspring hadn’t seen the inside of a church since their mother’s funeral, after she’d nailed their father’s favorite sports car to a tree when Mitch was twelve. Their father had always refused to acknowledge a higher power than himself.
“Carly and Rhett go. I have to work.”
Rand leaned forward to deposit his glass beside Mitch’s, but not fast enough to hide his amusement. “Then I’ll get out of your way.”
The SOB knew exactly why Mitch wanted him gone. Mitch didn’t like being laughed at. He was the CFO of a multibillion-dollar company, respected in his field and damned good at his job. No one laughed at him.
“Thank you for inviting me to dinner, Carly.” Rand stood and extended his arm.
Carly unfolded the long legs she’d tucked beneath her in the chair and rose to shake hands. Rand held hers for too damned long. “You’re welcome. Please stop by again. I’m so glad to have finally met you.”
Mitch ground his teeth. He’d had to compete for his mother’s attention and then his father’s and then Trish’s. He’d be damned if he’d compete for Carly’s. She was his part of the will fulfillment. Rand could worry about fulfilling the requirements of his own inheritance clause, which, from all reports, wasn’t going well.
“I’ll show you out.”
Rand’s lips twitched again and he shook his head. “I know the way.”
Mitch stormed to the front door and held it open anyway because Rand wasn’t moving fast enough. He waited and tried to rein in the possessive streak burning through him like a lit trail of gunpowder as his brother and Carly ambled toward the foyer at a slug’s pace.
What in the hell had happened? When had he lost control of the evening? And why did he care that his brother could make Carly laugh?
He shook with the effort required to restrain his temper and quietly close the door behind Rand.
“I like your brother,” Carly said behind him. “He’s funny.”
The words made Mitch see red. He pivoted. “He’s taken.”
Carly looked at him strangely. Probably because he’d spit out his reply like chewing tobacco. “He said he lives alone and hasn’t bothered to furnish his apartment. He didn’t mention being involved with anyone.”
“That’s because he’s on the verge of screwing this inheritance up for all of us. Tara, his personal assistant, is part of it.” He advanced on her. “You flirted with him.”
Carly parked her fists on her hips, right beside the baby monitor she’d been wearing clipped to the waistband of her low-rider jeans since returning from tucking Rhett into bed an hour ago. Anger slapped her cheeks with color.
“Oh please. You set him up by sitting him next to the kamikaze kid. At least he had a sense of humor about getting bombed. Unlike someone I know.”
She charged forward until they were toe to toe. “I didn’t flirt. But what if I had? It’s not as if you care. For all the warmth you’ve shown tonight, we could be strangers who met on the street this afternoon, not two people who shared a bed and our bodies ten hours ago.”
He’d never liked pushy, temperamental women, but strangely, Carly’s anger and aggression aroused him. And he couldn’t help but admire that she wasn’t intimidated by him. If anything, she leaned into him as if she were trying to bully him. Impossible. He’d been bullied by the best—his father—without success.
“You want warmth? I’ll give you warmth.” He snaked an arm around her waist and yanked her close. Her body crashed against his, jarring the air from his lungs. He took her mouth almost violently in a kiss that was more combat than caress. Lips and h*ps ground.
Instead of flinching, Carly gave as good as she got. Her nails dug into his biceps, holding him, not pushing him away.
He grabbed her waist, swung her around and backed her up against the wall beside the front door. She landed with a soft thud and an oomph. But she didn’t break the kiss. Her palms shifted to cup his face and hold it there.
He forced open her lips and invaded her mouth. Their tongues clashed and dueled, fighting for supremacy. He didn’t give an inch in the skirmish, but neither did she. His hands fisted in the fabric of her shirt. He wanted to rip it off. Only their location stopped him. Any of the staff could barge in. Being a Kincaid meant being tabloid fodder. Everyone had a price, and even the most dedicated employee could be bought.
Carly hasn’t been bought.
Yes, she has. But by living in luxury instead of with cash.
And still he wanted her. It pissed him off.
Without freeing her mouth, he tangoed her backward down the hall and into his study. One slap slammed the door. A flick of his wrist locked it. He didn’t stop until he had her pressed against his desk. Furious with her for the laughs and smiles she’d shared with his brother and even more disgusted with himself for his loss of control, Mitch didn’t try to be gentle. He tore her shirt over her head and shoved her jeans down her legs. The monitor landed with a thump. Batteries spilled out and rolled across the rug. He didn’t care. Her bra and panties sailed over his shoulder.
But instead of being nak*d and cowed, Carly attacked. She mimicked his actions, pulling, yanking, popping buttons, and within seconds they were both down to their birthday suits and breathing heavily. His hands chaffed her skin, hurriedly, impatiently, greedily. He wanted to touch all of her. Now.
Her nails raked his chest, his back, his ass. She dug in and pulled him close. Hot skin smelt hot skin. He tasted her nak*d lobes, her neck, and then bent her over the desk to sample the tight tips of her br**sts.
It wasn’t enough to sate his savage hunger.
He lifted her onto the dark, glossy surface, pushed her knees apart and stepped between her legs. His muscles clenched in anticipation of sinking deep and then locked in screaming protest. Her slick flesh cradled his erection, tempting him to break every rule ever drilled into his head. “Damn.”
“What? Don’t stop now.”
“No condom,” he forced between gritted teeth.
“I’m healthy. If you are, then it’s okay. I’m on the Pill.”
For an unforgivable second he wanted to believe her, to trust her. That infuriated him. Those were probably the same words her sister had used to entrap his father.
“Not good enough.”
She whacked his shoulder with an open palm. He barely noticed the sting. “Jerk.”
He spewed a four-letter word—one he never used in the presence of a female.
“Please do.” The hunger and frustration darkening her eyes slashed right through his restraint. But he didn’t see cunning or avarice.
To hell with it. If there were consequences, his attorney would deal with them. Mitch grabbed her h*ps and yanked her forward, impaling her. A hot, wet inferno enfolded him and his spine caught fire.
He withdrew and slammed home again and again and again, harder and faster with each return. His name rushed across his shoulder in a scalding breath. Her teeth bit into his flesh and her nails scored his back. He’d never come close to experiencing anything like the fierce, animalistic claiming.
Fighting for dominance and control, he forced her back onto the desk. A pen cup fell over. The phone crashed to the floor. He didn’t care. He took and took some more—sucking, nipping—and Carly did the same. Her hands and mouth burned over him. They’d both be marked tomorrow.
“Faster.” Her heels hooked behind his butt, urging him on. She quivered beneath him. And then her back bowed and her head tilted back, spilling silky hair across the desktop and baring her throat. He sank his teeth into the exposed tendon on the side of her neck, no better than a damned vampire, hungry, so damned hungry for her.
She convulsed beneath him, clenching him with her arms, legs and internal muscles. And he lost it. Shudder after shudder racked him, draining him of everything including his strength.
The arms he had braced on the desk beside her head folded and he collapsed on top of her. His sweat-dampened torso fused to hers and their chests billowed in unison. But as the sweat dried on his skin and his body cooled, so did his fevered brain.
Bowing his head, he silently cursed his stupidity. He’d taken a chance he shouldn’t have taken, made the one dumb-assed mistake he’d never made before. Sex without a condom. He couldn’t risk the fallout. Couldn’t risk her going to ground the way her sister had done, disappearing and showing up fourteen months later with an eight-month-old Kincaid.