His hand slid from her breast down her belly and over the skirt that had bunched at her hips—over it, to her lower stomach, and beneath the lacy elastic band of her panties.
He lifted his head and stared down at her, swallowing tightly as he fought to remember that he was not going to take her without making her realize she belonged to him.
Her face was wild with pleasure. Wild with it. Aubum hair surrounded flushed features. Her eyes had darkened until the green was mossy, the flecks of brown and blue like a hidden fire within it.
“Touch me.” She whispered the words as he edged his thigh back just enough to side his fingers into paradise.
He felt perspiration bead along his body as her nails bit into his shoulders and her head tilted back with a surfeit of pleasure. Her thighs parted farther, allowing his fingers greater ease into the dewdampened folds of flesh between her thighs.
Sweet flesh, tender, it parted for him, the heated moisture of her response spilling to his fingertips. He eased lower, fighting to hold onto his control, until he couldn’t help himself. He could not hold back the need. He pierced her with a single finger, amazed at how snug, how tight her heated pu**y was for him, and then worked deeper inside her.
She arched against him, the muscles clenching on his finger, surrounding it with slick, heated syrup and satiny flesh. He pumped into her, watching her take him, the pretty pink flesh and auburn curls parting, wet, welcoming.
Hell, she was hot. Hot and writhing in his arms, reaching up for the fragile penetration, as her cries begged for more. And he was no less desperate. His c**k was rigid beneath his pants, fully engorged, and aching for the tight clasp of her pu**y.
“Cam.” Her voice was rich, husky. “Oh God.”
A surge of white-hot lust had one of his hands lowering to the belt cinching his waist, while the other, loath to leave the creamy heat of her body, continued to caress and cajole more of her sweet syrup from her.
He wasn’t going to be able to hold onto his control this time. It would be rougher than he had wanted. Harder. And f**k making her face anything except his possession. He had been born for this moment. Born to burn in the fire she ignited inside him.
She stretched beneath him, her arms reaching above her, hands gripping the armrest behind her head as she thrust against him. His finger slid deeper, retreated. Pierced her as her h*ps lowered, slid nearly free as she lifted.
With her body, with each sensuous movement, she was taking him into her, riding his finger with such voluptuous pleasure that his c**k threatened to explode before he ever entered her with it.
He tore the belt buckle free, slid his finger from her, despite her husky, protesting cry, and was working to release his erection, when the shrill demand of his cell phone filled the room.
“No.” Jaci reached for him, her eyes burning into his with the same need tearing through him. “Don’t answer it.”
It rang again, the imperious summons causing him to snarl with impatience as he jerked it from the holder on the band of his pants.
“What?”
Jaci watched the grimace that pulled at Cam’s expression. Blood thundered through her body, the blistering need burned her from the inside out. But the reprieve was a lucky one, she realized suddenly.
She had lost her mind. She had to have. The careful control she had adapted over the years, the firm rein she had placed on her sensuality and her need to be held had slipped with Cam.
It had slipped with the most dangerous man she could have imagined. He wouldn’t reveal her secrets, he wouldn’t betray her—but he could destroy her.
She moved to pull her body from his, ignoring the tightening of his hand on her hip, pushing away his hold, as he watched her with that hawklike stare.
She rose quickly from the couch, ignoring both men now, pulling her shirt around her and straightening her skirt as she rushed to the bedroom. She closed and locked the door carefully behind her.
Her shirt was ruined. Buttons were missing, there was a tear at the shoulders. She ripped it from her body and tossed it across the room before pulling a soft, comfortable pullover from her closet, along with a pair of jeans.
As she finished dressing, there was a soft knock at the bedroom door.
“Don’t make me break the lock, Jaci,” Cam warned her.
Don’t make him break the lock. He was so arrogant, so selfassured. So certain of himself that it oozed from every pore of his body and made her want to scream in outrage, because she couldn’t find that confidence—couldn’t seem to fake even a quarter of that self-assurance whenever he was around.
She turned the lock and jerked the door open.
Standing before them, it was all she could do to rein in the shiver that would have trembled through her body at the look Cam gave her. The way his gaze slid over her body, the mocking quirk to his kiss-swollen lips.
Did her lips look like that? Reddened and swollen and hungry?
“We need to go back to the office,” he told her. “I’ll see you in the morning.”