Page 61 of Impossible Love

I think of the way she handled those men in the conference room. How she played them, took them down. And for just an instant, I wonder if that’s what’s happening here, and I’m just another dumb sonofabitch who’s fallen into her trap.

I don’t even fucking care.

She slides a hand into the front of her skirt and throws back her head.

That’s it.

It’s on.

I grab her. Lift her, my hand under her ass. She moans in pleasure as I carry her to the closest flat surface I can find, which happens to be the antique pool table. I sweep my arm over the felt and the balls crash to the floor.

“Fuck me.” Her whisper is hoarse, needy. “Please, Cal.”

Chapter 31

Cal

For an instant, I worry that’s going to leave a mark.

Throwing all fifteen pool balls onto the antique Moroccan tile floor of the billiard room could result in breakage. I feel bad about that, since I always leave a place in the same or better condition than I found it.

That’s the way it is with me. Yes, I can be a wild ass. I can give in to animal lust and primal need. But that shit’s always tempered with the annoying habit of being overly responsible. Honorable. Loyal.

I’m a Navy SEAL. And a MacLaine. It’s a double whammy.

But I look down at Victoria Backlund, who’s pinned to the billiard table beneath me, and I think, Ah, fuck it. I’ll leave a giant tip for the Fairmont Hotel staff. I’ll personally apologize to Massi.

Right now, the only thing that matters is that I give the lady what she’s asking for. Because I’m also a gentleman.

“What did you say, baby? What is it you need?”

“You’re cruel.”

I chuckle, because she’s awfully fun to tease.

I grab her hands, raise them over her head, and pin them to the pool table. It makes her whimper. I bring my lips to hers, leaving brief, gentle kisses when I know she’s hoping for something more. She arches her back, pushing her body into me. There’s no mistaking what she’s requesting. She’s pretty direct about it.

So then, what am I doing? Is this just teasing? Or am I stalling?

I pull away and look down at her. She’s panting. Her suit jacket is unbuttoned and falling at her sides. That little pale-green lacy bra is barely containing those delicious tits. Her thighs are spread and her legs are locked around my ass.

Her thick red hair is fanned out on a backdrop of green felt, a color that almost matches her eyes. Her beauty is otherworldly. She’s the sexiest little thing I’ve ever seen.

Maybe that’s the problem. Victoria isn’t a quick fuck. She’s complex and fun and smart and gorgeous. I like her. I’m starting to think I may have feelings for her. And all that’s happening while there’s still this little prickly cactus needle in the back of my brain, reminding me that I have no idea what her next move is and how it will impact my family.

Just last night I heard her tell her father that she will follow through with the Sulfur Springs deal. Really, nothing has changed.

Except for one thing: we’re about to have sex.

And the sex we’re about to have will mark the start of something, not a one-and-done. I remember her expression as we sat on the piano bench, after she’d played my mother’s favorite song. I’d seen a shadow of something there. A request for help, even. I have to wonder if hours and hours of hot sex will help her. Or hurt her further. I don’t want to hurt her.

But I do want to fuck her.

I lower my head. Her bra is one of those hook-in-the-front jobs. I use my tongue and teeth to unlatch it and it pops wide, releasing two perfectly shaped breasts topped with little strawberry nipples. I nibble on one and then the other. I drag my mouth down the front of her body and let my tongue swirl around her belly button.

I think I hear her growl. Or purr. Hard to know for sure.

I gaze up at her. Her eyes are closed and she’s breathing fast. Teasing is well and good, but she asked to be fucked, and it’s time to give her what she’s asked for.

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