The Merciless Travis Wilde

She did that, a lot.

Travis liked it.

Would her face and breasts turn that same shade of soft pink during sex? Would her eyes lock on his the way they were now, dark and wide but filled with passion instead confusion?

Crazy as it was, the fate of the world seemed to hinge on learning the answer.

“Because if we’ve met those protocols,” he said, moving closer, flattening his palms against the cab of the truck so that his arms encased her, “I’d like to take the next step.”

“What next—what next—”

He looked into her eyes. Looked at her lips. Gave her a second to figure out what was coming.

“No,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he said, and in what seemed like slow motion, he, lowered his head to hers and took her mouth.

Her lips parted. His tongue slipped between them. Her heart banged into her throat. The taste of him, the feel of him inside her mouth...

Ohmygod, she thought, oh—my—God!

He groaned.

His arms went around her.

Hers rose and wound around his neck.

She pressed herself against him. And gasped.

He was hard as a rock.

She wanted to rub against him. Wanted to move her hips against his. Wanted to—to—

He lifted her off the ground, one arm around her waist, the other just below her backside. Her face was on a level with his; he kissed her slowly, caught her bottom lip between his teeth and sucked on her flesh, and—and—

A dazzling jolt of pure desire shot through her, the same as it had for one amazing moment in the bar, when her fear and indignation had given way to something very, very different. Something she’d refused to admit, even to herself.

“Wait,” she whispered, but he didn’t and she didn’t want him to wait, didn’t want anything to wait even though this wasn’t going according to plan.

He set her down, slowly, on her feet.

Don’t stop, she thought.

He didn’t.

He put his hands on her.

On her hips, bringing her, hard, against his erection.

On her breasts, oh, on her breasts, his thumbs dancing with tantalizing slowness over her nipples.

“What,” she whispered breathlessly, “what are you doing?”

His laugh was low and husky and so filled with sexual promise that she almost moaned.

“What does it feel like I’m doing?”

She swallowed dryly. “It feels like—like you’re making love to me.”

“Good.” He kissed her throat. “Because that’s exactly what I am doing, Genevieve. What I want to go on doing.”

He kissed the place where her neck and shoulder joined.

It was magic.

Her eyes closed; the world went away.

And when he asked her to go home with him, she gave him the only logical answer because, after all, she was nothing if not logical.

She said, “Yes.”

CHAPTER FOUR

THE ’VETTE WOULD have been faster but Travis was driving his pickup tonight and the GMC Denali, modified to his specifications, was as fast as anything on the road that was street-legal.

Besides, his condo was only half an hour away.

Still, that half an hour seemed like an eternity.

Travis was having a tough time keeping his hands off the woman seated beside him.

Why wouldn’t he?

He was in the prime of life, a sexually active, heterosexual male, and their meeting had been just unusual enough to have an edge of excitement.

Still, there was something almost primal in his hunger for her—for Genevieve—and he knew it.

He’d come close to taking her against the truck, right there in the parking lot.

There was something to be said for spur-of-the-moment sex in unexpected places but sex outside a bar filled with a bunch of what might charitably be called yahoos wasn’t high on the list.

Besides, he wanted more than quick relief.

He wanted...

Who knew what he wanted tonight?

Had he gone into that bar looking for trouble?

As a boy, football had been an outlet for the anger he’d sometimes felt at his father for spending more time with the young men who served under him than with his own sons, even after their mother’s death.

In Afghanistan, once he’d figured out that he was fighting in a war governed by politics and not morality, he’d taken to long, punishing runs across the hot desert sand.

So, tonight, was he angry at his brothers for abandoning him? For the changes in his life...

Hell.

What kind of thoughts were those to have when a beautiful woman was with him, a woman whose feel and taste promised paradise?

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe what he needed was quick relief, that moment when you sank into a woman’s softness and heat...

Dammit.

He kept thinking like this, things would be over before they got started.

Ahead, a traffic light went from green to amber. He stepped down even harder on the gas and shot through the intersection before the light changed again.

Only another couple of blocks to go.

Genevieve was quiet. In fact, she hadn’t said a word since they’d gotten into the Denali.

He glanced at her. She was sitting up very straight in the leather bucket seat, eyes straight ahead, hands folded in her lap.

Hands that were trembling.

Was she having second thoughts?

“Hey,” he said softly.

She looked at him, then away. He reached over, put his hand over hers. Her skin was icy.

Was she frightened? It didn’t seem possible, not after the way she’d responded to him in the parking lot, but he’d lived long enough to know that anything was possible.

He wrapped his hand around hers, held on until her fingers unknotted and he could bring her hand to rest under his on the gearshift.

“We’re almost there.”

She nodded. And caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

His body tightened at the sight.

“I live in Turtle Creek. Near Lee Park.”

She didn’t answer. Why would she? What was he, a Realtor taking a client to see a property? If only she’d say something...

And how come he was taking her to his bed?

He wasn’t big on taking his lovers home with him. Not that this woman was going to be his lover but...

Why was he making this so complicated?

Travis cleared his throat.

“Did you—would you like to stop first? For a drink? For something to eat?”

She stared at him. Why wouldn’t she? He knew, she knew, what was going to happen next and in the middle of all that, he was going to, what, stop at a diner?

Maybe.

He flashed a quick smile.

“It just hit me, we blew past the ‘hello, how are you’ formalities. So, if you’d like to stop at a restaurant—”

She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. His body tigh

tened in response.

“No.”

Her voice was low, but her answer was clear.

She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

It was a good thing his place was directly ahead.

He slowed the truck. Hit the button that opened the garage doors. Drove inside. Hit the button that closed the doors...

And thought, to hell with waiting, undid his seat belt, reached over and undid hers and drew her into his arms.

“Genevieve,” he said, and he lifted her face to his. Her lips parted, and he kissed her.

It was like the parking lot all over again.

The kiss, the feel of her mouth under his, made his blood pound.

He couldn’t remember ever feeling a hunger this deep.

At first, he thought it wasn’t the same for her. She didn’t move, didn’t respond—until suddenly she made a soft little sound in the back of her throat and opened her mouth to his.

Now, he thought.

Right now. Right here. Get this out of the way so he could take her to bed without wondering if he could make it that far, but even in his fevered state, he knew the logistics—the cramped space—made it impossible.

Still, he had to touch her. Intimately.

Her skirt barely covered her thighs and he slid his hand under it, over the warmth of her skin.

She gasped.

“Wait,” she whispered, but he couldn’t wait, he had to at least do this, God, yes, do this, put his hand between her thighs, lay his palm over her silk thong...

She gave a sweet, breathless cry.

“Travis.”

It was the first time she’d spoken his name.

The way she said it, the sudden hot dampness that soaked the thong, almost undid him.

He kissed her again, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. She moaned, dug her hands into his hair and he shoved the thong aside, stroked her, stroked her...

She made high, incoherent little cries.

He could feel his muscles tensing.

If he didn’t stop now, it would be too late.

One last quick kiss. Then he stepped from the truck, went to the passenger side and gathered her into his arms, capturing her mouth with his as he carried her to the private elevator that led to his penthouse.

He set her on her feet, swiped his keycard. The doors opened, then whisked shut, and he clasped her face between his hands.