Claiming His Secret Heir

As the evening came to a close and the men shook hands, Caroline thanked and hugged Maresa, a woman she would gladly view as a friend and ally down the road. Assuming, of course, Caroline remained a McNeill. Her gaze sought her husband’s while they said their good-nights, wishing she could discern some small hint of the love Maresa had mentioned seeing in Damon.

When the door to the library closed behind Cameron and Maresa, who insisted they’d find their own way out, Caroline couldn’t deny the pleasant shiver she felt as her husband wrapped two arms around her from behind and drew her back against his chest.

“You look so beautiful.” His breath warmed her ear when he spoke. “I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you all night.”

Awareness stirred. Her pulse quickened at the feel of his whisker-roughened jaw against her neck as he bent to kiss her there. And yes, maybe she was far too willing to let go of the fears that had plagued her all evening. She needed this chance to be with him. To search for some hint of the love she wanted to feel in her marriage again.

“You appeared to be deep in conversation with your brother,” she accused lightly, a secret thrill racing through her that he’d noticed the extra care she’d taken with her appearance.

“Not from the moment you set foot in the room.” His hands skimmed her sides, lingering on her waist. “All I could think about was how soon I could get you out of this dress.”

The fitted black dress was deceptively modest with a Nehru neckline that kept the bodice well covered. It was sleeveless, however, with a sexy cutout along one shoulder so that from the back it was decidedly racier. The asymmetrical crepe hem was knee-length on one side and thigh-grazing on the other. Silver snaps up one side gave it a rock n’ roll edge.

And yes, she’d worn it with Damon in mind. They’d purchased it together from a design house in Italy on their honeymoon, and he’d liked it then, too. She’d brought it to New York with her, hoping it would bring them some of the romance and happiness of that time. Sure enough, the garment had worked some of its magic already.

“I seemed to recall you liked the snaps when we picked it out.” She gripped his hand and steered it south along one hip where the silver snaps began.

His fingers brushed her bare thigh where the fabric ended, and she could feel his appreciation for the outfit pressing against her. She rolled her hips against him, only too glad to let the heat of this moment burn away everything else. She didn’t know how much time she had left with Damon. She would damned well store up every moment of pleasure she could.

“I want you. Now.” He flicked open a snap and she felt the cool rush of air against her thighs where the fabric slid open, almost to her panties.

“What if someone comes in?” She didn’t know if the staff would be cleaning soon.

Then again, the feel of Damon’s strong hand palming the front of her leg made her knees too weak to walk anywhere. Desire rushed through her. Hard.

“There’s a private card room in back.” He spun her around, taking her hand to close the distance to an entrance she hadn’t noticed before, an opening disguised by one of the decorative lacquer panels. “This door locks.”

They entered and he flipped on a light switch that illuminated a wine rack in the back of a circular red room with a long, mahogany bar. At the center sat a leather-topped poker table with five club chairs. The sound of a bolt sliding into place sent a ribbon of anticipation tickling its way up her spine.

Turning to face Damon, she watched his blue eyes darken to midnight. There was a naked hunger in his gaze that, for a moment, she swore had to be more than just physical need. It had to be.

They both craved this with a passion that went beyond sex.

Then, his hands were on her again and her brain switched off. He wrenched open the rest of the snaps on the dress in one easy swipe, baring her body. She’d worn red silk panties but no bra, her B-cups supported enough by the dress.

And now they were well supported by her husband’s hands. His fingers roamed her curves, smoothing around the nipples and then gently plucking them, kissing each one in turn. A moan simmered from her and she pressed herself to him, arching up on her toes to position the V of her thighs closer to the hard heat of the ridge in his trousers.

His answering growl gave her another private thrill, stroking her feminine ego along with the fire inside. She wrapped her arms around his neck, desperate to be even closer. He lifted her up against him, steering her hips where she wanted them most, snug to his arousal.

He only left her there for a moment though, until he deposited her onto the heavy poker table, laying her on her back so her legs dangled off one side. The cool leather felt good against her back while she admired the view. He wrenched off his shirt, revealing the sculpted muscles she loved to touch. Then his hands moved lower, working fast but carefully as he unbuckled the belt and undid the buttons that kept him from her. She thought to repay him in kind, slipping a hand into her panties to give him access, but he halted her with an iron grip that gentled almost instantly.