Fortune's Forbidden Woman

It was better, she knew, because it was Creed. And with him she wasn’t afraid, she wasn’t shy, she wasn’t self-conscious.

With him she didn’t recall his long-ago accusation that she acted like a slut, but instead remembered all the times she’d wanted him, lusted after him, dreamed about him.

And now, finally, she could have him.

Her arms tightened around his neck, her fingers playing in the ends of his short, dark brown hair. She whimpered and wiggled in his hold, striving desperately for something she couldn’t name.

He pulled away, chest heaving, breathing ragged. His blue eyes glittered as he held her gaze.

Muttering a heartfelt curse, he shook his head, then swooped in to take her mouth again.

This time he didn’t settle for just kissing. His hands clasped her waist and swung her around, manipulating her as easily as a tailor’s mannequin. Without breaking the contact of their lips and tongues, he walked her backward through the living room and hall, up the staircase and into her bedroom.

She didn’t stop to wonder how he knew his way through her house or which bedroom was hers; she was simply relieved by his focus and excellent navigational skills. And she clung to him, wrapping her legs around his waist halfway up the stairs to aid his progress.

He carried her into the room and straight to the bed, laying her on top of the covers, rumpled from where she’d thrown them off when he’d woken her with his pounding.

Her nightshirt bunched to her waist, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against the soft skin of her inner thighs. His hands sneaked over her hips and waist, beneath the hem of the shirt, pushing it higher as his fingers moved toward the swells of her breasts.

His lips caressed her chin and jawline, brushing the lobe of her ear before trailing down her throat in a series of nips and licks. When she felt a gentle pressure beneath her arms, she lifted them willingly above her head and let him pull the nightshirt off entirely.

The cool evening air blew across her naked breasts and torso, and she quickly lowered her hands to cover herself.

“Don’t.”

Creed’s fingers circled her wrists like manacles, slowly tugging her hands away to reveal her nudity to his hungry gaze.

“Don’t hide,” he said again, his voice low and strained. “I want to see you, all of you.”

He ran the side of his thumb over the tip of one breast, grinning when it puckered and swelled beneath his ministrations.

She sucked in a breath of air, her back arching into his touch. Her face felt flushed, her entire body a wriggling mass of fever-hot nerve endings, even as she fought not to let her natural tendency toward embarrassment take over.

He had her hands pinned above her head, the rest of her pinned by his weight and bulk. And the look in his eyes was that of a hungry wolf—fierce, predatory, determined.

“Lovely,” he murmured, then swooped in to lick a tight, budded nipple.

She gasped, her fingers clenching into fists above where he held her arms down. He licked the other nipple, just a quick, light swipe, before settling in with more thorough, undivided attention.

His tongue rasped like sandpaper along her sensitive nerve endings. He turned her flesh hot with his mouth, then cool with the soft hush of his breath. After creating a world of sensual devastation at one breast, he moved to the other and did it all over again.

When he lifted his head, he was grinning. “Like I said, lovely.”

His fingers loosened from her wrists, but she didn’t bother attempting to lower her arms. She didn’t have the strength, even if she’d wanted to. She simply lay there like a rag doll, depleted of energy or the will to move.

Still smiling, he skimmed the underside of her arms, the sides of her breasts, her waist, until he reached the top of her high-cut bikini panties. They were nothing special, just plain lavender cotton. But then, she hadn’t known anyone would be seeing them when she’d dressed for bed a few hours ago.

Her choice of undergarments didn’t seem to bother Creed, though. He brushed his lips around her navel and along the waistband of the panties, then slowly began to drag them off.

A flutter of self-consciousness rippled in her belly, and she had to curl her fingers into the sheets to keep from covering herself again or trying to wiggle away.

If Creed noticed her sudden bout of discomfort, he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he kept his gaze locked on the dark triangle at the apex of her thighs that he was revealing inch by agonizing inch. He pushed the panties down her legs, slipping them over her feet and letting them fall to the floor beside the bed.

A moment later he pushed to his feet and straightened, all six feet, two inches looming above her.

For a second Maya thought he meant to leave…leave her there, naked and flushed, and walk away. But then his arms lifted and his fingers began to deftly release the line of buttons at the front of his shirt.

One by one, he slipped them through their holes, and little by little his chest became exposed. The bronzed skin. The firm muscles. The light sprinkling of dark hair.

Maya’s mouth went dry and she had trouble breathing. He was so beautiful. Tall, athletic, sculpted like some sort of Greek god, or the epitome of the perfect man every woman fantasized about.

He was certainly her idea of the perfect man.

Tugging the tails of his shirt out of the waistband of his jeans, he released the last couple buttons before shrugging out of the shirt and letting it drop to the floor. He started to kick off his boots, at the same time unzipping his trousers.

He pushed everything, jeans and underwear, down his legs and off. But instead of leaving them in a pile on the floor, he withdrew a rear pocket, pulled out his wallet, then dug out a small plastic square. Dropping the clothes, he stepped intently back to the bed in all his naked glory.

He was the first man she’d ever seen completely nude, but for once, she wasn’t flushed with embarrassment. She was…awed.

Amazing didn’t quite cover it. Neither did fabulous, marvelous, or any of the other two hundred adjectives that flitted through her mind. A few of her more precocious students might say hubba-hubba, and that came close.

His shoulders were broad, his waist flat and tapering down to narrow hips, his legs long and well-muscled. But it was what hung between those legs that held her rapt attention.

Admittedly, her experience of such things was limited. Limited, ha! Verging on nonexistent, was more like it. But even so, she was familiar with the basics of the male anatomy, and in her somewhat biased opinion, Creed was a most impressive specimen.

Before she had a chance to look her fill, he was stretching out above her, covering her from head to toe. The hair on his legs and chest tickled, but she didn’t laugh. She was too distracted by the rigid length of his erection rubbing her in all the right places.

His fingers drifted over her temples, threading through her hair to hold her steady while he planted light, butterfly kisses on either side of her mouth. First one corner, then the other before he took her mouth for a slow, luxurious exploration. He made her feel like a particularly decadent sweet he wanted to take his time with and really enjoy.

While he continued to kiss her deeply, his hands traveled down her body, one pausing to toy with the tip of her breast, the other sliding lower. Past her waist, over the curve of her buttock, and down her thigh until he reached the bend of her knee.

He lifted her leg, bringing it up to hook around his hip so he could settle more fully against her. His arousal, already sheathed in the condom he’d retrieved from his wallet, prodded her feminine opening.

Cocking her hips, she opened herself even wider, doing everything she could to ease his entry. He slipped inside, just the tip, but she was already wet and ready for him. She’d been waiting for this moment all her life, and her body was primed and more than eager for him to finally claim her.

A low groan rolled up from his diaphragm as he pressed deeper. Inch by inch, he filled her, stretching her slick inner folds until she thought she could die from the sheer pleasure of it all.

Just when she figured he couldn’t go any farther, he pushed forward again. This time, instead of pleasure, a sharp, lightning flash of pain made her stiffen and bite her bottom lip to keep from crying out.

Thankfully, the discomfort passed quickly, and she was once again able to breathe. Above her, Creed held himself perfectly still, staring down at her. His brows knit in consternation.

“Are you all right?”

The words were strained, his chest heaving as he struggled to get enough air into his lungs. The muscles in his biceps quivered with the effort to hold his weight off her.

She nodded, offering a small smile to let him know she was telling the truth. A beat passed while he considered her answer, then seemed to take her at her word.

He returned his mouth to hers, kissing her softly but thoroughly while lower, he began a slow in and out motion that washed away any lingering tenderness. Instead, there was only pleasure.

It started as just a trickle, the temporary replacement of something not-so-nice with something not-so-bad. But soon enough the sensation grew, building in ever-increasing waves.

She lifted her legs to lock more tightly around his waist, urging him closer. Her hands smoothed up and down his back, the nails alternately digging in and clawing long lines across the sweat-slickened flesh.

His own fingers clasped her bottom, kneading and stroking as his thrusts picked up speed. He moved deeper, harder, faster, until she was gasping against his mouth and reaching for…she didn’t know what. She only knew she wanted it, needed it, might die without it.

Still holding her hip and buttock, Creed’s other hand slipped between them and stole into her damp folds, finding the tiny bud of desire hidden within. He rubbed the spot, first lightly, then with more pressure, making her cry out and writhe beneath him.

“Come with me,” he whispered raggedly. The rough line of his cheek abraded hers, his lips mere inches from her ear. “Come with me now.”

He pounded into her again, at the same time his fingers worked their magic, sending her off like a rocket. Her mouth opened on a soundless scream, her back arched and her vision went hazy.

From somewhere outside her body, she felt him thrust once, twice more and then stiffen above her. Oxygen left his lungs in a loud sigh as he collapsed, his weight pressing her down into the mattress.

She lay there, her legs still wrapped around his waist, her arms still linked about his shoulders and a smile as wide as the Big Sioux River curving her lips.

Making love with Creed Fortune was everything she’d ever imagined and more. It had fulfilled every one of her adolescent fantasies, not to mention more than a few of the hopes and dreams she’d envisioned since becoming an adult.

For the first time, she was glad she hadn’t slept with another man, even Brad. She hadn’t realized what she was really doing all those years, but she’d inadvertently been saving herself for Creed, and for that she could never be sorry.

She knew better than to think everything would be perfect from this moment on. Creed wasn’t going to ask her to marry him in the next five minutes, or declare his undying love.

This was a start, though. They may have put the cart before the horse in their personal relationship by sleeping together before they’d ever even been out on a date, but there was time for all of that.

Time to get to know each other better—really get to know each other. Time to go out, have fun and get the family used to the idea that they were going to be together.

It would come as quite a surprise to the Fortunes, she imagined, including her mother. But they all loved her and Creed, and as long as they were happy, she knew they would offer their support wholeheartedly. She hoped so, anyway.

The important thing was that this was the beginning. The beginning of everything she’d ever wanted, and for the first time, she realized she could have it.

Delight coursed through her veins and her grin widened. It was all she could do to keep from giggling aloud.

She couldn’t remember ever being so happy. And she would make Creed happy, too, she swore she would.

Above her, he shifted slightly, slipping out of her and rolling to his side. Cool air brushed the perspiration dotting her skin, and she immediately missed his weight, his warmth.

With a groan, he sat up, rubbed his fingers through his hair, then stood and headed for the adjoining bathroom. She heard the water running for a second, then he was back, in all his naked glory. He stalked across the room, and she took the opportunity to admire him every step of the way.

Expecting him to rejoin her, she shimmied toward the head of the bed, rearranging the pillows and crawling under the covers, leaving plenty of room for him to crawl in beside her. They would probably cuddle a bit first, maybe take a nap, then hopefully make love all over again. She couldn’t wait.

Instead he bypassed the bed altogether, bending to retrieve his jeans from the floor. Without a word he stepped into them, adding his shirt and boots in short order.

Her brows met in a frown. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t bother to meet her gaze as he finished buttoning the pine-green shirt, tucking it into the waistband of his pants.

“I’m leaving.”

“Leaving?” Clutching the sheet to her breasts, she scrambled forward, climbing to her knees. “What do you mean you’re leaving? I thought…” She’d thought so many things, but she settled for, “I thought you’d at least stay the night.”

“Why would I stay? Now that I’ve gotten you out of my system, I can leave you alone. Get on with my life.”

He finished rolling the sleeves of his shirt to just below the elbows, finally glancing in her direction. “Good night, Maya.”

Then he turned and walked out of the bedroom.

She could hear his footsteps in the hall, pounding down the steps and through the rest of the house. A second later the front door slammed, sending a shiver down her spine.

She sat frozen, unable to believe what had just happened. He’d made love to her, made her believe he cared, that they had a future together, and then walked out. He’d gotten dressed and walked out as if she meant nothing to him.

She felt stunned, her heart squeezing painfully inside her chest.

Drawing her knees up, she buried her face in the wrinkled sheet and wept.

Chase stood on Maya’s front porch, leaning against the closed door with his eyes tightly closed.

He hoped she didn’t chase after him. He didn’t want to see her again, not right now.

For one thing, there was nothing left to say. It might have sounded harsh, but what he’d told her back in her bedroom was the absolute truth: succumbing to his baser instincts meant he could move past the almost obsessive longing he’d always felt when he was near her.

Now that he’d been with her, the mystery was solved. Any questions he might have been harboring about what she would look like naked, how her skin would feel beneath his hands and mouth, what sounds she would make when he was inside her, had been answered.

For another, he wasn’t entirely sure he could look at her right now and not be sorely tempted to make love to her again. He was a man, after all, and the last he’d seen Maya, she hadn’t been wearing anything more than a thin white sheet, which would be easy enough to dispense with.

Shaking off erotic images that were beginning to reheat his blood, he pushed away from the door and headed for his car.

What the hell had gotten into him, to touch her at all? How could he have let things get so out of control?

He’d wanted her for a decade, lusted after her in a way no stepbrother had any business lusting. But he’d never, ever intended to act on those desires, and he thought he’d done a pretty good job of hiding them from Maya and everyone else.

Starting the engine, he flipped on the headlights and pulled away from the curb, heading home. He needed a good night’s sleep, and maybe a nice, stiff drink to clear his head and make sense of what he’d done not twenty minutes before.

She was off-limits. Forbidden. She always had been. If they’d ever crossed the lines of impropriety, the scandal would have been huge.

He took a hand off the wheel, scrubbing it roughly over his face. Dammit, it would be huge, if anyone ever found out what had taken place tonight.

Which meant it couldn’t happen. No one could find out.

He would never intentionally do anything to bring shame or undue attention to his family, so he certainly wasn’t going to tell anyone. And he doubted Maya would, either.

So all he had to do now was keep his hands to himself.

Using his pass key, he opened the electronic gate of the underground garage at the Dakota Fortune office building and pulled his dark-blue Mercedes S-class into his personal parking spot near the elevators. His brother Case had a reserved space right beside his own, but except during business hours, it mostly stood empty these days.

The same could be said of Case’s apartment, across the hall from Creed’s. The top floor of Dakota Fortune had been split into two separate living areas, which the brothers had occupied after moving out of the Fortune Estate and taking over as copresidents for the family company.

Of course, Case was now happily set up in a house just outside Sioux Falls with his wife, Gina. She’d inherited her childhood home when her father died, and after living in an apartment in town for a while, they’d moved onto the larger estate and begun a few renovations. They were also expecting their first child at the end of the year.

Creed was happy for them, truly he was, but he had to admit he missed running into his brother in the hall between their two front doors. Or only having to cross that small space in order to talk to him.

His brother’s willing ear and sage advice would certainly come in handy at the moment, though he imagined Case’s response to Creed’s dilemma would be much the same as he’d already concluded on his own.

Stay away from Maya. Chalk up tonight’s activities to scratching a long-standing itch, then put it behind him and move on.

Not a problem. He’d pretty much made that decision even before he’d rolled off the bed at Maya’s house and made his hasty exit.

And a few shots of scotch could only bolster his determination, he thought, as he let himself into his apartment and headed straight for the liquor cabinet.

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