Celia.
His father was making his way through the crowd toward Evan and Lucy, but Celia was nowhere to be seen. Frowning, Evan scanned the room until finally he found her.
She was dancing with Mitchell. She didn’t look altogether thrilled, but Mitchell was smiling as he held Celia close.
Irrational anger exploded over Evan. All he could see was that it was Bettina all over again, only this time it mattered. This was Celia. His Celia.
His brother was a slimy predator. Never mind that Celia was perfectly capable of fending off any advances. He didn’t even imagine she’d ever be receptive to an overture on Mitchell’s part. But the fact that his brother would behave this way at his own wedding celebration enraged Evan.
His woman. He let Bettina go because she was never his. Celia was his even if she hadn’t recognized that little fact.
Not stopping to think how it would look to others, he cut a path through the crowd that had people exclaiming on either side of him. When he got to Mitchell and Celia, he reached for his brother’s arm and spun him around.
“What the—” Mitchell began.
His eyes narrowed angrily, but Evan stopped him with a look.
“You’ll excuse us, Mitchell. I find I’ve spent entirely too much time away from my fiancée.”
Celia stared at both brothers in shock but didn’t utter a single protest when Evan all but dragged her out of the ballroom and into the hallway.
The predator had been unleashed. No way he’d stand by and watch his brother move in on what he considered his.
He stalked toward the elevator, his only thought to get Celiaas far away from everyone else as possible. He punched the button and hauled her inside. As soon as the door closed, he slammed her against the back wall and angled his mouth over hers.
It was like a fuse igniting. Desire sizzled down his spine, frying every nerve ending in its path. He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t sure he had it in him. He devoured her. Claimed her.
She gasped for breath, and he stole it as soon as she could gain it back.
“Evan, what on earth…”
The question ended on a moan as his mouth slid down her jaw to her neck. He sucked hungrily at the soft skin just below her ear.
Behind him the doors opened and without taking his mouth from her skin, he maneuvered them down the hall toward their suite.
He was on fire. He had no rational thought. His only instinct was to take her. To make her understand she belonged to him. Only to him.
Her eyes were dazed when he leaned her against the wall next to the door. His hands shook as he rummaged in his pocket for the key. It took two times before he inserted it correctly and as soon as the lock released, he threw open the door, held it with his foot and reached for her again.
This time she did her share of grabbing. Amid the turmoil of his jumbled, raging lust, relief hit him hard. She was with him. She wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her.
He tore at her clothing. Then he tore at his. Shoes and shirts hit the floor, leaving a trail across the floor to his bedroom.
By the time the backs of her knees hit the edge of his bed, she was down to just her bra and panties. Not just underwear. Pink, delicate, frothy confections that accentuated every curve and swell. Her breasts bulged and plumped upward over the cups. He could see a hint of her aureole and it was driving him crazy.
His fingers fumbled with his pants. Her hands tangled with his as they both shoved downward.
“God, Celia.” He couldn’t catch his breath long enough to say what he wanted. “I always swore when I made love to you I’d savor you for hours. I told myself I’d take my time touching and kissing every inch of your body. But I swear, if I don’t get inside you soon, I’m going to explode.”
“Fast is good,” she panted. “We can do slow later.”
“Thank God.”
He fell forward, taking her with him. They both hit the bed, and she absorbed the shock of his body melding to hers.
“I’ll savor
His father was making his way through the crowd toward Evan and Lucy, but Celia was nowhere to be seen. Frowning, Evan scanned the room until finally he found her.
She was dancing with Mitchell. She didn’t look altogether thrilled, but Mitchell was smiling as he held Celia close.
Irrational anger exploded over Evan. All he could see was that it was Bettina all over again, only this time it mattered. This was Celia. His Celia.
His brother was a slimy predator. Never mind that Celia was perfectly capable of fending off any advances. He didn’t even imagine she’d ever be receptive to an overture on Mitchell’s part. But the fact that his brother would behave this way at his own wedding celebration enraged Evan.
His woman. He let Bettina go because she was never his. Celia was his even if she hadn’t recognized that little fact.
Not stopping to think how it would look to others, he cut a path through the crowd that had people exclaiming on either side of him. When he got to Mitchell and Celia, he reached for his brother’s arm and spun him around.
“What the—” Mitchell began.
His eyes narrowed angrily, but Evan stopped him with a look.
“You’ll excuse us, Mitchell. I find I’ve spent entirely too much time away from my fiancée.”
Celia stared at both brothers in shock but didn’t utter a single protest when Evan all but dragged her out of the ballroom and into the hallway.
The predator had been unleashed. No way he’d stand by and watch his brother move in on what he considered his.
He stalked toward the elevator, his only thought to get Celiaas far away from everyone else as possible. He punched the button and hauled her inside. As soon as the door closed, he slammed her against the back wall and angled his mouth over hers.
It was like a fuse igniting. Desire sizzled down his spine, frying every nerve ending in its path. He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t sure he had it in him. He devoured her. Claimed her.
She gasped for breath, and he stole it as soon as she could gain it back.
“Evan, what on earth…”
The question ended on a moan as his mouth slid down her jaw to her neck. He sucked hungrily at the soft skin just below her ear.
Behind him the doors opened and without taking his mouth from her skin, he maneuvered them down the hall toward their suite.
He was on fire. He had no rational thought. His only instinct was to take her. To make her understand she belonged to him. Only to him.
Her eyes were dazed when he leaned her against the wall next to the door. His hands shook as he rummaged in his pocket for the key. It took two times before he inserted it correctly and as soon as the lock released, he threw open the door, held it with his foot and reached for her again.
This time she did her share of grabbing. Amid the turmoil of his jumbled, raging lust, relief hit him hard. She was with him. She wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her.
He tore at her clothing. Then he tore at his. Shoes and shirts hit the floor, leaving a trail across the floor to his bedroom.
By the time the backs of her knees hit the edge of his bed, she was down to just her bra and panties. Not just underwear. Pink, delicate, frothy confections that accentuated every curve and swell. Her breasts bulged and plumped upward over the cups. He could see a hint of her aureole and it was driving him crazy.
His fingers fumbled with his pants. Her hands tangled with his as they both shoved downward.
“God, Celia.” He couldn’t catch his breath long enough to say what he wanted. “I always swore when I made love to you I’d savor you for hours. I told myself I’d take my time touching and kissing every inch of your body. But I swear, if I don’t get inside you soon, I’m going to explode.”
“Fast is good,” she panted. “We can do slow later.”
“Thank God.”
He fell forward, taking her with him. They both hit the bed, and she absorbed the shock of his body melding to hers.
“I’ll savor
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