Winning Wyatt (The Billionaire Brotherhood Book 1) by Jacie Floyd Page B

Bang created the universe,
and we’re all the masters of our own fate.”
    She
heard the cautious tone lacing his words. “I’m not suggesting that our being
here together has been decreed by the gods.” Nipping his neck, she wiggled her
chest against his. “It’s just that you were so exactly what I needed at this
precise moment in my life that it would be nice to think our paths crossed for
a reason.”
    “Some
ships do bump into each other rather than pass unnoticed in the night.” He
kissed his way down her throat, easing the robe apart. “But that’s all the
coincidence that I’ll allow.”
    “You
call what we did earlier bumping into each other?” Kara tilted her head,
granting his mouth better access. “I shudder to think what you’d consider a
head-on collision.”
    “Then
hold onto your hat, darlin’.” His hand moved from her breast to the hollow of
her stomach. “You’re about to find out.”
    He
tasted, touched and caressed all of the most sensitive spots he’d discovered
earlier, and she returned touch for touch, taste for taste. His hands and lips
sought her breasts. From there, his mouth moved lower to accomplish a
shattering explosion that should have slaked her need, but only pushed her
further from satisfaction.
    Kara
writhed under him and over him, physically demanding that their bodies be
united. His golden eyes gleamed hotly when he at last thrust inside her.
    “Now,”
he commanded, repeating his earlier words of invitation, “come with me.”
    The
resulting orgasm was long and hard and their voices echoed through the night
and into the faraway heavens.
    And
quiet tears coursed down Kara's cheeks.
    When
her breathing and pulse steadied, she turned and looked at him. His face had
that watchful expression again, as if he believed he could divine all her
secrets just by staring at her. And maybe he could.
    He
toyed with a lock of her hair, rubbing it between his fingers. “I’ll take you
into town whenever you say,” he said, and her heart plummeted. “Or you can stay
here for the night.”
    The
firm hold he had on her belied his offer to let her go, but his expression
remained impassive. She didn’t want to return to her isolation yet. Not when
she’d just been set free. But she owed him so much, she wouldn’t overstay her
welcome.
    “I'd
like to stay,” she said, ready to amend her answer if he seemed displeased.
    “Good.”He
favored her with an approving smile that was so beautiful she wouldn’t have
been surprised to hear angels singing.

    Waking
up with her Mystery Man at dawn moved her as powerfully as making love with him
at sunset. Wearing a borrowed get-up of T-shirt, sweat pants, and shoes he
claimed belonged to his sister, Kara explored the first floor of his cabin. The
house didn’t have the coordinating feel of a professional decorator, but no
expense had been spared, and eclectic styles blended together to make for a
satisfying whole.
    A
soft leather couch resided under a wide window. Sitting opposite it were two
sturdy chairs covered in the deep colors of a French tapestry. A driftwood
coffee table supported an interesting sculpture and rested on a dhurrie rug.
Floor to ceiling bookshelves rose on each side of a stone fireplace accented
with a thick, rough-hewn mantle.
    Force
of habit drew her toward the artwork hanging on the walls. An original Andrew
Wyeth. One of Mondrian's sketches. A Kandinsky oil. She wondered what kind of
collection he must have at his primary residence if this was what he displayed
at a weekend home.
    She
lifted the twisted piece from the coffee table and looked at the signature. S.
Davenport. Excellent craftsmanship but not in the category of the other
artists.
    Two
photographs graced the shelves in the corner, tucked among a dizzying array of
books. One of the pictures had Wyatt posed between a boy who bore him a
remarkable resemblance and an attractive dark-haired woman. Closing a mental
door on a flash of unease, Kara turned away