His head lowered. Her eyes narrowed to slits and she let out a breathy, feminine sigh of anticipation.
“Evan, you’ve monopolized her long enough.”
His father’s voice boomed in his ears and Evan jumped, sending Celia away from him for a brief
moment.
Marshall stood there expectantly. “Going to let me cut in?”
Evan slipped Celia’s hand into his father’s. “Of course. Just don’t keep her for long.”
Marshall chuckled as he spirited Celia away. “One dance won’t kill you, son.”
Evan watched his dad whirl Celia across the floor. In a word, she was magnificent. She laughed at something he said and her smile lit up the entire room. She sparkled.
“Quite a woman,” Mitchell drawled.
Evan stiffened and turned to see his brother standing there, drink in hand.
“Where’s the bride-to-be?” Evan asked. “Didn’t figure she’d let you out of her sight until the vows are spoken.”
Mitchell shrugged. “She’s over with Mom, talking about the honeymoon arrangements.” He looked again at Celia and their father. “You’re marrying her for real?”
“Is there some reason I shouldn’t?” Evan asked mildly.
“Doesn’t seem your type.”
Evan regarded his brother with curiosity. “And what is my type?”
“Someone like Bettina. You seemed pretty hung up on her.”
“I think it’s safe to say I’m not hung up on Bettina.”
“I can see why you’re attracted to her,” Mitchell said.
“Who?” Evan demanded sharply.
“Celia.”
Both men stared across the room to where Celia danced with Marshall.
“She’s a beautiful woman. I bet she’s awesome in bed.”
Evan rounded furiously on his brother. “You shut the hell up. Don’t even breathe her name again. You got it?”
Mitchell smiled and backed away, holding his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I get it. You’re awfully touchy about her. Funny, you weren’t that pissed when you found out about Bettina.”
Mitchell sauntered off and Evan turned away, angry that he’d let his brother goad him.
“Evan, there you are.”
He sighed when his mom latched on to his arm and dragged him over to introduce him to people he had zero interest in and would never see again in his life. After several minutes of pleasantries, Evan grew restless. The song ended, and he turned in search of 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 Celia as 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 br**sts 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.”