The Ashtons: Walker, Ford & Mercedes: Betrayed Birthright / Mistaken for a Mistress / Condition of Marriage. Sheri WhiteFeather
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sucked on her spoon, and he wondered if she was trying to seduce him. If she was, her ploy was working. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her mouth.
He dropped his gaze and noticed her nipples through her T-shirt. “Are you cold, Tamra?”
She almost smiled. “I’m eating ice cream.”
“Want to christen the bed?”
She gave him an innocent look, then shook her head and laughed. “You’re easy, Walker.”
So she had been playing a game.
He left the desk, came closer, took away her bowl and nudged her down. “You drive me crazy.” He unzipped his jeans and slipped her hand inside. “More than crazy.”
She closed her fingers around him, and they kissed, deep and wet and slow. She tasted like chocolate, and the flavor, the sweetness, aroused him even more.
They dragged off each other’s clothes, tossing articles onto the floor, leaving cotton and denim in their wake.
She lowered her head, then used her mouth between his legs. He tugged his hands through her hair and felt his blood soar. Oh, yeah, he thought. She drove him crazy.
She paused, looked up at him and made his world spin.
Mind-blowing foreplay. Sexual surrender. He wanted it all. And he wanted it with her.
He lifted her up and kissed her, tongue to tongue, flesh to flesh. He needed to get her out of his system, to drink her in, to drain her of every last drop.
Desperate, he guzzled her like the wine he’d been reared on, getting drunk, forcing the intoxication through his veins.
But he wanted to make her drunk, too, so he went down on her, giving her the oral pleasure she’d given him.
She arched, rubbed against him and fisted the quilt.
He kept doing it, teasing her, urging her to completion.
When she stopped shuddering, he rose above her. And with one powerful thrust, he entered her. She gasped, and he went deeper, submerging himself in wetness, in warmth, in everything he craved.
Sunlight spilled into the room, making summer hues dance across the bed. They clasped hands, their fingers locking.
A bond. A connection. A feral need.
Walker wasn’t about to let go.
And neither was she. She wrapped her legs around him, holding him hostage, keeping him unbearably close.
Every cell in his body screamed for a release, but he wanted to make it last. To keep making love to her. Yet he couldn’t.
Heaven help him. He couldn’t.
Her lotion rose like a mist, filling his nostrils. The scent of seduction. Of heat, he thought. Of a life-altering orgasm.
He looked into her eyes, then let himself fall.
Hard and fast.
As hard and fast as a man could endure.
Nine
Walker’s condominium in San Francisco was in the same upscale district as Edward’s. Yet Tamra hadn’t realized it before now. But why would she? She’d only seen Walker’s driver’s license once, on the first day they’d met, and she hadn’t paid attention to his address, to the zip code that would have revealed the location.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, as they stood on his deck, overlooking a view of the city.
“Nothing. Your home is beautiful.”
“Come on, Tamra. I can tell something is bothering you. You’re acting strange.”
She took a deep breath, then shifted to look at him. They’d arrived about ten minutes ago and he’d given her the grand tour: spacious rooms, ultramodern furniture, a hot tub. Luxurious, bachelor-style living, she thought. “Edward lives about six blocks from here.”
“Jade’s father? The sperm donor?” Walker frowned, his dark eyes turning even darker. “Are you going to be thinking about him the whole time you’re here with me?”
“Of course not. It’s just a coincidence. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“The hell it doesn’t.” He turned away and scowled at the city. “Edward still upsets you. He still matters.”
“Losing my baby still matters. And this was a shock, that’s all. I hadn’t expected you to live near him.” She moved closer, trying to shed her anxiety, to control the situation, to lighten her lover’s mood. “His place isn’t as nice as yours. It’s not as high up. His view sucks.”
Walker managed a smile. “Are you trying to stroke my ego?”
“Did it work?”
“A little, yeah.” His smile turned a bit too sexy. “But stroking something else would work even better.”
She smacked his shoulder, and they both laughed. She suspected they would be tearing off each other’s clothes before the sun went down. A second later she glanced at the gazebo-framed hot tub. “I’ve never done it in one of those.”
“Really?”
“No. Have you?”
“Yes, but I’m not giving you any details. No kiss and tell.”
“That’s fine.” She didn’t want to envision other women at his condo, to create their faces, to hear their names. For now she wanted to pretend that Walker Ashton belonged to her. That he would always be her exclusive lover. Hers and hers alone.
When he gazed into her eyes, her heart jumped, playing leapfrog in her chest.
“Maybe Edward doesn’t even live around here anymore,” Walker said.
“It’s only been three years,” she responded, her voice quavering.
“A lot can happen in that amount of time.” He continued to look in her eyes. “We’ve only known each other for a few weeks.”
Sixteen days, she thought, but who’s counting?
He touched her cheek and her knees went weak. In an ordinary world, they would be little more than strangers. But their world was far from ordinary. They’d become lovers almost instantly. And now she was pretending that he belonged to her, that it was okay to make up stories, to fool her mind.
“Do you miss this city?” he asked. “Do you miss it at all?”
She shook her head, recalling the flavor of the place she’d left behind: cable cars, China Town and the Golden Gate Bridge, the roller-coaster landscape and Victorian houses, the early-morning fog.
Too many memories, she thought. The place where Jade rested in a tiny grave.
“Do you miss the reservation?” she asked him.
“I wasn’t there long enough.” He lowered his hand, skimming the ends of her hair, letting it slip through his fingers.
Already she could feel herself losing him.
Tamra nearly panicked, nearly gasped for the air that refused to fill her lungs. Was she falling in love? Only deeper this time?
Walker wasn’t Edward. He wasn’t the father of her lost child. But she wished he was. She wished they’d made a baby together.
He watched her, much too closely. “You’re upset again.”
“I don’t mean to be.”
“But you are.”
“Just hold me.” She reached for him, and he put his arms around her.
Eyes closed, she nuzzled his neck. He brought her closer,