Vivian Arend - High Passion

Devon lifted her onto the riser at the side of the shower and caught her knee, raising her leg to the side. “Oh, so that’s what that little demand to be controlled was about. You were having delusions.”

He pressed her shoulders to the shower wall and adjusted his position until his cock rubbed her sex, her hand still grasping him.

“You have a step in the shower to make sex easier?”

Devon slipped the head of his cock into her, then paused. His right hand pressed to the wall beside her head, his smile dazzling her. “Previous owner. There are all kinds of modifications to the house I’m pretty sure his parents had no idea what they were for.”

“Enough talk. Fuck me already.” The instant the words slipped out, she knew she’d made a mistake.

Devon raised a brow.

Alisha lowered her head, fighting to keep the begging words from escaping. Then she stared up from under her lashes, forcing herself to resist pulsing her hips forward to take his cock into her body. “Please?”

Instead, he stayed like that, only partially in her. Just enough that she felt him there, needing more, desperate for him not to retreat farther.

She squeezed her internal muscles and he hummed happily against her lips, where he’d moved in for a gentle kiss. “I love women with great muscle control.”

Alisha moaned in complaint. “Can I touch myself?”

“No.” He flexed his hips and his cock spread her farther. “What else?”

She struggled to breathe. “Can I touch you?”

“No, hands to the wall.”

Her palms slapped the tiles so fast and hard the sound echoed in the enclosure. As a reward, he moved again, rocking an inch forward before retreating.

“Oh, yes.” Alisha closed her eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on the feel of him pulsing slowly in and out of her body. He held her right leg to the side, and with her arms wide she was perfectly braced. The only connection point between them were his hand on her knee and his cock relentlessly spreading her again and again.

She was pinned to the wall like some kind of butterfly specimen. The image made her smile as he thrust harder, burying his entire length deep.

The shower still soaked them. From the living room, the sounds of yet another musical drifted down the hall. The aroma of peaches and the lingering taste of toothpaste—everything invading her senses faded into the background, and his cock became all she could concentrate on. The orgasm that had hovered for so long drew closer, and as he quickened his pace, she lost control. Lost the desire to demand from him. Just waited for the moment when he’d take her there.

Nearly violent pleasure broke over her and Alisha called out his name. Devon adjusted his angle and went even deeper, pushing her further, taking her higher. He stopped, buried deep, and caught her behind the neck.

She stared into his face as he joined her, her climax triggering his. His eyelids fell partway as his release jolted out.

He pressed their lips together and she kissed him hungrily, twining her arms around his neck and shaking with extended pleasure. The slow buildup had brought her to a place she’d never been before, and the trip back to normality would take a while.

His caresses slowed. He lowered her limb carefully. His cock was still buried inside her as the water smoothed over them both. Heart rates dropping, smiling around kisses.

Alisha wasn’t in control right now, and it had never felt so right.

Devon wondered if he was the one going crazy. They’d fumbled through drying off, tumbling onto the bed in a nearly exhausted heap, and pulled the quilts up before passing out.

After their work that day a nap wasn’t out of place, but waking up beside a naked Alisha made emotions rise he really didn’t want to deal with.

He shouldn’t allow himself, but he couldn’t stop staring. Her hair was spread over his pillows, her fingers curled around his biceps as if she were trapping him in place. Their legs were tangled together enough that if he wanted to leave she’d probably wake up, and he couldn’t bear that.

In the distance a cell phone rang, and Alisha’s lashes fluttered as she woke. “Shit. That’s mine.”

Devon stroked away a strand of hair that had fallen across her face. “Mine isn’t going off, so it’s not a call-out, although they’d be crazy to try to get us out twice in one day anyway. Whoever it is will leave a message. You can call them back.”

She took a deep breath and stretched, rubbing lazily against him. “I can’t think of anyone important who’d be calling me.”

Her smile faded as a shadow crossed her eyes.

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing. Well, something, but at the same time nothing important. Not really.”

Devon laughed, stroking his fingers down her body and enjoying how she arched into his touch. “That was complete and utter gibberish. Why don’t you try again?”

She caught his hand and pulled it off where he’d gotten stuck on her breast. “I might have used your name in vain the other night. The phone call reminded me.”

“Oh, really?” He leaned on an elbow. “Did you out me to the fashion police? Sign off your excessive drink tab in my name at the Rose and Crown like Xavier tried?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I might have told someone you were my boyfriend.”

Oh, really? His mind raced as he escaped her hold and returned to teasing her skin. “Now, the other night. That limits who you might have said such a thing to. Couldn’t be any of the crew, because we’d have been teased mercilessly this morning otherwise.”

Alisha waited, a touch of something in her eyes that wasn’t quite fear but also wasn’t the bold woman he’d seen on the side of the mountain this morning.

Insight hit. “Ahhh, night as in your not-hot date with Vincent the Vampire?”

She snorted. “He doesn’t sparkle.”

“I was thinking more of the classic bloodsuckers. Wears fancy duds, has no sense of humour.” Devon sat all the way up and pulled her into his arms. “Was there a reason you needed to use my name like holy oil to fend him off?”

She wrapped her fingers around his biceps. “He was being more aggressive than I wanted. I thought if I told him I was otherwise occupied, he’d get the hint and leave me alone.”

Devon nodded. “Did it work?”

She grimaced. “Sort of.”

“How can discouraging a guy work ��sort of’?” Then Lana leapt to mind, and Devon made a face of his own. “Wait, no, I get it. People are idiots.”

“Word.” She slipped from his arms and rotated on the mattress, flipping her hair over her shoulders. She was bare from the waist up, and he was going to get all distracted in a minute, so he had to make this fast.

“I totally forgive you, and I’d be honoured to be your boyfriend. Especially if it requires a lot more fucking your brains out.”

“So classy.” She grinned. “And definitely.”

“Also, I might have thrown you under the same bus,” he confessed.

Alisha blinked in surprise. “You said you had a boyfriend?” He stared at her for a second before she broke, her deadpan delivery falling apart as she crawled across the bed to straddle his thighs. “Well, in light of the fucking and whatall that’s going on, I suppose we can use the dirty, dirty titles of boyfriend and girlfriend. Who did you out us to?”

“My sister.”

She clapped a hand over his mouth. “You did not.”

He nodded.

She rolled her eyes. “What made you think that was a good idea?”

“She was taunting me. You don’t understand Thanksgiving at my parents’,” Devon insisted when Alisha let his mouth free. “It’s like Grand Central Station, only everyone milling around is related to me, and they all have short people in tow. The only positive is since I’m the only one who doesn’t live in town, they don’t make me cook.”

“Which is probably good.”

She wasn’t frowning anymore, and that was good as well. “Yeah, well, it’s not because they’re being generous. Instead they make me bring liquor to accompany the meal, and my dad’s got some high-flying idea to try all these expensive wines before he kicks the bucket. Guess who gets stuck buying those babies, since I’m not cooking or kid-herding?”

“How does you having a girlfriend mean you get to attend without bottles in your hand?” Her eyes widened. “Oh, Devon, no.”

He followed her as she scrambled off the mattress and headed toward the door. “We just have to show up, make polite conversation, and eat until we’re stuffed enough to satisfy my mother, and then we can escape. It’s not that scary.” He paused. Considered. “Okay, it is scary, but you’re brave. You can face down your fears and help me face mine.”

She dug through her bag by the front door to pull out a pair of sweatpants. When she stood, he made sure he was looking her in the eye, and not at the more delectable bits that he really hadn’t had enough of yet.

Alisha shook her head. “You are something crazy.”

“Hey, you did it, too.”

She pulled on a T-shirt without putting on a bra first, a move he completely approved of. “I didn’t invite you to join Vincent and me for a family dinner, though, did I?”

“If I had to, I would go.” Devon nodded seriously.

She crossed her arms, her expression breaking into a smirk as she eyed him up and down. “I’m sure you would. Are you planning on staying naked all evening? We could pretend you’re my slave boy or something if that helps you stay in character.”

He didn’t give a rip that he was standing in the front hallway naked. Devon stepped in closer and pulled her to him, her soft cotton clothing heating between their bodies. “Tell me you’ll save my life.”

She caught him around the waist. “How can I turn down that adorable smile? And I did do it to you first, so you’re forgiven.”

He kissed her briefly before breaking away to get dressed. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

She pulled her phone out to check her messages, a frown returning to cloud her expression.

It was crazy, the temptation to invite her to stay. He never let anyone stay overnight. Rarely had anyone into the house for that matter. For all his playboy reputation he had a rather sedate love life, a fact that no one believed, of course.

He hurried into the living room and found her curled up on the couch with a family photo album, the one sister number two had sent him after his parents’ fortieth anniversary party. He lifted her legs and sat, lowering her limbs into his lap and tugging the album so he could see it as well.

“You went to this party in June, right?” Alisha asked. “Oh, wow, do you ever look like your father.”

“All my brothers do.”

She leaned forward. “How long has he had to use the wheelchair?”

For a second, the pain that never quite went away froze his vocal cords. Devon jerked himself under control and focused on the facts. Then on distraction. “Over fifteen years. Didn’t you meet him? He and my mom came to our grad for Banff Search and Rescue—oh, wait, you didn’t stick around for the party.”

This time she was the one who paused, just for a second. “No.”

Nothing more. No offer of why she’d vanished, no mention of why her family hadn’t come to celebrate with her. He probably wouldn’t have even noticed her hesitation if he hadn’t been so keen on changing the topic.

Devon chose to ignore her lack of sharing and go back to safer topics regarding his family.

He didn’t forget, however. He knew what he was avoiding talking about. It was far easier to focus on her and what she was hiding. The entire time he pointed out his siblings and the multiple offspring that crowded the pages of the album, he was thinking about her and her family. Google had finally coughed up a name and a business. Adding Vincent to the other information he’d skimmed from the Lifeline office had led him straight to Bailey Enterprises.

Only it didn’t make sense, her lack of connection to her family. His family was a pain at times. There was no doubt he had his hot buttons when it came to them, but his frustrations didn’t stop him from spending time with them.

Something big had to be wrong that Alisha didn’t want to be known as the heiress to one of Canada’s top ten companies.

He was torn between curiosity and minding his own business. She’d kept her background out of the spotlight for four years. She’d never ducked out of the sight of cameras, but all the focus had been on Lifeline, not her family status. He liked that.