“Cailin.”
Her muscles froze at the dark, seductive voice calling her name. He was close, probably in the doorway. Mortified to be caught in this position, she forced herself to stand, to place her foot on the floor, to take a deep—very deep—breath before turning her head toward Alex.
Whose gaze was riveted on her body.
Did he remember the garter? Did his hands tremble to remove it, just as hers trembled in sweet desperation for him to do so?
She kept her back firmly to him. “Alex! I didn’t know—”
Alex licked his lips, gaze sinking down her back to zero in on her mostly bare bottom, and all thought left Cailin’s head. She stood, a fierce pride beginning to well in her chest, as the man she cared for more than she should devoured her with a look. Hunger burned bright in his brown irises, firing a similar need in her core, and the tremors moved from her hands to her legs as they clamped hard against a sudden rush of liquid arousal.
Oh God, don’t let him see.
“Turn around.”
Her eyelids closed involuntarily, the gravelly sound of his voice overwhelming her, but she fought to open them, knowing there was something she needed to do, something just beyond her reach that would save her soul before she damned it for all eternity, before she gave in to her desperate desire for this man and did as he asked.
“Turn around, Cailin,” he said again.
Chapter Eight
She shook her head, refusing to look at him.
Alex stepped into the room, the sound of the door clicking shut behind him clanging like a death knell. Cailin turned then and brought her hand up to ward him off. At the sight of her barely covered breasts, however, Alex’s control seemed to break into a million tiny shards. He charged, his eyes wild, his big body a two-hundred-pound semi headed straight for her. With heart-stopping speed, he was on her, his hands lifting, carrying, until Cailin found herself against the wall, her back arching away from the tiles’ air-conditioned coolness, the force of Alex’s chest shackling her in place anyway.
“Ale—”
His tongue was in her mouth before the word was complete. Helpless, completely overtaken, Cailin surrendered. The vague sensations of limbs moving, fabric whispering, all of it was lost in the sheer relief of having his body against her, his mouth fused to hers once more. She’d felt like she would die without him, but here he was, filling her up, consuming her, bringing her to life once more. When his bare chest slammed into hers, she moaned, straining, needing to get closer. She needed to fuse herself to him, be one with him. Know he would never leave her again, not even for—
“Alex, where are you?”
The words rang in some distant part of her brain, but Alex’s lips were sliding down her neck, his mouth latching on to the lace-covered, supersensitive tip of her breast, and she was too busy squirming and thrusting her nipple deeper between his lips to pay attention to anything else. Just a little harder, a little faster. Just one more deep suck and she just might explode.
Alex growled, the sound vibrating down her nerve endings and detonating between her legs. Cailin screamed, the pleasure blinding, all-consuming, closing out everything around her—including the click of the doorknob as it turned.
“Alex, are you… Oh!”
When his mouth left her breasts, Cailin grabbed his head, trying to bring it back, needing to prolong the ripples of pleasure traveling through her body. She needed—
“Cailin!” The harsh word acted like a slap in the face. She surfaced, startled, and stared into Alex’s angry brown eyes. What had she done wrong? Another spasm jerked through her, and what seemed to be disgust twisted the corner of his mouth. Cailin turned her head, desperate to avoid the look that was seared into her eyeballs.
And met Sara Beth’s confused gaze.
Oh…God. Oh no. No. She hadn’t. She wouldn’t… But she had. A devastated sob burst from her; she tried to catch it with her palm, slapping it over her mouth to control the sound, but too late. It lingered there between the three of them, evidence of her guilt. Her humiliation. Her sick need for a man who didn’t belong to her. Closing her eyes against Sara Beth’s pain protected no one, but Cailin did it instinctively, like a child covering their eyes so an adult couldn’t find them. Her mind knew Sara Beth still stood in the doorway, gaze taking in her husband holding another woman—a mostly naked woman—but logic fled, and all she could do was hide, even if only behind her tight, wet eyelids.
“Cailin, shhh, it’s all—”
No, she couldn’t take that from him. She had to get away, get out of this room, get covered. She began to fight him, clawing like a wildcat, twisting, desperate to escape, to lick her wounds in private.