Millionaire in Command(22)

The judge had awarded Bianca one-night-a-week  temporary visitation with  Nina, starting today. The judge had given them  the next month to  gather information or work out an agreement before he  revisited the  case.

Thank God for Sebastian's artful  negotiations or things might have  played out so much worse. He'd managed  to wedge in a provision. Kyle  would pay Bianca's expenses and hire a  nanny to stay with Bianca and  Nina during the twenty-four-hour  visitations. At least they had the  reassurance the baby would be cared  for, and Bianca couldn't skip town  with Nina. They'd all stayed at the  courthouse until arrangements had  been made with the sitter they'd used  during their D.C. trip.

He'd done everything possible for now.  And still, it didn't quiet the  roaring inside him. The sun sank as hard  and fast as his gut. What if  they still lost Nina? The love he felt for  his daughter slammed through  him all the more once he had to watch  Bianca walk away with his little  girl. Seeing the devastated expression  on Phoebe's pale face at the  loss had only hammered home his failure.

His  headlights swept around the next curve, sharper than he'd expected,  and  he forced himself to slow down. He wouldn't be any good to Nina or   Phoebe if he totaled the car. His hands shook so hard he decided to  pull  off the deserted road until he regained control of the fears   broadsiding him.

Kyle guided the sedan onto a secluded parking  area sandwiched between  dunes with towering sea oats. The wind tore in  off the ocean, bits of  spray pinging on the windshield.

His hands  fisted against his knees, tighter, tighter again as if he  could somehow  hold back the swelling frustration inside him. Muscles  tensed and  bunched up his arm until he slammed his fist against the  dashboard with a  curse.

He welcomed the bolt of pain that shot up his arm. He  considered giving  the leather a second go … until he saw the tears  streaking down Phoebe's  face.

Ah, hell. Those tears hurt him far more than if he'd broken his hand. "I'm sorry, Phoebe, so damn sorry."

Sorry  for more things than he could even put into words right now. He   gathered her against his chest, and she didn't even protest, just sagged   against him. A choking sob caught in her throat. She gripped his suit   coat until her fingers dug into his shoulders, the same fears and  frenzy  radiating from her that he felt inside himself. He thumbed away  two  tears streaking down her cheek, rested his head against her brow,   murmuring whatever consoling words he could scavenge out of his own   stark arsenal.

Phoebe burrowed closer, turning her face toward  his caress, toward him.  "Touch me," she whispered, her voice hoarse and  agonized, "hold me,  make the emptiness go away."

Kyle stilled. She couldn't possibly be suggesting they …

But  then she pressed a kiss into his palm, her lips moving against him  as  she spoke, "I can't stand one more moment thinking about what  happened. I  need you to give me something else, something wonderful, to  think  about."

All his frustration gathered force with a purpose-giving  Phoebe the  distraction, the outlet, even a momentary relief from the  pain. He  guided her face up to his. Their mouths brushed. Held.

Phoebe's  fists unfurled from his suit coat and her fingers crawled  across his  back to clamp him closer. Passion exploded inside him,  feeding off all  the frustrated emotions that had stockpiled within him  since Bianca's  out-of-the-blue call. Hell, since Phoebe had shut him  down after sex in  the airplane.

Kyle slid his hands up to cup her face, to fit  their lips more surely  against each other, to deepen the kiss and  contact and connection. All  the frenzy of the day channeled into the  moment, seeking an outlet.

He grazed his fingers down her back to  cradle her hips, guiding her  onto his lap the way he'd fantasized about  doing when they'd made out  by the shore in the Aston. But, where that  night had been about  seduction, this moment was about release.                       
       
           



       

She  slid over his legs, her pink-cotton wraparound dress bunching up  around  her hips. The fabric parted along the side at the wrap, exposing  her  rose-colored panties. He slipped his fingers along both hips,  twisting  the silky fabric until the underwear … snapped. He brushed aside  the  scraps until she pressed against him, moist and hot.

She  sprinkled desperate kisses along his mouth, his jaw, nipping and   tempting with her tongue and teeth. The last rays of sun faded. The dusk   of night sealing them in darkness, heightening his other senses as he   inhaled her vanilla scent mixed with the musk of sexy want.

Her  panting breath synced up with his. Phoebe tore at his belt, making  fast  work of his fly and freeing him from his boxers. She stroked him,   already throbbing and hard in her hand. The touch of her cool fingers   spiked his need. He clenched his teeth, scavenging for bits of his   shredded control long enough to fish his wallet from his back pocket.   His eyes adjusting to the dark, he plucked out a condom.

She  rocked her hips against him, her body bare and welcoming. His jaw   flexed, his throat moving in a slow swallow as his lashes went heavy for   an instant and he fought the urge to close his eyes.

He tore open the packet. "Wait."

"No patience tonight." She snatched the birth control from his hand.

"I agree."

"Now shh … " She rolled the condom along the length of him, urgently, efficiently.

Phoebe  straddled his lap, kneeling over him as she positioned herself.  He  cupped her buttocks and guided her down on him until they sat  together,  connected. Cradling her in his palms, he thrust and she  writhed and they  moved in tandem, knowing each other's bodies and needs  better this  time.

She squeezed her arms tighter around him, echoing the clasp  inside as  well that urged him closer and closer to completion as surely  as her  breathy moans and sighs and demands for more, harder, faster.  Now.

Wind rolled in off the ocean, carrying salt and sea spray  through the  vents. Their mating was raw and sweaty and intensely  consuming. It went  beyond sex. It was different being with Phoebe, and  that scared the  crap out of him, because if she left, nothing would be  the same,  nothing would be as good.

Her moans grew louder, louder  till the sound of pleasure filled the  car. She clawed at his shoulders,  anchoring herself deeper as he  watched the shadows play across her  face, watched her come apart. Her  breasts thrust forward with the  powerful arch of her spine again and  again, her neck exposed in a  graceful arch. He felt the damp strength  of her release. She contracted  around him, massaging him … over … the edge.

His head dropped against  the seat rest. He rode the surging release  rolling in wave after wave  of expanding explosions. He wasn't even sure  anymore if the roaring in  his ears came from the ocean or his own  body.

He combed his  fingers through her hair, her face tucked against his  neck. They hadn't  solved anything out here by the ocean, but at least  she wasn't crying  anymore.

He dropped his chin to rest against her head.

Damn  it all to hell, what a time to understand her powerful connection  to  her dead husband. Because right now, Kyle knew he would find a way  to  make her love him, no matter how long it took.



Phoebe had to do something, anything.

The  pure helplessness of waiting to see Nina home again safe and sound  was  eating her alive. Sitting cross-legged on her bed, she clicked  through  the keys on her laptop computer, surfing the Internet for  anything she  could find on child-custody battles. She needed to arm  herself with as  much knowledge as possible. Kyle, too, had his laptop  out, but he'd set  up on the patio outside her suite. Only a few more  hours and they would  pick up Nina.


Neither of them had strayed far from Nina's  room. Did he feel closer to  their daughter here, too? She couldn't even  hazard a guess. Since  they'd made such frantic love in his car, Kyle had  completely shut  down. He'd spent most of the night working at his  computer, even after  his family had returned. He'd surprised her when  he'd climbed in bed  with her at about two in the morning, making slower,  more thorough love  to her with his body, his mouth, his words, but said  nothing about his  own needs or pain. But being with him hadn't  distracted her from  worrying about Nina as much as it had rocked her to  the core.