Into His Private Domain Read online

  “I don’t feel happy,” he admitted grudgingly. He lifted her up and down, rubbing his considerably aroused shaft against the spot he so badly wanted to feel, to see, to fill. “You’ve messed up my life, Gracie. Made me question things I’ve never questioned before.”

  She dropped her head back against the wood, baring her slender, delicate neck to his mouth. Skin that tasted like strawberries. “You’ll be fine when I’m gone,” she whispered.

  The regret in her words hurt something deep inside his chest. He pushed the pain away. He knew how to do that…had been doing it for twenty-five years. “I’m not fine now.” The words ripped from a throat raw with suppressed emotion. He dropped her to her feet and unzipped her jeans, dragging them and her panties down her legs.

  “Gareth.” She had her hands behind her, braced on the door. Nothing about her posture suggested that he stop what he was doing.

  “Lift your arms.”

  She obeyed instantly, but protested. “Somebody could walk in…”

  “Not today. I swear. Relax. We’re alone.” He was having trouble stringing words together coherently. When he had her naked, he stopped breathing and just looked at her. Narrow waist. Flaring feminine hips. Small but perfect breasts. A neat fluff of red-gold hair between her slender thighs.

  She folded her arms across her chest, gnawing her lower lip. “It’s embarrassing that only one of us is wearing clothes.” Clearly she was trying for sophisticated humor, but her cheeks were fiery red.

  He moved her arm and touched one breast, circled the pale pink nipple, watching in fascination as it tightened. “I’ll catch up. But first, let me enjoy the view.” He bent his head and tasted her there, sucking gently until Gracie cried out.

  Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “Shouldn’t we go to your bedroom…or mine…?”

  He unfastened his pants and freed himself, hardly able to touch the tight, sensitive skin. “No time,” he groaned, desperately glad he had stuffed a condom in his pocket. He couldn’t fool himself. This was what he’d had in mind since he awoke hard and hungry that morning.

  He rolled on the protection, wincing when Gracie brushed her hand over him intimately.

  She touched his cheek with gentle affection, almost unmanning him. “I want you so much,” she said softly. “You make me shake with it. I look at you and I melt inside.”

  He lifted her a second time, aligning their bodies, probing at her slick entrance with the head of his shaft. “I need you, Gracie.” The confession was wrung from him…and he regretted it almost immediately. But in the bliss of burying himself deep inside her, he ignored the thought.

  He forged the physical connection, meeting no resistance, relishing the snug, tight fit. All the way to the head of her womb, heartbeat to heartbeat. He resented the condom that separated them. Wanted to fill her with his seed, mark her at the most primitive level.

  Her forehead rested on his, her breathing ragged. “I won’t ever forget this,” she whispered. “I won’t ever forget you.”

  Again, the understanding of deferred pain hovered just out of reach. He shook his head, refusing to think beyond this moment. “Don’t talk, Gracie. Let me make you come.”

  He thrust hard, banging her bottom against the unforgiving door in a reckless rhythm. She chanted his name. “Gareth. Gareth. Gareth.” Her arms tightened around his neck in a stranglehold. “Don’t stop,” she panted. “Please don’t stop.”

  As if he could. Blinded now, eyes closed, he felt the end barreling toward him. His hips flexed. He felt Gracie’s inner muscles clench in orgasm as he shouted his release. All the oxygen departed his lungs. His brain exploded.

  Afterward, staggering, he shuffled them down the hall toward his room, her body clinging to his like a limpet, his legs trembling as he tried to find a handhold on reality.

  Gracie had amnesia. Even after an interlude that left her reeling with weepy joy. But she was pretty sure no one had ever banged her against a door, pardon the pun.

  For a moment, when Gareth entered her, a flash of some sweet memory tangled with the present urgency. She was no virgin. There had been at least someone in her life before. She was sure of it. But memory or no memory, she was positive no one had ever made her feel the way Gareth did. No one had ever made her want with such intensity.

  She was torn between wanting to giggle and battling a barrage of inexplicable, hot-behind-the-eyes tears. They didn’t fall. She blinked them back with dogged ferocity. She had Gareth. For this moment in time, he was hers.

  When he dumped her on the bed and dropped facedown beside her, she rolled to look at the clock. “We’re going to be late.”

  He half lifted his head, blinked in the direction she pointed and groaned. “They’ll wait…”

  “They who?”

  His muffled answer segued into a gentle snore. Allowing herself sixty seconds to snuggle against him, she heaved a deep sigh, slid out of bed and scuttled into the hall.

  The unmistakable evidence of their spontaneous combustion met her gaze. Panties here, bra there… No one could mistake what had happened. She retrieved her clothing and ran for her room, locking the door and leaning against it with a frantically beating heart.

  No one was around to witness her chagrin. She was all alone. But she shivered nonetheless. Gareth continued to surprise her.

  She made quick work of a shower and dug into the new bounty Annalise had provided. A navy pantsuit in silk shantung struck her as appropriate travel wear. The matching silk camisole was cream with navy piping.

  This time, Annalise had also provided a carry-on stocked with expensive cosmetics. Gracie dressed, applied makeup with a light touch, and packed up her things. The only items of any value she’d had with her when she first arrived on Wolff Mountain were her wallet and cell phone. She tucked those in a bag and went to meet Gareth.

  She wasn’t about to invade his personal domain, so she perched on a chair in the den and waited for him to show up. It wasn’t long. But when he appeared, she couldn’t hold back a blush.

  Gareth eyed her with a grumpy stare. “You left.”

  “You said we were leaving at noon. I had to get ready.”

  He surveyed her from head to toe. “Annalise has great taste, but I like you better naked.”

  She gaped at him, but shut her mouth sharply and refused to rise to the bait.

  Gareth grinned. “No comment?”

  She shook her head. “My big suitcase is in the bedroom. Everything else is right here.”

  In a matter of moments Gareth had loaded their bags into the Jeep and they were on their way. He looked strong and handsome in a crisp white dress shirt and dark slacks. The open collar and rolled up sleeves suited him.

  They took a different route this time, bypassing the cutoff to Jacob’s place and instead, climbing higher up the mountain. This was the closest she had come to the magnificent home where Gareth had spent his formative years. The enormous house was amazing.

  She knew why Gareth had not taken her there. He didn’t trust her to be around his family. And knowing that hurt. Still, she would love to see inside the massive structure. It demanded respect because of its sheer size, but it was beautiful as well.

  She could come right out and ask him to give her a tour when they got back. But given her father’s cryptic words, she didn’t want Gareth to think she had any mischief in mind. Surely her father didn’t expect her to steal the family silver or to try her hand at safe-breaking.

  It was a measure of her good mood that she could joke about it, even with herself.

  The Jeep angled sharply, and she grabbed on to the door. “You can’t tell me there’s an airstrip up here.”

  Gareth shot her an amused glance. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  They shot through an opening in the trees. Gracie’s eyes widened even as instinctive apprehension made her muscles tense. No airstrip, but instead, a helipad. The chopper itself was black and yellow. The body was sleek and shiny, w
ith lots of glass, and on the side, the words Wolff and Sons, Inc. painted in sharp relief.

  “Um, Gareth?”

  He didn’t give her time to freak out. “C’mon.”

  A uniformed attendant greeted Gareth respectfully and made short work of stowing their bags. The pilot, who had been standing nearby smoking a cigarette, gave a salute and climbed into the vehicle, starting up the rotors with a whoosh of sound.

  Gareth grabbed Gracie’s hand and helped her board, tucking her into a seat and fastening her seat belt. “Wear these,” he said, placing large noise-deadening headphones over her ears. Instantly she could hear the radio-transmitted conversation between the pilot, his copilot/attendant and Gareth.

  It was crystal clear who was boss. Though Gareth’s manner with his employees was joking and relaxed, they treated him deferentially.

  Without warning, the chopper lifted straight up into the air, hovered just long enough for Gracie to get to an incredible vantage point from which to see the house and then they were off, headed northeast and covering ground rapidly.

  Gracie was either fascinated or terrified or both. She felt like a bird, streaking high above the earth. Below her, Virginia’s fertile farm fields lay like patchwork quilts on the land. Cars were no more than ants scurrying along twisted silver highways. Lakes and rivers marked the landscape. Once she got past her initial frozen fear, she loved it.

  The copilot passed back two boxed lunches. Gareth dug into his, polishing off the chicken salad sandwich quickly and swigging a root beer. Gracie’s meal was similar, but it included her favorite lemon/lime soda and one large chocolate chip cookie. Clearly someone had studied her preferences.

  She ate a few bites and waited to see if her stomach could handle eating and flying at the same time.

  Gareth touched her hand. “You okay?” He mimed the words instead of speaking into the headset.

  She nodded. Their seats were close, their hips practically touching. He took a small blanket and tucked it around her shoulders. She appreciated the gesture, because the air was definitely cold.

  In record time, it seemed, she began to recognize what she knew as Washington landmarks. The pilot made a wide sweep over the Potomac, and soon they were descending slowly and at last settling gently as a cloud onto the rooftop of a multistory building.

  Another trio of helpful young men gathered the luggage and spirited it away. As Gareth bid farewell to the crew, Gracie frowned at the chopper. When he joined her, she waved at the lettering. “Why does it say and sons? What about your cousin? She’s a girl.”

  He chuckled, putting his arm around her waist and ushering her toward a nearby door. “Annalise is terrified of helicopters. Hates that we use one at all. She doesn’t want to have any part of it…thinks it would be bad luck to have her name or sex included.”

  Suddenly, Gracie recalled Annalise bemoaning the need for a private jet. Wow. This family could give Bill Gates a run for his money.

  Inside the hotel, the air was lightly scented, the thickly carpeted hallways silent but beautifully decorated with sconces and sparkling chandeliers. The cordial manager, a sophisticated blonde with eyes for no one but Gareth, met them in the lobby.

  She held out a hand, immaculate nails painted scarlet. “We’re delighted to see you again, Mr. Wolff. Your suite is ready for you.”

  Eleven

  Gracie disliked the woman on sight. The tall, leggy female was a little too friendly, and if Gracie had been someone important in Gareth’s life, the woman’s total lack of acknowledgment would have been insulting.

  Gareth didn’t seem to notice. He shook the woman’s hand briefly, his arm still wrapped protectively around Gracie’s waist. “Hello, Chandra. The place looks welcoming, as always.”

  She practically gushed. “How nice of you to say so. We’re always delighted to get your reservation.” She afforded Gracie a single dismissive glance. “As you requested, we’ve given you the Jefferson suite. I think you’ll find the amenities extremely comfortable. And your companion—” a little dig there “—will be equally pampered.”

  Gareth smiled lazily. “Gracie and I will be very happy, I’m sure.”

  The other woman blanched and visibly lost several degrees of confidence. Did the lovely Chandra have designs on Gareth Wolff?

  The manager grimaced slightly. “Shall I escort you upstairs? Help you get settled in?”

  Gareth nuzzled Gracie’s cheek, making no bones about his intentions. “I can handle it from here.” He took the two key cards. “Thanks, Chandra.”

  Gracie allowed herself to be propelled across the marble foyer to the small, elegant elevator. As they rode up to the penthouse floor, she studied the crimson paisley wallpaper in the enclosed space. One wall was mirrored, and in its reflection, she saw Gareth’s eyes on her. Recognized the sensual intent on his face.

  “Quit staring,” she muttered.

  “I like the view.” His lazy smile sent bubbles of anticipation sparkling through her veins.

  When the brief ride ended in a smooth stop, he stood back and waited for her to exit. For some reason, she was as nervous as a virgin bride. Their door—the only one in the hallway—was directly opposite the elevator. Gareth used the key card and opened it.

  Soft classical music drifted into the foyer from the spacious living room directly in front of them. Lavish flower arrangements, massive bouquets of everything from roses to freesias to tiny Dutch iris, graced the entrance hall cabinet, the coffee table and a duo of marble and cherry pedestals.

  Gareth put out the Do Not Disturb sign and locked the dead bolt. He tossed his wallet, phone and keys on the escritoire. “Alone at last.” His mocking half smile was perhaps self-directed, but it made Gracie’s toes curl in her Italian calfskin pumps.

  She licked her lips. “I’m impressed. Though I can’t say for sure at this point, I have a feeling that I’m a Holiday Inn Express kind of girl. You know…mass-produced artwork, breakfast in the lobby, that kind of thing. You may have spoiled me forever.”

  He took her hand. “Come look.”

  French doors opened out onto a small, private balcony hedged in with black wrought-iron grille work. To their right, the mall, decked out in spring green, stretched from the Capitol building to the Washington Monument, with all the iconic museums in between. The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, shedding warm light over tourists with cameras and joggers enjoying the gentle breeze.

  Gracie braced her hands on the railing, peeking down to the street below. “I wish I could remember if I’ve ever been here,” she said, overcome with a pensive melancholy. “It all seems so wonderfully familiar, but I suppose that might simply be the sum total of movies and television programs I’ve seen.”

  Gareth massaged her shoulders, his big body trapping hers against the metal that still held the warmth of the day’s heat. “Why does it matter either way?” he asked, his tone matter-of-fact. “Embrace the experience. Soak in the sights and sounds. Enjoy being here with me…”

  His breath was warm on her nape as he kissed the sensitive spot behind her ear. Gripping the bar at her waist, she tipped her head to one side, offering access, offering an invitation.

  Gareth wasn’t slow to accept. But his actions were circumspect at first…given their public venue. His hands grasped her hips as he nibbled a course from her ear to her collarbone. With tantalizing slowness, he reached around to unbutton her jacket and slip it from her shoulders, tossing it carelessly on a nearby patio chair.

  The spaghetti-strap chemise she wore was thin, as was the delicate ivory bra beneath. There was no hiding her excitement as he brushed the tip of first one breast and then the other. He didn’t linger. To the casual observer, they were no more than a man and a woman enjoying the fresh air.

  She felt the heat of him, the intensity. The scent of expensive aftershave—something new she hadn’t noticed before—teased her nostrils. It was a potent aphrodisiac. Mingled with the essence of the man himself, it hit her at a most basic leve
l. Speaking of abandoned pleasures and pheromones and wicked temptation…

  “When do we have to be at the senator’s home?” she croaked, trying desperately for common sense, for self-preservation. They’d had sex only a few hours before, and yet between them shimmered a need so intense she felt it as a physical pain.

  “Eight o’clock,” he murmured, caressing her bottom. “Hours from now. We have all the time we want.”

  Her body went boneless, slumping backward, moving unconsciously into his embrace. “I don’t have much time left,” she whispered. “Don’t make me wait.”

  He growled. He actually growled. The masculine sound sent gooseflesh all over her body. His chest heaved. “Inside, Gracie Darlington. Let me have my way with you.”

  Stunning her into an awed silence, he scooped her into his arms and carried her back to the luxurious room with the antique settee and the thick Persian rug. Hesitating only momentarily, he strode through the door to the right and found his own quarters, his set of bags stowed in the enormous, open armoire.

  He flipped back the chocolate duvet, slipped off her shoes and deposited her carefully on a nest of pillows. “We’ve done hard and fast,” he said, already stripping out of his clothes. “Now I’m going to make you ache, make you yearn.” He paused, magnificently naked. “Imagine that we’re all alone in the world. Nothing exists outside this suite. No phones. No meddlesome relatives. Only you and me.”

  And no memories that, when recovered, would almost surely come between them.

  The sight of Gareth’s nude body literally took her breath away. Muscle and bone and sinew combined to create a man who emanated confidence and beauty in equal measure. He was fully erect, and her mouth dried, imagining the moment when all that power would penetrate her, fill her, claim her.

  She sat up on her elbows. “I’ll pretend I have amnesia,” she teased. “The only memories I want are the ones of you and me in this room.”