The Wedding Party And Holiday Escapes Ultimate Collection - Кейт Хьюит Mills & Boon e-Book Collections

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behind the slippery silk. He cupped her backside and squeezed so she bit his lip. Hard.

      He gasped and jerked and for a second she thought she’d gone too far.

      “Did I hurt you?”

      His lids were heavy, eyes glassy and unfocused as he gazed down at her. “Yeah, but I liked it.”

      So she did it again. She wrapped her hands around his head, pulled him down for a kiss, and sank her teeth into his lower lip. Dillon groaned and tunneled his fingers through her hair, fisted his hands in it. He pulled her head back to look at her, hovering on the line between pain and pleasure. This time there was a smile on his face. “I’m not sure what happened to you in the past ten years, but I like it.”

      “It gets better.” She reached into his pajama bottoms and circled a hand around his erection. He mumbled a curse and his eyes rolled up. But when she tried to pull the pajamas down she only got them halfway past his hips before he caught her hand.

      “We’re outside,” he reminded her.

      She knew that. And to top it all off the light from the bedroom was silhouetting their bodies quite clearly.

      “Oh, yeah?” She shook off his hand and shoved his pajamas the rest of the way down. “What’s your point?”

      Then she was off her feet. She gasped as her back slammed hard against the villa wall beside the door. She was pinned between the door and the balcony railing, between rough stucco and Dillon’s long, lean body. He hesitated for a second, went stone still, as though he was afraid he might have gone too far.

      “Did I hurt you?” he asked.

      She wrapped her legs around his hips and ground herself against him, so he could feel how wet she was. “Yeah, but I liked it.”

      He seemed to know exactly what she wanted, and he didn’t hesitate. He drove himself inside her, hard and swift and so deep that she cried out. With pain and shock and pure ecstasy.

      Dillon pulled out, hovered there for a second, torturing her. Then he plunged forward, and she gasped as the rough wall dug into her back. She’d spent such a long time dulling her feelings, pretending they didn’t matter. Now all she wanted to do was feel. Pleasure and lust and pain. She wanted it all, right here, right now. There was no such thing as too much.

      “Harder,” she gasped and he drove hard against her, inside her. And when it wasn’t hard enough, she dug her nails into his back, dragged them across his skin. “Harder.”

      He did as she asked. He may have been the one driving, but she had her foot on the accelerator. She was still in control.

      She could feel him tensing, feel him losing it. Bit by bit.

      She was doing that to him. She was making him lose control.

      And when he took the plunge, when he shuddered and roared with release, she went over with him.

      Thirteen

      Nothing will change for you until you take control of your life and decide that you will be happy. You need movement in a positive forward direction.

      —excerpt from The Modern Woman’s Guide to Divorce (And the Joy of Staying Single)

      There were orgasms, and then there were orgasms. The kind that grabbed hold and didn’t let go until the absolute last bit of energy had been wrenched out. The kind that released so many endorphins and pheromones that it took several minutes for her body to realize it was twisted like a pretzel, to register that the tingling in her back was not from arousal, but the sharp stucco facade shredding her skin like cheddar on a cheese grater.

      “Ow.”

      Dillon lifted his head from her shoulder, where he’d dropped it a few minutes ago while he caught his breath. He shifted and she winced. “Problem?”

      “Wall…sharp.”

      Only then did she notice the grimace on his face.

      “Disengage your claws and I’ll let you down.”

      Oh, jeez! She hadn’t even realized she was still clinging to him. She loosened her grip and he eased her away from the wall and set her on her feet.

      He pulled her into the bedroom, into the light. “Turn around. Let me see the damage.”

      He examined her back and she watched him over her shoulder, trying to gauge his expression. “How bad is it?”

      “Is the dress you’re wearing for the wedding backless by any chance?”

      “Yeah, why?”

      “Then it’s bad.”

      “How bad?”

      “It looks like someone ran a belt sander across your back. And you have pieces of the wall still stuck to your skin.”

      “That would explain the pain, I guess.”

      He touched her lightly between her shoulder blades and the sting made her wince. “We need to get this cleaned up.”

      He turned her again and nudged her in the direction of the bathroom. When they were inside he switched on the light. Just like her bathroom, it was really bright with lots of mirror space. Miles of it. The floor-to-ceiling kind that screamed out each and every detail, down to the tiniest imperfection. Ivy crossed her arms over her breasts and sucked in her tummy, wishing she could suck in her hips, too. And her butt.

      Dillon had no imperfections, she noticed, as he rummaged through his shaving kit. Nope. He looked just fine. Nicely shaped butt, muscular thighs…

      He turned and crouched down to check the cupboard under the sink. She had to slap a hand over her mouth to keep from gasping in horror.

      He emerged with a first aid kit, and when he saw the look on her face asked, “What’s wrong?”

      “Your tuxedo isn’t backless, is it?”

      He turned to the mirror, inspecting the long red welts criss-crossing his back from his shoulders all the way down to his butt. “I never knew you had such a wild side.”

      She bit her lip. “Sorry.”

      He hooked a hand behind her neck, drew her to him and kissed her. Not quite passionate, but not a peck, either. “Darlin’, that was not a complaint.”

      He let her go and set the first aid kit on the bathroom counter. He rummaged through it for cotton and antiseptic. How could he be so casual? Didn’t he feel the least bit self-conscious standing there naked? She sure did.

      “Turn around.” He dabbed antiseptic on the cotton.

      “This might sting.”

      When the cool liquid touched her raw skin she tensed and sucked in a breath.

      “Sorry.” He dabbed slowly and gently, starting at the top and working his way down. She wondered what he was thinking. If he was looking at her and noticing the way her body had…spread.

      “My body has changed,” she said, in case he hadn’t noticed. So he wouldn’t suddenly look at her and think Ack, who is this cow I’ve been sleeping with? “I don’t look like I did in college.”

      “Good,” he said, looking at her in the mirror. “I’m turned on by women, not girls.”

      Oh, well, lucky her.

      He tossed the used cotton in the trash and fished out a fresh one. “Besides, you don’t really look all that different.”

      “I think your memory is failing.”

      “My memory is crystal clear,” he said, flashing a devious grin over her shoulder. “I have video.”

      Video? “What kind of video?”

      “The video,” he said.

      Her

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