I am such a moron, Emma told herself as she wrapped her arms around Payne’s neck and her legs around his waist. In the nanosecond after she decided to accept his dare--because that had been what it was and the self-serving wretch knew she couldn’t resist, dammit--and had closed the paper thin distance between their mouths, Payne had scooped her up and was feeding at her mouth as though she was a feast and he hadn’t eaten in...forever.

Her back banged against the door, forcing a startled oomph from her mouth which he prompted savored. One powerful arm wrapped around her waist, she felt him fumble for the doorknob behind him. The latch gave way and he stumbled forward, his mouth never leaving hers. Utterly on fire for each other, he kicked the door shut with his foot and they bounced off walls and furniture like a human pinball at the mercy of the paddles in a machine. It was mindless and thrilling and every cell in her body rejoiced with the sheer madness of what was to come.

Namely her.

Emma clawed open his shirt, then trailed a desperate kiss down the side of his jaw and onto his neck. She wanted to taste him everywhere. The sweet salty tang of his skin exploded on her tongue, making her senses sing with wild, uncontrollable need.

Payne’s big hands cupped her bottom, aligning her along the hard, jutting ridge of his arousal and he flexed against her, forcing a gasp of sheer delight out of her mouth. Her feminine muscles clenched, coating her folds with hot joy juice and her clit tingled with an achy heavy heat. She drew back long enough to tug her shirt over her head and cast it aside, and a second later, they were tumbling onto the bed. She felt it shift as he landed beside her. He was big and strong, a modern warrior, a bad-ass and for the moment, totally hers.

She almost came, just thinking about it.

Payne’s hot breath slipped over her ear, eliciting a shiver, then his tongue licked a hot path along the side of her neck. Her lids fluttered, drunk with sensation, with the scent of Man and arousal and a woodsy fragrance all his. Meanwhile, one hand had found her breast and was thumbing her budded nipple through the gauzy material of her bra.

Desperate for the feel of him, Emma grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head. The bedside lamp illuminated broad, sleek shoulders and muscles upon muscles, the perfect male form, and for one heart-stopping moment all she could do was stare...and enjoy. Her palms found his chest, slid over each and every ridge and valley, savoring the feel of his warm supple skin.

His dog-tags dangled between them and a tattoo of an eagle with a ribbon and the inscription In Memory of Danny Boy trailing from its beak had been inked upon his chest, directly over his heart. Her own squeezed for him, suddenly remembering that he’d lost a friend a little over a year ago. Danny Levinson. She had a vague memory of curly auburn hair, green eyes and a mischievous smile. It must have been a lot harder for him than she realized, Emma thought, if he’d inked a permanent memorial onto his skin. She frowned, suddenly--

“Don’t,” he said, then popped the front clasp of her bra.

Emma shivered as her bound breasts suddenly broke free. “Don’t what?”

“Analyze me.” A soft smile slid over his lips as he looked at her, making her belly all warm and muddled. “It’s insulting.”

Emma chuckled, recognizing the phrase. Then his hot mouth closed upon her puckered nipple and all thoughts of his fallen friend and the touching tattoo fled from her mind.

She could only feel.

And it was amazing.

He suckled first one breast and then the other. Long deep pulls into his mouth, then he’d lave the bud and whisper a breath across the wet peak, making her shiver. He might have been playing at her breasts, but she felt a corresponding tug deep in her womb, most particularly in the heart of her sex. It was as though a tiny thread connected the two, and by the time his talented fingers had slid down her belly, unbuttoned her jeans and forced them over her hips, Emma’s panties were drenched.

She felt his fingers slide under the elastic, then part her curls and the first brush of his thumb over her clit had her arching up against him, a silent plea for more.

He instantly accommodated.

“Mmmm,” he murmured. “So wet.”

She pushed shamelessly against his fingers, bent forward and nipped at his shoulder, then kissed the spot she’d bitten. Gratifyingly, she felt his dick jump against her thigh and satisfied smile slid across her lips. Emma quickly found the snap of his jeans and pulled the button from its closure. His zipper sang, opening his pants wider so that she could work them off his lean hips. Multitasking, she dragged his boxers right along with them. Payne lifted himself up, then shucked them off where they landed at the foot of the bed.

Mercy.

Brian Payne. Gloriously naked, grandly proportioned.

He was huge and magnificent and so beautiful it made her chest ache and her belly tip in a wild delighted roll of sexual pleasure. He was a stallion, Emma thought, her mouth alternately drying then watering. She abruptly rolled him onto his back, licked a path over his nipples, suckled him and smiled against him as a startled hiss tore from his lips. She mapped his chest, her hands greedy for the feel of him--latent power, honed to perfection. Sweet God, she wanted him.

“Tell me you have a condom,” she all but whimpered, realizing for the first time that she didn’t. She wrapped her hand around his dick and worked the slippery skin against her palm. Silk over steel.

Payne winced with pleasure. “In. My. Wallet.”

Emma snagged his jeans and threw them toward him. “Get it,” she ordered, mesmerized and focused on the part of him she wanted the most. Between her legs. “I’m playing.” Then she bent her head and pulled as much of him as she could into her mouth. Smooth as satin, he felt wonderful beneath her tongue.

Payne bucked beneath her and his thighs tensed. “Woman,” he growled, seemingly startled.

Still eating him--licking, laving and loving every inch of him--she looked up, his pulsing dick in her mouth, and her gaze tangled with his. Blue fire burned from his gaze, emboldening her even more. She ran her tongue over the engorged head, sucked up the bead of moisture leaking from there and smiled at him. “What?”

A broken chuckle bubbled up Payne’s throat and he tossed the condom toward her. “Here.”

Emma tore into the little package, pulled the condom out, then licked him again just for good measure. She heard him growl and the masculine sound eddied through her. “It’ll go on easier if it’s wet.”

She swiftly rolled it into place, then settled herself on top of him. That first image she’d had of riding him flashed through her mind, drawing a smile as slid her drenched sex over him, coating him in her own juices. The head of his penis bumped her aching clit, making her breath hitch in her throat. Reading her, Payne grasped her hips and bumped her again.

Emma pushed harder against him, braced her hands on his chest and absorbed the feeling. God, he was breath-taking. Hands down the most beautiful, sexy man she’d ever seen. And he was at her mercy, allowing her to dominate when she was certain he wanted to roll her over and take control. It was what he was accustomed to, after all, she thought, practically drunk with the power she evidently had over him.

She scored his chest with her nails, then lifted her hips and impaled herself upon him. Her vision blackened around the edges and her belly deflated in a whoosh of startled air. Sweet heaven, Emma thought, as indescribable pleasure bolted through her.

Payne’s lips peeled back from his teeth and, though it could have only been her imagination, she thought she heard his teeth crack. He flexed beneath her and she could tell that he was holding back, that he was afraid he would hurt her.

“You’re so tiny,” he said, confirming her thoughts.

Emma lifted her hips once more, then slid down the length of him, savoring every inch, every vibration between their joined bodies. “Don’t baby me,” she said, upping the tempo, riding him harder, the way she’d wanted to since the first moment she laid eyes on him. “It’s insulting.”

A flash of respect lit those blue-flame eyes and then a wicked smile caught the corner of his mouth. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ll--“ He caught her rhythm, then bent forward and caught her nipple deep into his mouth. “--try not to offend you.”

Emma laughed, felt the first spark of climax ripen in her sex. She tightened her feminine muscles around him, pumped harder and harder, creating a delicious drag and draw between their bodies. Evidently realizing that she was skating the edge of a violent orgasm, he bucked beneath her, then reached between them and massaged her clit.

She shattered.

Emma’s mouth opened in a soundless scream and her body bowed from the shock of release. So weak she couldn’t move, Payne kept up the tempo beneath her, and every thrust of him deep inside her intensified the contractions.

She collapsed on top of him, certain that she would never be able to move again, and it was at that precise moment, that he flipped her over onto her belly, dragged her hips off the mattress and plowed into her from behind. Emma gasped, her body instinctively priming for him again. He pumped harder and harder, his heavy testicles slapping against her aching flesh. It was raw and savage and thrilling and she wanted him to do it to her all night. She grunted and mewled, backed against him as he dove deeper into her body.

He made masculine sounds of pleasure, and she could feel him getting closer and closer to his own release. Impossibly, he seemed to grow even more inside of her and every hot, electrifying inch magnified her own pleasure. Whoever said size didn’t matter had never had sex with a man like Brian Payne, Emma decided. Her body made only enough room to hold him tightly and she wanted him to stay there, to remain lodged deep inside of her until the world stopped or time ended. She didn’t care. He filled her up so completely she didn’t think she’d ever feel empty again.

His arm tightened like a band around her belly and she felt him tense behind her. He made a deep growling noise low in his throat and pumped wildly, in and out, in and out, until suddenly, without warning, she came again. The tide of release pulled her under, then lifted her up, then she screamed his name and floated along the waves of bliss.

Her orgasm triggered his own and she felt him seat himself firmly inside of her. He held onto her, grew still as the climax tore through his loins and pulsed inside of her. She felt the warmth of his seed pool in the end of the condom against her womb. The heat detonated another little sparkler of pleasure and she instinctively tightened around him.

Payne kissed the middle of her back, made a grunt of pleasure, then carefully withdrew. He grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and discarded the condom, then breathing heavily, pulled her against his side.

Her gaze tangled with his and she smiled, unable to help herself. Things had just gotten a lot more complicated, but at the moment she didn’t give a damn. She was skating the high of amazing sex and Payne was looking at her with a bewildered, heavy-lidded steamy gaze that made her heart do an odd little figure-eight.

“That was--“

“Incredible,” Payne finished.

“I can come up with my own adjectives, thank you very much,” Emma told him.

“Shut-up.”

“What?”

“Shut-up. If you talk, we’ll fight and--“ He laid an arm over his eyes and chuckled softly. “--I don’t have the strength at the moment to tangle with you.”

So she’d worn him out. Immensely pleased with herself, Emma snuggled against his chest and let go a small sigh. Fatigue dragged at her lids. “Fine,” she relented with a yawn. “We’ll call another truce. But...just a short...one.”

Payne sighed into her hair. “I can be cordial if I put my mind to it.”

She smiled against his chest and fell asleep.

 

*   *   *

 

Payne came awake with a violent jolt. Dressed in a robe, her hair wet--evidently from a shower--Emma stood over him. “Sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have poked you so hard, but I couldn’t get you to wake up. Shouldn’t you be getting to your room now?”

Poked him? Getting to his room? Disoriented, Payne glanced around the room, realized it wasn’t his and a fraction of a second later--long enough for his face to heat--everything came rushing back to him. The meal, the sex. Emma’s hot little body astride his, her plump naked breasts absorbing the force of his thrusts, not to mention the most powerful orgasm he’d ever experienced in his life. His dick stirred, just thinking about it.

The last thing he remembered was pulling her to his side, telling her to shut-up, and then drifting off to sleep. That he’d fallen asleep at all was astonishing--he’d never actually slept with another person--but that he’d fallen into a deep enough sleep to miss her getting out the bed, taking a shower, then having to actually poke him to wake him up...

That was out of the realm of his immediate understanding and so far out of character, Payne wondered if he’d been possessed or had begun to suffer from multiple personality disorder.

Furthermore, it was humiliating.

He looked up and his bleary gaze connected with her expectant one. She stood over him, patiently for him to get out of her bed and go to his own room. She’d had her fun and was kicking him out, sending him on his way as though he were a toy she’d grown weary of playing with. Were he not so damned mortified, he’d be pissed. As it was, he had no one to blame but himself--when you’re dumb you gotta be tough--and levered up into a sitting position.

“I’ve gathered your clothes,” she said, indicating the neat pile in the chair.

How sweet of her, Payne thought, shooting her a bland look. Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry? He stood and had the privilege of watching those deep silvery-blue eyes of hers darken with appreciation as he strolled naked across the room. She might want him to leave, but at least she still wanted him. She was still affected by him, much the same as he was to her, and he hadn’t imagined or dreamed the wild, fantastic gorilla sex they’d just had. Considering the iffy state of his mind, he hadn’t ruled out the possibility.

Payne slipped his boxers back on, but didn’t bother with donning the rest of his clothes. What was the point? He needed to shower before he could go to bed, and-- His gaze slid to hers as a thought struck. The last time he’d showered, she’d taken off and he’d spent an inordinate amount of time looking for her. Was that her plan now? Payne wondered. Is that why she was so matter-of-factly suggesting that he go to his own room? So that she could wait for him to get in the shower and then give him the slip again?

He glanced at the clock--four-thirty. Certainly not out of the realm of possibility. She’d rolled out by five-thirty yesterday morning. In fact, were he to walk across the hall and get into the shower, that gave her just enough time to finish getting dressed--she’d had her bath, after all, the efficient wench--grab a bite to eat and make her escape.

He toyed with the idea of taking her again, but realized he’d only carried the one condom and they’d used it. He made a mental note to stop at a drug store at some point today and buy a box. His broody gaze drifted over her, lingered along the smooth curve of her cheek, her plump suckable lips. She wore a pink chenille robe which was easily a size too big because several inches of the hem dragged the ground and a soft tropical scent flavored the air. She smelled like coconut and pineapple, fresh and ripe and ready to eat.

She’d eaten him, he remembered--vividly. Honestly, watching her mouth close over his dick, her tongue dart out and capture the single bead he’d allowed to leak out and then watching the audacious creature look up at him from between his legs had to be the singular most sexy thing he’d ever seen. She was bold and confident and fearless and she made love with the kind of animalistic abandon that most guys only dreamed about, but never got to experience.

Emma Langsford was one of those rare individuals who did nothing in half-measures. Whatever she set her mind to held her full attention and she enthusiastically tackled everything with the same driven fervor. No wonder Hastings had sent her here, Payne thought. He knew his own worth, knew that he was cool-headed, methodical and focused. But she was...ruthless, in a good way.

Nevertheless, he had no intention of letting her get away from him this morning and if she thought to throw him off his game by throwing him out, then she’d better think again. Payne gathered his things and sidled over to the door, where she was waiting for him. Rather than stating the obvious--that making love to her had been beyond amazing--he lowered his head and brushed a kiss on her forehead. “Enemies again?” he asked.

“Opponents,” Emma clarified, her voice oddly strangled. “We’re opponents.”

Semantics, he supposed, but preferred her term to his as well. Enemies suggested that they had nothing in common--that they couldn’t get along--and they’d proven without a doubt last night that they not only could get along, but do it splendidly.

Payne nodded, walked out into the hall. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

Her gaze tangled with his and a small smile played over her lips. “Don’t count on it.” And with that parting shot, she closed the door.

Oh, but he would, Payne thought. She’d play hell getting out of here this morning before he was damned good and ready for her to go. Just because he normally didn’t break the rules didn’t mean he was opposed to bending them himself when the need arose.

Probably now would be good time for her to learn that.