The bottle of maple whiskey did little to dull his emotions. It was over.

Bryce had been dealt blow after blow in one day. First finding out Rory was the closet male heir. There was no doubt in his mind what his grandfather would do. It was what any man would do, discovering he had a direct descendent.

There goes my career, my life’s work. The fact that he was young enough to start over didn’t manage to pummel its way past his moroseness. Maybe later it would, but for now, he would damned well wallow.

Because he’d lost.

And then to add insult to injury, Melanie had found her true family. A father that wanted to take her away.

She made a deal with me. A deal when she was desperate and vulnerable. She had no need of it now. No need of me. Hell, the deal wasn’t even on the table anymore. There was no legacy left for him even if he did marry and pop out a kid.

He had nothing. Nothing to offer Melanie.

Knock. Knock. He swiveled in his chair to glare at the door. No one should have been around, the place shut down until the cleaners got through with it. No one here but him and his personal demons. Knock. Through the frosted glass, he could see a shadow.

“Who is it?” he snapped. “Go away.”

“No.” Her soft voice hit him before the scent of her did. She stepped into his office, beautiful and frail, yet with an inner strength that awed. She’d gone through so much and remained strong. She’d gone from the lowest place in her life to the highest, and he was happy for her—even if it put her out of reach.

“I guess you came to tell me you’re leaving,” he said, taking another sip of the sweet whiskey liquor.

“Actually, I am here to tell you I’m not going anywhere until the deal is done. I made a promise, and I intend to keep it.”

At her declaration, he snorted. “Kind of pointless now, going on. Rory’s the true heir. A secret maple son returned to the fold.”

“I’m sure your grandfather won’t leave you out in the cold.”

“Maybe not, but this”—he waved his hand around—“isn’t truly mine. It belongs to my uncle. And his future children.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Is that it, then? You’re just going to give up?”

“Not giving up, conceding defeat. Maybe I won’t be the next maple syrup baron, but I’m sure there’s something out there for me. What about you? When do you leave with your father?” His heart shriveled as he waited for her reply.

“I already told you I’m not leaving. I have unfinished business.”

He wanted to throw the glass as frustration welled inside. “The deal is off. Don’t stay on my account. I certainly don’t plan to.”

“This isn’t about the deal. This is about me and what I want.”

The way she said it, the way she drew near, her gaze steady on him, almost hungry.

Hope fluttered in his breast. “What do you want?” The words emerged low and gruff.

“I want you to finish what you started in the woods.”

“But you’re a—”

“If you say the word virgin, I will hurt you. Don’t you get it? I don’t want to be a virgin anymore.”

“So, you just want to get rid of it, and want to use me to do it?” While not much of a romantic, even Bryce had standards.

“You idiot. Don’t you see? I thought I waited this long because I was afraid. That’s only partly true. Do you know the real reason I waited, Bryce?”

He shook his head, unable to speak. Surely he wasn’t afraid to hope?

“I was waiting for the right man.” In case he retained any doubts, she made it clear. “I was waiting for you.” The statement hit him a second before her shirt did. The fabric, still warm from her skin, slid down and revealed her standing tall and proud, bra cupping her breasts, skirt hanging off her hips. Moist lips beckoned, and she looked wanton with her hair tumbling over her bare shoulders, the silky strands tickling her breasts.

The glass of whiskey hit the desk. He stood and wasn’t even aware of moving until he’d swept her into his arms.

Still, he hesitated. “Are you sure? I might be a pauper by tomorrow, with nothing to give.”

“Don’t you get it yet? I don’t care about the money. I just want you. Don’t you want me?” The fear he would reject her again quavered in the words.

Like fuck. He might not have an inheritance, but he couldn’t turn her away. He was too selfish for that. Bryce wanted Melanie. They’d make it work.

He swept her into his arms, dipping his head until he could slant his mouth across hers. Her breath caught, and he inhaled the small sound as he kept kissing, plastering her body against his, lifting her off the floor to bring her closer. With a sound of pleasure, her lips parted, allowing him to fully taste her. Their tongues twined, and her hands crept to grip his shoulders.

He moved until her ass hit the edge of his desk. Papers and pens went crashing to the floor as he swept it clear. He parked her on it and pushed his body between her legs, never letting his lips lose contact with hers.

With her perched, he could now easily stroke her body, his callused hands skimming her soft skin, drawing murmurs of excitement and shivers.

His fingers threaded her hair and tugged her head back, exposing her throat. First, though, he let his lips travel to the shell of her ear where he whispered, “You’re mine, kitten.”

“For how long?” she replied just as softly.

“Forever,” was his growl before he tugged at her lobe with his teeth.

A groan rolled out of her, and he rumbled in reply. She responded so well to his touch. Shivering and moaning with everything he did.

He bent her back and let his lips burn a path from her ear to her neck then lower still to the valley between her breasts, a gorgeous handful hidden by her bra. The clasp between them gave easily and parted, displaying her perfection.

With one hand, he cupped the soft peach. His thumb brushed over the peak, and it puckered. How tempting.

He didn’t resist. He sucked her nipple and part of her breast into his mouth, suctioning and tugging while soft mewls of pleasure panted past her lips.

There was no doubt she enjoyed it. The musky aroma of her arousal surrounded him. The heat in her body rose. And she shivered, shivered and trembled and moaned at his touch.

A nip of her nipple caused a louder moan, and the guttural sound made him fucking hard.

He just wanted to sink into her. To fuck her until she screamed his name.

But he couldn’t. Not yet. This was her first time. A moment she would always remember, and he had to make it good.

He had to make it epic.

As his hands skimmed over her body, his mouth returned to capture her lips. She wasn’t shy and hesitant now. She clung to him fiercely, sucking his tongue, her fingers dancing along his skin.

She’d changed from her track pants to a skirt, a loose one that rose easily up her thighs until he encountered the edge of her panties. His fingers dipped around the edge, and she froze.

He froze as well. He didn’t say anything, just waited.

Waited for permission.

“Don’t stop.”

He almost came at her reply. Instead, though, he knelt between her legs, her position on the desk the perfect height for what he had in mind. He tugged at her panties, dragging them down until they fell to the floor.

The scent of her was like a drug, making him throb with need. Hunger for a taste. Yet despite his eagerness, he remained in control, aware this was new for her. He began by teasing her, rubbing the bristled edge of his jaw along the silken skin of her inner thigh.

She gasped.

Again he rubbed, this time on the other side.

Another noise escaped her, and a fine tremor shook her body.

He blew warmly against her sex, and she moaned. “Please.”

A simple word that meant everything.

He latched onto her sex with a suddenness that made her whole body arch. “Bryce!” His name emerged from her lips, part surprise, mostly pleasure.

And then she could only moan as he licked her. Licked and lapped at her sex, spreading her silken lips to truly taste her honey.

Sweeter even than maple syrup.

After a bit of licking, he moved to her pleasure nub, gripping it with his lips, giving it a tug.

That earned him a scream, and her fingers gripped his hair painfully.

Perfectly.

She was close now. So close.

He flicked her clit with his tongue, back and forth, lashing her with it, feeling her body tighten, coiling with pleasure.

Then, he penetrated her with a finger, two of them to the knuckle.

She was fucking tight and hot.

And pure. He noted the membrane but didn’t push past it. Just let his fingers pump in and out as his tongue worked her until she came.

She came hard, her whole body frozen in a bowed arc, her mouth open wide but soundless.

A powerful climax that took a moment before it ripped a loud scream from her. The mouth of her sex spasmed around his fingers, and his cock throbbed.

How good would that feel wrapped around him?

He couldn’t wait to find out, and yet as he stood, ready for the next round of seduction, he stopped.

Something’s not right.

The wild side of Bryce recognized the danger before he did. Smelled the smoke. Fresh smoke, not the residual sooty traces.

Melanie, her eyes still heavy with passion, confirmed it a second later. “I think the place is on fire.”