Damn, she had a way of keeping him hard. Wyatt drove into her, again and again, amazed at how quickly he’d recovered from their last round. How quickly he rose to the peak and would have exploded inside her, but he resisted, pulling free at the last moment. His cock was so hard he could drive nails into the wall with it.
Fiona gasped. “Why’d you stop?”
He shook his head and said through clenched teeth, “As crazy as you make me, we don’t have protection.”
“Let me down,” she insisted.
Wyatt eased her to her feet and gripped his member, rubbing his hands along the length to finish what they’d started.
She grabbed the bar of soap and created a thick lather in her hands, then pushed his hands out of the way and wrapped hers around him. Within seconds of pumping up and down his shaft, she had him back where he’d left off inside her. One more jerk of her wrists sent him flying over the edge, shooting his wad over her hands.
Fiona glanced up and smiled and handed him the bar of soap. “Your turn.”
He lathered up and ran his hands over her shoulders and arms, cupping her breasts in his big hands. They were perfect.
Fiona closed her eyes, letting her head tip back in the spray of the showerhead.
Wyatt trailed soap down her belly and wove his fingers through the tuft of curls covering her sex. Parting her folds, he flicked the nubbin hidden between.
Her breath hitched and she covered his hand with hers, urging him to continue. “Oh yeah. That’s the spot.”
Flicking again, he smiled at the way her face and body tensed. She responded to him so readily. With his other hand, he dug thumb into her pussy, and a single digit into her anus, taking up the rhythm of the strokes he applied to her clit.
Before long, she was hanging onto his arms, breathing hard, her body tense. “Holy hell,” she said as she dug her fingernails into his muscles. “I can’t…take…much…awwww.” She flung back her head and rode his fingers, her hips thrusting against him, her face strained, her eyes squeezed shut.
He continued until she touched his hand. “Please. I can’t take more. It’s too much.”
Wyatt slid his hands over her bottom and pressed her body against his, his cock sandwiched between them. “You are an incredible woman. Did you know that?”
Fiona laughed shakily, pushing her hair back from her face and letting the water run through it.
Her breasts bobbed and Wyatt seized their temptation, tweaking them briefly before squirting shampoo into his hands. “Much as I want to do this all again. I know you have to get done. Turn around.”
She obeyed. Her pale back and bottom were every bit as sexy as her front. Ready to tell the world to screw itself, Wyatt squelched his continued desire for this amazing woman and applied the shampoo to her long red hair, working it through the tresses to her scalp.
“I’ve never had a man wash my hair before.” She moaned softly. “Umm. I could get used to it.”
He bit his tongue to keep from telling her he’d do it for her any time she liked. Being with Fiona made him forget his troubles. All he had to do was fall asleep with her in his arms and they’d start all over again. He could never forgive himself if he hurt her because of his nightmares. Finishing, he turned her around and let her rinse the soap out of her hair. Knowing he should get out of the shower and let her finish on her own, he just couldn’t. He followed through with conditioner. The water began to cool and they finally climbed out of the shower and spent a few precious minutes drying each other off, laughing in the process.
Wyatt had never felt more relaxed in any other woman’s company and he was liking it far too much.
Then Fiona made the mistake of checking the clock on her cell phone and shrieked. “Crap, I have ten minutes to get to the ballroom.”
“You look great just the way you are.” Wyatt slapped her ass.
Fiona turned and touched his chest, her hand drifting down to his still hardened member. “You look pretty good yourself.” Then her eyes widened. “Crap. I didn’t even think about it. Do you have a suit and tie? The event tonight is formal. You can’t come in jeans and a T-shirt, and I really need you there. You didn’t even bring a hanging bag or anything.” She grabbed a brush and started yanking it through her hair. “There are stores in the River Center Mall if you need to be fitted quickly. But that’s cutting it way too close. Does Joe have a suit you could use?”
Pushing back his laughter, he captured her hand to keep it from flapping. “I think I can come up with something.”
She let out a steadying breath. “Oh good. Then go!” With a gentle shove, she guided him toward the bathroom door. “I’ll never get ready on time if you stay in here. Damn, I haven’t even dried my hair.”
Wyatt laughed out loud as she closed the door in his face.
Fiona met Maddie in the ballroom an hour before the event was due to begin. She’d barely had time to dry and pin her hair up and thank goodness she’d had her dress dry cleaned and hanging in her closet. After she and Maddie attended to the last minute details with the hotel staff, Preston’s security detail and Joe’s dogs, Fiona smoothed imaginary wrinkles out of her dress and waited at the entrance to the ballroom, greeting the guests one at a time as they filed in.
She’d practiced greetings in eight different languages and used those on the diplomats as she checked them off her list. Twenty minutes into the social hour she still hadn’t seen Wyatt and had begun to think he hadn’t had any luck locating the appropriate attire for the formal event. Damn, she wished she’d thought of it earlier.
Maddie leaned toward her. “Columbia and Venezuela are getting a little too close.”
Fiona glanced across the room.
The Columbian and the Venezuelan delegates were closing in on each other.
“Want me to run interference?” Maddie asked.
“No, I’ve got this.” Fiona hurried across the room to avert confrontation, hooking the Columbian’s arm and steering him away from the Venezuelan and toward the beautifully prepared hors d’oeuvres the hotel staff had prepared. When she’d introduced him to a woman from Argentina, she excused herself and glanced up as another guest entered the ballroom door. At that moment, the crowd separated long enough for her to catch a glimpse of the latest attendee.
A tall man dressed in a sharply tailored military uniform stepped into the room. Rows and rows of ribbons with shiny metals dangling off them adorned his chest. As he entered the ballroom, every female gaze shifted toward him.
His hair cut short, his chin cleanly shaven, he stood straight, his broad shoulders held back, his chest prominent and his mouth set in a straight line. Everything about him exuded power and dignity.
Fiona’s heart did a double beat when she realized it was Wyatt.
“Wow,” she said.
“Perdón, senorita?” The Mexican delegate leaned toward her.
“Pardon me.” Fiona left the man standing there without another word and sifted through the throng toward the entrance.
When his gaze captured hers, his eyes widened ever so slightly and appreciatively, sweeping over her length.
She was glad she’d found the simple black gown on sale at one of San Antonio’s most exclusive formal wear shops. With its V neckline and rhinestone straps it had been a particularly fabulous find. And based on the desire flaring in Wyatt’s eyes, it was a keeper.
Feeling like a schoolgirl on her first date, she held out her hand. “You look amazing.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself.” Without seeming to bend, he leaned toward her and whispered, “Only I prefer you naked.”
Her cheeks warmed. “Nice to see you found something to wear.”
“This old thing?” He winked and raised her hand to his lips, pressed a kiss to her palm and curled her fingers around it. He glanced around the room. “Everyone seems fairly civil at the moment.”