Vivian Arend - High Passion

Vincent was more of a concern than her panic attack, and that realization pissed her off greatly.

Once the table was set, she wandered Devon’s living room and waited for him to join her. Sitting on the floor by his music collection made her smile. All of her music was digital, but Devon had one of those old vertical stackers, and she pulled one CD from it after another, her amusement rising.

She loaded his CD player and hit play, the rich sounds of classical orchestration filling the house with the familiar music of her childhood. The Mission , Empire of the Sun —soundtracks with hauntingly beautiful melodies brought up the good memories she had from before her family’s expectations had changed.

Alisha paced slowly through the small house. The minimal furniture was similar to her own, with a few better pieces mixed in with the thrift shop buys. The mystery of who Devon was made her wonder.

She’d kept herself and her background secret for years, and in doing so she’d blocked off sharing with others. He was the youngest of a large family, she knew that. He grew up in Calgary, he had friends in Banff . . .

He was an extraordinary lover.

The door swung open and she twisted to greet him. His smile flashed, and a rush of anticipation hit again.

He cocked his head to the side, listening. A groan escaped him. “You found the CDs my brother gave me.”

“You never told me you were a classical fan. We’ll have to load the chopper with a few of your selections to share with the team.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind the stuff, but that collection is my brother attempting to civilize me.” Devon crossed the room to her side and slipped his arms around her. “Xavier listens to anything, Tripp enjoys it as well, but if you can convince Erin to agree to try something other than that pot-banging stuff she likes, you’re a miracle worker.”

“I’ll have to tell her your opinion of her musical tastes.” Alisha looked up, savouring the warmth between them.

“Trust me, she knows.” Devon paused, then peeled himself away. “If I start kissing you, I won’t be able to stop. Food first?”

“Everything is ready.” She followed him into the kitchen and accepted the chair he held for her.

What followed was an exercise in sexual frustration. He didn’t touch her. Didn’t move his chair closer and lean in, or whisper sexy innuendo while they ate. He simply watched.

Every time she moved, his gaze followed her as if he were memorizing her. Stroking her skin without a touch. When she lifted a forkful of salad to her mouth he stared at her lips. She licked the dressing from the tines, and he swallowed. She picked up a piece of chicken and put her teeth to it, and the fire in his eyes lit something inside to blazing hot.

“You’re making me crazy,” she complained.

He lowered his glass to the table. “Eat. I can’t ravish you until we’re fed.”

Another minute passed. Another. Alisha considered abandoning the meal to get right to the good parts, but after the day they’d had, if she didn’t refuel, the ravishing wouldn’t last long.

By the time she’d satisfied one hunger, though, her body was buzzing with another need. She placed her utensils across her plate and lowered her hands to her lap. “All done. I’m ready for my ravishing, sir.”

Devon abandoned his plate and caught her up in his arms, “God, I’d thought you’d never finish.”

Alisha laughed as he twirled them toward the back of the house, pulling to a stop outside his bedroom. “Shower?” she asked. “I never took one at Lifeline because you’d mentioned . . .”

He lowered her feet to the floor, their bodies rubbing together the entire way down. “Through that door. Strip, I’ll join you in a minute. Less than a minute.”

Then he was gone, vanishing into his bedroom. Alisha didn’t waste any time but raced to the front door where she’d left her bag. Stripping off her clothes was first priority; sneaking a minute with her toothbrush was the second.

Devon returned when she was rinsing her mouth, and his laughter wrapped around her like a caress. She returned the glass to the counter and twisted to face him. “Good oral hygiene is important.”

He breathed out a long hum of approval, his gaze lingering on her breasts, lowering down her body. “Of course it is. Now get your ass in the shower.”

“Bossy.” She stepped into the shower enclosure. “How did you score such an amazing house in Banff? I covet your walk-in shower.”

Devon put a condom on the soap ledge in the wall, dodging out of the way as she turned on the water. “It’s an old servants’ quarters for the main home on the street front. The owners are friends of my parents—they had renovated this place for their son when he still lived at home, and when he moved out they offered it to me. In exchange I watch their house and deal with all the mail and bills while they snowbird to Arizona in the winter.”

“It’s perfect.” Alisha left the door open as she eased under the water. Heat poured over her, soothing her fatigued muscles, but the view was too fascinating to ignore. Devon stripped off his shirt, abdominal muscles flexing as he tossed the fabric aside. “You can do that slower if you’d like. There’s no rush.”

He paused with his hands on his belt. “You’re looking for entertainment, are you?”

She slipped her hands up her torso and cupped her breasts, loving how his expression darkened, his hunger coming through clearly. “We talked about ravishing, but I feel a slow simmering event might hit the spot.”

He popped his button and lowered his zipper without removing his gaze from her body. “I can do simmer. Maybe.”

Alisha laughed. “Lack of control a problem for you, Devon? I’d never have guessed.”

His eyes snapped up. “You want me in control?”

His tone of voice changed. Deepened. Twirled around her like a lariat and wrapped her tight. A shiver slipped along her spine in spite of the heated water caressing her. “Slow and controlled would be perfect right about now.”

A wicked grin was his response. “Then I guess I’ll have to dig deep, won’t I?”

He opened his pants farther, his cock pressing the fabric of his boxer briefs. Alisha licked her lips and continued a slow caress over her body as she admired him. Strong thighs came into view, his calf muscles. He stepped out of his pants and edged closer, muscles flexing mesmerizingly as he stalked to the edge of the shower enclosure.

He dropped his gaze to between her legs. “Pick up the soap and lather your hands.” He seemed unaware he’d lowered a hand over his cock and was stroking it through the fabric, but as she followed his directions, that was what she focused on. The thickening length hidden from her view tantalized her. Made her mouth water.

The scent of peaches rose into the air as she rubbed her hands together, slippery and aromatic at the same time.

“Open your legs and put your hands on your pussy. That’s it. Slower, though. Don’t rush.” He hummed approvingly as Alisha slipped her fingers through her folds, slicking briefly over her clit, then avoiding the sensitive trigger and working the rest of her sex.

Devon stripped off his briefs and joined her in the shower, grabbing the soap and coating his hands as well. She glanced at his cock, the heavy shaft full and reaching toward his navel, a bead of semen glistening on the slit before he put his hands on himself again. He fisted his cock with one hand and caressed his balls with the other.

“I could do that for you,” she offered. She wanted to touch him so badly.

“Your hands are supposed to be busy,” he reminded her. “Open yourself to me. I want to watch.”