Hot Commodity (Banks / Kincaid Family #1)(30)

Olivia’s room door flung open. "What?" she hissed in alarm.

Cameron backed up a step in order to let her poke her head around the corner. When she saw he wasn’t lying, a gasp escaped her lips. Roark began to lift her head just as a delicate feminine hand latched onto Cameron’s tux lapel. One moment he stood in the hall, watching her mother swivel her head their way, the next, his wife yanked him into her room.

The door snapped shut behind him and Olivia leaned against him as she pressed her ear to the wooden panel. Completely ignoring him as she put all her attention into listening to the footsteps in the hall, Olivia didn’t even seem to realize Cameron was there.

He grinned, pleased he’d gotten inside, and watched her face as she bit her bottom lip. He glanced around the suite—taking in the king-sized bed with the unmade sheets—and then returned his attention to the slight woman standing tense in his arms.

"I think she’s moving past," she whispered.

"Hmm," he responded, glancing down at the long length of her nightgown.

It’d take forever to gather all that cloth up to her waist, but his fingers ached to get started. Unable to resist, he reached out and set his fingers lightly on her hip, delighting in the smooth texture of silk. She shuddered and sucked in a breath but kept her back to him. He took that as invitation enough and slowly slid his palm over all the gloriously smooth material.

He slipped his hand around to her stomach and briefly debated whether to head up or go down from there. Knowing he’d probably turn a little too hot a little too fast if he went south, he decided to savor his prize and glided his way north only to encounter a firm globe of womanly delights. His thumb rubbed over the peak, and he groaned when he found it hard and beaded, ready for him.

Olivia whimpered and slapped her hand against the door to brace herself. She bowed her head down, causing all her hair to fall over her shoulders, which left the back of her neck exposed. Cam leaned forward, needing to taste that bare patch to soft, tempting flesh. But just as his lips grazed rich creamy skin, a knock came at the very door she leaned against.

Yelping out a startled scream, Olivia jerked back and stumbled into Cameron. He caught her by the waist and gathered her close enough to press his aching cock to the crease in her warm ass. She slapped a hand over her mouth and tore away from him, bracing both hands to the door as she peeked out the peephole.

"Oh, my God," she rasped in a breathless whisper. "It’s her."

Cameron let out a low chuckle of amusement, feeling no compassion for what he knew had to be a traumatic moment for his wife. So, Mommy had come to call and Baby Olivia had a gentleman guest in her hotel room. Someone call the hangman.

"Olivia?" that irritatingly shrill voice of Vivian’s sliced through the door like it was tissue paper between them instead of solid pine.

"Yes?" Olivia called and anxiously shook her hands at her side as if trying to shake off water.

"Open the door," her mother demanded.

Olivia stuck a fingernail between her teeth and looked momentarily sick. Not much caring for that sudden grey pallor, Cameron leaned forward and stirred her hair with his breath as he whispered in her ear. "You just got out of the shower. Only wearing a towel."

Not bothering to look back at him, she rushed out in a raised voice. "Uh, I can’t. I just got out of the shower, Mother. I’m not...I’m not decent."

Grinning because she’d used his excuse, Cameron patted her hip encouragingly and decided she should never take up professional lying. The poor girl sucked at telling fibs.

Wanting to help her stay honest, he went about making her as indecent as she claimed to be. Keeping his hand on her hip, he bunched as much fabric into his hand as he could gather. The hemline rose a few inches, revealing slim, petite ankles.

"Why did you leave the reception?" Vivian asked through the door, her tone irritated. "I told you to stick around in case Banks asked for another dance."

"Uh…"

Hiking up her long nightgown another foot, Cameron leaned forward

until his chest brushed her back. "You heard me say I had a headache and then saw me leave. There was no reason for you to stay."

"Banks told me his head hurt, and he was going up to his room. So, uh, I had no reason to stay," she parroted through the door.

"Good girl," Cam whispered and hummed under his breath in approval when he lifted the skirt up enough to reveal her thong. Oh, yeah. She had a grade-A ass. He hooked his fingers in the thin excuse of a waistband and slid the panties down.

She jerked in surprise as if she’d just then realized what he was doing. Then she pressed her hands against the door again and arched as if trying to assist his endeavors. He grinned and kissed her shoulder in thanks.

"As long as you didn’t give him the headache with your incessant chatter during your dance," Vivian grumbled loudly.

"Blame it on the champagne," Cam suggested, tunneling his fingers into the crack between her buttocks and following the line down until he hit moist heat.

Olivia hiccupped a sound of need and surprise, but spread her thighs a few more inches to give him room to explore.

"I, uh, uh, it was the alcohol," she managed to stumble out as she leaned her forehead against the door and lifted on tiptoes, displaying her ass to him in open invitation. "You should’ve seen how much champagne he was guzzling. I think the alcohol made him sick."