Any Way You Want It (Brand Clan #2)(59)

“No crack. Just an observation.” He gestured to indicate that she should precede him from the room. “After you.”

Morgan glanced back at Zandra, her dark eyes twinkling. “Sorry for costing you a client.”

Zandra laughed. “Oh, I think I can forgive you.”

Morgan grinned. “You and Remy enjoy your love trip.”

“Yeah,” River added, winking at Zandra. “Have fun.”

“Thanks, guys. You, too.”

They left, River staring appreciatively at Morgan’s backside.

Zandra grinned after them.

It appeared that Morgan was about to fall victim to the same Brand magnetism that had not only ensnared her sister, but Zandra, as well.

She sighed, shaking her head.

God help us, Morgan. God help us both.





Chapter Seventeen

Zandra hummed Adele’s “Chasing Pavements” as she strolled along London’s Regent Street, passing upscale shops and outlet stores housed in elegant buildings. It was the second full day of her trip to England, and she was on her own.

After the way she’d behaved during Remy’s speech yesterday, he’d forbade her from attending his panel session that morning.

The memory of what led to her banishment brought a wicked grin to Zandra’s face.

After arriving in London late Tuesday evening, she and Remy had been too weary from their travels to do much more than check into their luxurious hotel suite, order dinner and fall asleep in each other’s arms. They’d awakened early the next morning and shared a steamy, decadent shower before breakfast was delivered—hot porridge, fresh fruit and coffee. After they ate, they’d quickly dressed and taken a chauffeured car to the conference hotel for Remy’s scheduled presentation.

The ballroom had been filled to capacity, but Remy had already reserved a front-row seat for Zandra. She’d sat down, crossed her legs and focused intently on his handsome face as he began speaking authoritatively about the global landscape of terrorism. The audience was riveted, hanging on to his every word. And Zandra had been fascinated, too—until the deep, masculine timbre of his voice started doing things to her.

Wicked, dirty things.

Before she knew it she was imagining the rough stroke of his hands on her body...his mouth between her thighs...his tongue licking the moist flesh of her *.

As a hungry ache spread from her pelvis to her breasts, she’d uncrossed and crossed her legs, inadvertently drawing Remy’s attention.

Their eyes had met and held.

She’d bit her lower lip, taken a shallow breath. The inhalation sent his gaze lower, to her breasts. Without glancing down, she’d known that her nipples were thrusting brazenly against her blouse.

Remy’s nostrils had flared, his hands curling around the edges of the wooden lectern. Just a brief clenching of fingers, but it was enough to send a naughty thrill of excitement through her.

He’d faltered for a moment, losing his train of thought. His black lashes swept downward as he glanced at his notes. Before members of the audience could begin to stir and glance around curiously, he’d recovered his composure and smoothly soldiered on.

Though he hadn’t looked at Zandra again, she’d known that he was hyperaware of her presence. She’d sensed his agitation as he fought to remain focused on his lecture.

When it was over, he’d been mobbed by people who were eager to comment on his presentation and pick the brain of a former Navy SEAL. He’d patiently answered their questions, flashed that killer smile, collected business cards and posed for photos—all the while tracking Zandra around the room as she smiled and chatted with other attendees.

Once the crowd began to thin, Remy had made his way over to her. Without a word, he’d gently cupped her elbow and guided her from the ballroom.

She didn’t have to ask where they were going. She knew.

Back to their hotel.

But Remy apparently couldn’t wait that long. Instead of ushering her outside to their chauffeured car, he’d led her down an empty corridor toward the rear stairwell. He’d moved with unerring purpose, making her wonder when he’d had the opportunity to learn the layout of the hotel.

The thought fled her mind the moment he shoved open the stairwell door and pulled her after him. Once the heavy door swung shut, she didn’t have time to worry that someone might wander upon them. Frankly she didn’t care.

Remy hiked her skirt up her thighs, ripped her silk panties off her legs, then stood and pushed her up against the wall. She was already soaked, her juices smearing the tops of her thighs. As he touched the glistening wetness, his eyes blazed with lust.

He’d licked his coated fingers, nostrils flaring with carnal pleasure. Then he’d grabbed her wrists in one hand and pinned them above her head as he reached down with his other hand to unzip his pants. She’d wrapped her shaky legs around his waist. Then he’d thrust into her, driving his dick so deep her spine contracted.

They’d both gasped and shuddered violently.

His hand gripped her buttocks as he began pumping into her, one long stroke after another. She’d wanted to touch him, to rake her manicured nails across his Armani-clad back. But his hard, strong fingers kept her wrists shackled to the wall.

It was thrilling. Intoxicating. Wildly erotic.

He hadn’t spoken a word since they’d left the ballroom, and neither had she. Even if she’d wanted to speak, the maelstrom of sensation pounding through her body made coherent speech impossible.