Too Much: A Loveswept Contemporary Erotic Romance (All or Nothing) (2 page)

Their gazes met, and the distance between them fell away while hollowness filled her at the same time. How would she be able to survive this meeting without touching him or begging him to touch her?

He cocked his head, forehead wrinkling as his brows lowered. A single lock of hair fell from its place and she noticed the gray at his temples. He was only thirty, but good God, what
that gray managed to do for him was unbelievable. She wanted to sink her hands into his hair and pull him down to meet … 
stop it.

Her body didn’t listen. Her palms ached to trace the planes of his face, move lower, and sink into the heavy muscles of his chest. Well over six feet tall, with a face that made angels weep and a body to match, he had always been and remained pure sinful temptation.

“Who said that?” he asked.

All around them, music pumped and people begged for release. The sounds of sex bounced off the walls of his club and echoed in her ears. But in that moment the world stopped. She was caught in the ice of his eyes, reflecting the coolness of his soul. Yet all she wanted to do was burrow deeper into him and remain unfound. A tear tracked down her cheek and she pushed a fist to her stomach to hold everything in.

Daly took a deep breath, beyond caring that he’d witnessed her break in composure. “I did.”

Copeland pulled his hands from his pockets and crossed his arms over his chest. He fisted his hands tight. It was either that or reach for her. Daly Edwards tripped every switch he had, including and especially the one in his pants.

Her gaze roved over him and hunger had her chocolate-brown eyes going black. He knew it was hunger because he knew
her.
His cock responded, twitching and hardening, begging to be seated inside her. He ruthlessly pushed down the need that always simmered beneath the surface. Thoughts of her the last three years had been bad enough. Seeing her,
smelling
her, was hell.

He took his time, but finally Copeland allowed his gaze to return to hers. Her face was blank, showing nothing to indicate her mood, though her delicate cheekbones were flushed red. She was definitely nervous; the rapid pulse at the base of her throat gave her away. She licked her lips and the bow shape of her mouth shone with moisture. His hunger for her was so intense, he barely controlled the growl that threatened to erupt. He wanted to drag her bottom lip between his and feast.
Look away from her mouth, Copeland.

He did, and as he glanced up and down her body, he stopped at her thigh-high black leather boots. She wore skintight leather pants that outlined her long, taut legs and pert ass. The Dom in him surfaced for a quick second, wanting him to bend her over his knees, tap that ass in quick succession, show her she belonged to him.

He breathed heavily through his lust. It was almost impossible.

Her full breasts were pushed up high by a tight, purple corset laced with black satin ribbon. The contrast of the corset’s color with the creamy perfection of her skin was, quite simply,
beautiful.
Her long, mink-brown hair curled softly at the ends and had his hands clenching to keep from diving in. His gaze halted on two thin gold chains around her neck. The gold butterfly hanging from one chain caught his attention. No collar. He breathed in roughly. What would he have done had she been taken? He still considered her … 
his.
The connection on his end had never disappeared. She had left him years ago, but time hadn’t allowed him peace.

The longer he stared, the more her breathing sped up, her body recognizing it was in the midst of a predator. Before he could check the action, he stepped forward and caressed the soft skin beneath her ear, sliding his hand under the delicate chains and hovering over her pulse before drifting to her shoulder.

She gasped. “What the hell are you doing?”

Touching her was an instinctive reaction. “You should wear rubies,” he ground out.

She stiffened, but right before she veiled her gaze he saw her despair. It was a sucker punch.

He lowered his arm and stepped back. “Why are you here?”

She glanced up then and her cheeks reddened further. Anger always made her cheeks red. The ones on her face, anyway. He snuffed the path of his thoughts.

Daly cocked her head. “If you’d returned my phone calls, this meeting wouldn’t have been necessary.”

“Say what you came to say.” He kept his tone cold. It was better that way. He didn’t answer those calls because he could not go there with her—because if he did, he knew he’d want more.

She took a step toward him. He wanted to motion her farther forward so he could trace the curve of her neck and the line of her collarbone. Then he wanted to follow the path his hands took and lick away the sting of their separation.

And he very much wanted her to do the same for him.

“Someone left a gift for you on my front porch,” she muttered.

“Yeah? Why didn’t they just bring it to me themselves?”

She tossed her long brown hair over her shoulder. An ache settled in his chest. The picture forming in his mind was one of those long locks wrapped around his fist as he pushed into her over and over from behind.

“I don’t know, Jeremiah. When you talk to your brother you can ask him.”

His given name from her mouth sent need rolling through his gut. He winced, trying to quell his reaction, but her eyes flared—she’d seen it. Nobody but Daly called him Jeremiah. Ever. To his friends he was J.C. To the rest of the world he was Copeland.

His curiosity was piqued as she pulled the second chain from between her breasts. Then the light from a strobe caught what dangled at the end of the chain, and Copeland shut down.

It was his brother’s high school class ring. A call for help that meant nothing but trouble. Last time Copeland had received that ring, he’d ended up having to save David’s life and career as an attorney. It had cost him Daly.

That his brother had left it on her front porch pissed him right the fuck off. She held it out to him and he took it from her calmly, putting it into his pocket.

He was about ten seconds from reaching for her. Instead, he inclined his head. “Feel free to have a drink on the house, or enjoy,” he glanced around the club, “the atmosphere.”

Something dark moved through her eyes and his breath caught.

“I’ll pass,” she responded, and her voice was arctic.

He shrugged. “Then leave.” He would never have admitted it to her, but his command was a test. She’d been his three years ago. She’d left him, and now she’d returned. The reason
for her presence in his dungeon tonight was irrelevant. He had to know—would she still respond to him?

She bowed her head just once, straightened her shoulders, and turned away. She had always obeyed beautifully.
Submissive.

It was too much. With the sounds of other people’s desire in his ears, and the woman he longed for so close he could taste her in the air, it was just too fucking much.

“Stop,” he called out.

She kept walking. His heart snapped in two, the crack in it since she’d walked away splintering completely as the organ threatened to stop beating altogether.
She
left
him
three years ago. She hadn’t trusted him—hadn’t given him time or a chance to explain anything.

And she thought she’d walk away again? No matter that he’d just commanded her to leave, and that he’d survived by
not
seeing her. Now that she’d forced this meeting, all bets were off.

“You will stop, Daly,” he said in a vicious voice.

She didn’t, and it took everything in him not to chase after her, wrap her in his arms, and take her to the floor. Maybe use his ropes, tie her to the bolts in the ceiling, and then use his flogger to mark her back until her body sang with need. He growled. It was a very base response to what she stirred in him and how right they had been together. And he knew she recognized his current state, because her hips swayed just a little more and her pace increased.

Run, sexy little rabbit
, he thought. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and kept walking, until she stepped out of his club.

He should let her go. They were impossible together. What they’d been three years ago had shone brighter than any sun, then they’d burned too hot and hurt each other too deeply.

But he craved her. And he knew damn well her body still needed what only he could give. She belonged to him and if he was truthful with himself, didn’t think about how she’d left him, he belonged to her—in all ways, physical and emotional; man and Dominant.

Impossible.

Improbable.

But true.

He took off after her, moving swiftly around dancers on the floor, ignoring people who called his name. Toby followed, and Copeland wondered if it was to protect him or the woman he chased after.

He stepped out of the club, but she was nowhere to be seen. “Bring the car around,” Jeremiah said, not turning but aware that Toby was close enough to hear his command.

Toby beat a path to do what he’d asked. Moments later Copeland got in on the passenger’s side. “When you drop me off, go to David’s house and make sure he’s safe for the
time being.”

His brother was the district attorney for the City of Atlanta. And he’d sent Copeland a message through Daly. The ring meant trouble. God help David if this brought anything but Copeland to Daly’s door.

Toby didn’t question; he simply nodded. Copeland leaned his head back and as he watched the streets of Atlanta pass by in a blur, he questioned whether he knew how to do the right thing anymore. She’d cut and run, leaving him battered and incomplete. He’d thought he’d drawn the short straw in life, until she’d walked into his club tonight demanding to see him.

She’d always run from the difficult things unless they were in the bedroom. A smile creased his face as he remembered just how
difficult
they’d gotten and how high they’d both flown. Copeland missed the feel of her skin against his and the softness of her hair over his chest. He missed her sighs and moans, and the flex and play of her body as he pounded inside it.

He missed
her.

By luck or providence, she’d come back to him. Whether she realized the ramifications of her stubbornness in seeking him out or not, she was on his line. Copeland need only set the hook deeper and reel her in.

He took a deep breath, relaxed into the seat, and made himself a promise: Daly wouldn’t run from him any longer.

Daly pulled into her garage, turning off the car as the door automatically closed. How long she sat staring at the wall outside her windshield she didn’t know, but it was long enough for her ass to begin numbing. She sighed and hit the steering wheel with her fist.

She’d made a huge mistake going to see Copeland tonight. In fact, “huge” might not accurately describe what she’d set into motion. She had refused to stop when he told her to and she knew he’d take it as a challenge. When you baited Jeremiah Copeland, intentionally or not, he reacted with the single-minded intensity of a lion on the hunt.

She wouldn’t panic. She could do this.

“Ah, screw it!”

Another tap on the steering wheel and she got out of the car and walked into the house. She threw her keys and purse on the kitchen bar, then headed to the bedroom. Her single-story bungalow in Buckhead was small by other’s standards, but it suited her perfectly. Two bedrooms, two baths, a large kitchen, and a living room comprised the structure. She’d put wooden floors in after she bought it. She’d also updated her kitchen appliances to stainless. Sparing no expense, Daly then surrounded herself with plush leather in the living room and deep mahogany wood in the master bedroom.

This house had become her baby when she’d left Jeremiah. She’d decorated her furnishings with deep reds, violets, and creams. Daly made it her refuge. Normally it soothed and comforted. Tonight her little house rang with emptiness.

Seeing him did this to her every time—left her aching in all kinds of places. She wasn’t prey, damn it.
He’d
been the prey; she, the hunter.

“I’ll show you, Jeremiah Copeland,” she muttered as she walked into her room and began unlacing her corset.

She flipped on the small bedside lamp and sat down on the edge of her bed, unzipping her boots before pulling them off. Daly stood and had just begun to wiggle out of her skintight leather pants when the scent of cedar invaded her nostrils.

The hair on the back of her neck rose as gooseflesh dotted her entire body. She froze, afraid to look behind her.

“You’ll show me what, Day? That fine ass you’ve kept from me for three years?”

He was behind her before the notes of his voice dropped from the air. His heat sank into her skin. His smell wrapped around her throat and squeezed.

“Or maybe you’ll show me those gorgeous breasts you’ve also kept from me? No?”

He stepped around her, and she faced the man who had both awakened and broken her. Thoughts bombarded her. How had he bypassed her security?
Why
the hell was he here?

The answer to how was simple. He was Jeremiah Copeland and he knew many ways to circumvent the law. More than that, he knew
her
, so he’d probably guessed her security code. She’d have to change it—the code
and
the locks. Just in case. She tried to stir up some anger, but it just wasn’t there. Strange, that.

The answer to why was beyond her. It could be as complex as that he had taken her actions earlier as a challenge. Or it could be as simple as that he pretty much did whatever he wanted.

He took another step forward, and she allowed her head to fall forward because suddenly, she didn’t have the strength to hold it up. Her pants were around her thighs, leaving her completely bared to his gaze. Daly had gone commando, not even bothering with a thong. With her heels off, she was left to stare at his silk-covered chest.

“Maybe you’ll show me that pussy that taunts me with its heat even now—the smell of your arousal is a taste on my tongue. A taste I’ve never forgotten.”

Her body brushed his with every breath she took. Goddamn him for making her feel so small and insecure … so
needy.
Her gaze rose to meet his and she inhaled sharply. His face was carved from stone. Irritation rode red on his cheekbones as his nostrils flared. His eyes narrowed and glittered dangerously. One corner of his mouth curled up, giving him a rakish edge.