Ian sighed wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes and pushed back the need to find her, to order her back to the mansion.

“Her safety is not in question, Jason.” At least not yet. Not from anyone other than himself and his desires.

“Very well, sir.” Confusion radiated from the butler. “Shall I inform the Misters Conover, Wyman and Mr. Andrews that you will resume the meeting soon? They have expressed some question as to whether or not the previous business discussions have been concluded.”

He shook his head, turning back to the butler slowly.

“They’re in The Club?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll join them there. Please let me know when Ms. Mattlaw returns.”

“I’m certain the sound of the commotion will reach your ears before I can scurry to your location,” Jason harrumphed.

“I’m certain you’re right.” An unwilling smile tugged at his lips at the thought. “But make the attempt in any case.”

“Yes, sir.” Jason inclined his head before turning smartly and leaving the room, returning it once again to the oppressive silence which had filled it before his arrival.

You’re so depraved, Ian. I sold my soul into hell to be your woman. To what end? This is my end.

Once again, written words seared his memory.

He couldn’t control the need, the hunger. It was eating him alive, as it never had before.

He could see it, he could almost feel it.

Courtney’s sexual appetite was strong, blistering in its heat. He could see her, her eyes dazed, pleasure consuming her as her lips opened in a scream, sandwiched between him and Khalid.

The half-Saudi would complement her passions, his patience. His control would match Ian’s as they drove her past any boundary of pleasure she could have known.

He wanted to play with her. He wanted to watch her writhe on the bed, retrained, pleading, gasping for release as he and Khalid drove her past any restraint, any conscious control. He wanted, fuck, he needed—hungered—to see her reach that point where she climaxed from not more than a breath against her clit, a lick to her nipple. Where her body was so sensitized, so aroused, so perfectly attuned to the pleasure they could bring, that when they pierced her snug channels, the orgasms would roll through her, a continual progression of release that would stroke, milk, convulse around their burrowing cocks.

The need was overshadowed only by the memory of the last woman who had loved him. It was a pleasure he had wanted her to know as well.

He hung his head, breathing in roughly as his shoulders bunched with tension.

He had taken many women to his bed, experienced women, women who sought nothing more than that peak and went eagerly, too eagerly, toward it. He had thought that would be enough. It wasn’t.

Courtney would fight it. She would beg, scream, curse his control and attempt to break it, whether she knew the end result or not. It was a part of her nature. She would never give him that part of herself without a fight, without a challenge to his dominance.

“Are you finished moping yet?”

Ian turned slowly to meet Cole’s mocking gaze.

Of all those who surrounded Ian in his day-to-day life, Cole alone knew the truth of what held Ian back. He had been there, in those horrifying days after Melissa’s death.

“You’re out of line, Cole.” His jaw clenched with anger as he read the mocking condescension in the other man’s gaze.

“Am I, Ian?” He shook his head, entering the office as he closed the door behind him. “She’s a wild woman. Maybe even more than you, with all your experience, could ever hope to tame. She’s your match. Everyone sees it but you.”

“She’s an innocent,” he breathed out roughly.

“She’s not Melissa, Ian. Melissa was broken, inside. You couldn’t have anticipated that. You couldn’t see through her lies and her games because you hadn’t known her through the bad times. You had no idea that she was less than the person she showed you. You know Courtney.”

And he knew she was as wild as the wind. That she had always been impossible to peg, or to constrain. Even as a child she had been like a whirlwind, rushing around the estate, creating havoc, drawing smiles and unrestrained laughter. From the moment she turned sixteen she had tried to tempt him. God, according to her, she had watched him.

“Maybe I don’t need to share Courtney.” He pushed back his own attempts to justify what he wanted.

Cole snorted as he threw himself into one of the leather chairs in front of the desk Ian was striding to.

“Yeah, and maybe the sun doesn’t need to rise tomorrow.” He scratched at his jaw thoughtfully. “You might not need it, but I bet she does.”

Ian’s eyes narrowed. “You’re out of the running.”

“Thank God,” Cole grunted. “Tessa’s the only wild woman I can handle. If she doesn’t fuck me into an early grave it will be a miracle.”

Ian dropped into his chair, slouching into the thickly padded back as he propped his feet on the desk and leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling morosely.

Such inaction was against his nature. He had kept his involvements at a certain level for a reason, to allow himself the full immersion of his senses into his sexuality when the opportunity arose.

He was a businessman, running not just The Club, but also overseeing the various businesses his father had left him, as well as the multitude of other interests. His life was often fast-paced, filled with on-demand questions, answers, and lightning-fast business reflexes. He thrived on it. Craved it. But the stress level often became tremendous.

It was then that Ian found his sexuality rose to the fore. He began to hunger, to need the excesses he found such enjoyment in. In all honesty, he would have found relief for that by now, if it had been any other woman. He had dated the innocents, hell, he had even bedded several women whom he had known were not cut out for the life he lived. And he had always, without fail, found his ultimate satisfaction, the relief of the building stress, the loneliness, the need to just fucking give, when he was helping to send a lover to the very pinnacles of ecstasy.

It was where he hungered to send Courtney.

It was beginning to torture him, to torment him. He was beginning to fear he couldn’t hold out much longer.

“Let’s make a little bet.” Cole’s voice drew him back from his own musings.

“What kind of bet?” Ian narrowed his eyes on his longtime friend.

“Ten thousand says she pushes you into it. That she does something that shatters all that careful control you’re forcing on yourself, and before you know it, you’ll have her tied and blindfolded, screaming for mercy while you and a third work her over. Another ten says you choose Khalid.”

Ian snorted. Khalid was a given. None of the other Trojans, save for Cole, understood that particular kink.

Hell, the first was a given. He was fucked and he knew it. The only question was how much longer he could possibly hold out. He was actually beginning to pray that Dane got a clue and arrived quickly.

“Go to hell.”

“Bet still stands. Club rules. I set the challenge, it’s up to you to make or break it. Time allowances.” Cole narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “I’ll make it easy for you. A week.”

Could he hold out a week? Sure he could. A week would be easy. Especially after the phone call to Dane that he intended to make. Ian wasn’t above admitting he was drowning in a puddle of his own making.

“A week,” he agreed as Cole rose to his feet, a mocking smile tilting his lips.

“Damn. I have to come to The Club more often. This could get amusing,” he snickered as he moved to the door. “Good luck, buddy. And no padding your own bet. I wouldn’t be pleased.”

“Meaning?” Ian rose slowly to his own feet.

“Meaning. If you call Dane, all bets are off, and I make certain your sweet little innocent learns some amazing home truths. Tess is good at having loose lips when the need arises.” Cole turned back and saluted him, mocking. “‘Night, Ian.”

Ian’s fists clenched. If the son of a bitch weren’t his best friend, he would kill him.

Chapter Eight

Ian was pacing the floor at midnight when Courtney hadn’t returned to the house. At one o clock, he was cursing and nursing a stiff whisky. At two in the morning he had enough. He knew Tally too well. She was an instigator and determined to torture and torment the men she knew. She drove her husbands crazy at the office, and when they could take no more she conspired with the other women to make their husbands’ lives hell.

She was continually thinking of ways sneak into The Club without Devril or Lucian, and even worse, she was sneaking the other women in. Forget about just asking, the woman thought she had to play fucking commando.

At three that morning, the limo pulled into the driveway in front of the Conover mansion. Every light in the lower level of the house appeared to be on as Ian strode up the front steps. As the butler opened the door, a scowl on his taciturn face, Ian could hear the pulsing beat of Depeche Mode pounding through the house.

“Sir. Misters Conover have retired to that attic, I believe, for the safety of their eardrums.” It was evident Devril and Lucian had left the brawny ex-bouncer, Tim, to keep an eye out for the mayhem developing.

“I’ll collect Ms. Mattlaw.” He was forced to raise his voice by several levels as he stepped into the house and headed for the family room.

As he stepped to the doorway, he stopped in horror.

Dear God, they were all there.

Tally Conover, Tess Andrews, Ella and Terrie Wyman, Kimberly… He swallowed tightly as he watched the women toasting each other as they lay sprawled on the floor, more than a few empty bottles of wine thrown to the side. Within seconds they polished off the glasses they had just toasted each other with.

Courtney was drunk.

She polished off the wine then sprawled on her back, obviously speaking, though he doubted anyone could hear her.

He strode to the other side of the room and flipped the power switch to the CD player quickly.

“…and then he’ll be putty in your hands…” Kimberly Raddington was laughing with glee as she leaned close to a wide-eyed Courtney, her voice echoing eerily in the near-silent room.

They all seemed to freeze. Six pairs of eyes turned slowly to him as Courtney breathed out in exaggerated patience.

“Told you he would come looking for me.” The precise accent in her voice warned him that she was going to be less than cooperative. The frown that creased her brow was further proof.

“Ian, darling, that is my CD player.” Tally stayed on the floor, though her voice was less than pleased. “And Depeche Mode should never be shut off with such force.”

She sounded imperious. Furious. Too damned bad.

He rubbed at his brow wearily before staring across the room to where Courtney was struggling to come to her feet.

Her long, dark hair flowed around her shoulders, caressing her arms and trailing across one breast as she straightened to her full height. She was barefoot, her toenails shimmering beneath the bright overhead light. The soft cotton dress draped over her full breasts and caressed her hips before falling in a cloud of soft material to just below her thighs.

It was almost scandalous.

And she was damned cute.

The thought slammed into his chest with the force of a sledgehammer.

She was cute. Soft and sweet, and so desirable it was all he could do to maintain his fragile control. He wanted to smile at her. His heart seemed to melt at the sight and that terrified the hell out of him.

“Hi, Ian.” Her smile was wide, her dark eyes gleaming with slumberous amusement. “Did you miss me?”

“Horribly.” His lips twisted with an edge of self-mockery as he advanced on her. “The stores delivered your clothing this evening. I think you’ve emptied them for a while. Are you ready to come home now?”