Her gaze scanned over his stunning body. His tie-dyed undershirt hugged every muscled plane of his chest. She should walk away and continue to avoid him, but the forlorn look on his face drew her to him. The lost little boy thing he had going appealed.

Carly sat down on the leather sofa next to him. "You talked to Nigel, didn't you? On my behalf."

"Aye. Why not? I have some sway. Why not use it? You're a good manager, Carly. You're not to blame for my feckin' disasters. I swear I didn't know the weed was there," Byrne whispered.

"I believe you."

To her everlasting shock she found she did believe him. She more or less had believed him in Toronto, but she hadn't spoken it aloud until tonight. It was her experience these petulant rock stars would lie through their teeth to get their way. She could tell when they were lying. Byrne was not being untruthful here.

He moved closer and put his arm around her. "You don't know what it means that you believe me. I think we make a good team."

Carly couldn't help but snort. "You're so full of shit, Byrne. Irish blarney, that's you."

The good-natured ribbing was soon replaced by something else: a blast of raw sensual heat very similar to the night on the beach. His skin sizzled and enveloped her in his sexual aura. The wave seared her where her side touched his. In a smooth, quick move, Byrne pulled her onto his lap. She didn't fight it. His hand caressed her bare leg with decided purpose and thoroughness. The feeling sent sparks to all parts of her body.

"What in hell are you doing?" she whispered.

Byrne nuzzled her neck. "Touching you."

The hardness of his cock was very evident under her ass. Carly had already seen his impressive equipment on the beach. She couldn't help imagining it now, considering she was all but impaled on him. He pulled her in tighter, his hand stroked her back, and his lips moved closer.

"I like sitting women on my lap, always did," he murmured.

"Byrne… don't."

She didn't move off him or push him away. He laid light kisses on her cheeks and her chin while purposely avoiding her lips. He teased her, and his sensual mouth was the weapon of choice. The Irish bastard.

"Don't what? Touch you? Kiss you?"

Oh, God, she wanted him to do more than touch and kiss her. She had closed the door when she walked in, but she hadn't secured it. Would it be frigging obvious if she jumped to her feet, ran to the door, and locked them in? Carly was weary. The emotional roller coaster ride she'd been on since taking this assignment chipped away at her resolve to stay immune to Byrne. She didn't want to fight it anymore. Her hand touched his cheek. Freshly shaved. His greenish, whiskey-colored eyes were clear, lucid, and filled with desire. Holy hell.

She kissed him with a long, deep, and passionate purposefulness that bordered on wantonness. In return he growled, and the snarl sounded sexy and animalistic. In a single slick move, Byrne placed her on her back with him on top. All the while their kiss continued as his hands explored her body. Before she could blink, her top was unbuttoned and her bra pushed toward her chin to expose her breasts. Byrne groaned again.

"Bloody stunning. I knew they would be."

His mouth clamped on one of her nipples, and she cried out. His tongue swirled, his lips sucked, and her spine arched upward. Her hands tunneled through his silken black and white hair. Oh, God, she was so turned on. She wanted to be fucked, hard and deep. One of Byrne's hands cupped her breast and squeezed as he bit on her nipple. The electric sensations sparked her lust to even greater heights. Carly had never been this damned horny. She spread her legs as far apart as she could in invitation.

"Fuck me, Byrne. Fuck me." She didn't recognize her own voice. It was harsh and raspy like the possessed kid in the Exorcist movie. She crossed her legs tightly behind his ass with her high heels pressed into his lower back. She was seconds away from begging and pleading. She would do anything to have his cock pound her fast and furiously. She moved her own hips and moaned her frustration.

Byrne took one last lick of her red, swollen nipple, and then gazed into her eyes. "No, I don't want to fuck. I want to make love—to you."

He kissed her hard with a possessive claiming. His hips moved in a sensual rhythm, and she could feel every thick, long inch of his prick pressed against her core. His tongue was magical, its thrusts matching the movement of his slim, muscular hips. They were both panting and moaning.

"Oh, Jaysus!" he groaned. He pulled back and gazed down at her. "Do you want to go further?"

Did she? Hell, yeah, she'd said so. Wait a second—VD. "Do you have a rubber?"

"Aye, in my wallet. Are you sure, Carly?" His voice was husky, sexy, and turning her to liquid.

"Aye," she smiled.

Byrne laughed. Even his laugh sounded sexy as hell. She had never seen a man move so fast. He unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock out through his fly. She couldn't keep the gasp from escaping her lips. Okay, it was a slight exaggeration he could strap his prick to his leg but it was damned close. Seeing his dick up close aroused her further. He rolled on the condom.

Carly laid back and closed her eyes. She expected to be fucked. Instead, Byrne again kissed her. The result was molten, blood-boiling ecstasy. The head of his cock teased her soaking wet folds. Still, he didn't enter her. Slowly and languidly he caressed her body and senses. She opened her eyes. He was beautiful. No, Byrne was not fucking her. He was making love to her, just as he'd said. Carly blinked back her gathering tears. She did not expect this tender, thorough lovemaking from Brogan Byrne, the rock monster. His cock moved aside the slim piece of silk covering her wetness, pushed into her folds a couple of inches, and then he pulled back. Next he moved in a little deeper and then back out again. It was torture—agonizing, sweet torment. She wriggled her hips impatiently. Carly could feel the smile in his kiss. His tongue plunged deeper, and at the exact same moment his cock pushed in to the hilt.

She cried out, not from pain but from pure raw pleasure. His tongue thrusts matched the movement of his cock. She dug her heels into his back even more, angling her hips for a slick, solid stroke. This was beyond anything she'd ever experienced. Her hands grasped the muscular globes of his jean-clad ass. Carly pulled Byrne in as tight as she could. He pulled away from the kiss and nuzzled her neck again before he traced passionate kisses down to her collarbone, then up to her neck. His tongue whorled her ear and he bit down on her earlobe. Oh, hell, the sensations. Still, his cock continued his desirous pumping. He never broke his stride.

Brogan didn't plan this—not today, anyway. He halted his movements and looked down into her flushed face. Perhaps Carly was interested in him a little. He never thought it would be enough to consent to sex. Okay, maybe he had an inkling she might be game for a toss in the sheets. This was beyond some quick shag on the sofa, even though every indication stated this is just what it was.

He stared deeply into her glorious hazel eyes. For once he hid nothing, and for once neither did Carly. Something passed between them beyond the physical. A joining of souls. His hands cupped her blushing cheeks. "Do you feel it?"

Carly bit her lower lip. She nodded in agreement as she understood his meaning. Brogan brushed his thumb past her full, swollen lips. Aye, this was more than sex. He moved his hips, and Carly moaned. He increased the power of his thrusts. He wanted to savor every touch and every slide of his cock. His thoughts were interrupted by Carly's moans growing more intense. She was going to come. He captured her lips in his and swallowed her cry of desire as she shook and shuddered under him. Feckin' hell, he was going to black out from the intensity of his own building orgasm. His head lifted, and he growled through his clenched teeth as his climax followed hers. The spasms went on for several minutes. Carly clasped his body and rode the wave with him. Brogan lowered his forehead to hers.