Gage held there, his heart shuddering so violently in his chest that every inch of him quivered with each rippling kick. Drained, he sagged over her, then slid boneless to his side, face pressed to the hollow of her nape where he drank in her scent and felt the wild leap of Victory's pulse rising to greet him.

Good, he thought weakly. He hadn't been the only affected.

"Wow," Victory sighed, hand to her brow, eyes closed and lips spread wide into a grin. "Oh, wow."

Gage pushed to his elbow, a feat he barely managed. Christ, he was as weak as a baby, he thought disgusted, and had acted with all the lusty finesse of a horny teenager unable to get a grip over the violence of his hunger. But damned if he hadn't loved every second. He pressed his lips to her shoulder, trailed them up along her throat to nip at her jaw.

Victory laughed. "Wow," she repeated and turned her gaze to him so she could study the strong angles and hard curves of his face. 

If he'd shaved away the scrap of golden stubble, he'd be strikingly beautiful, she thought. But there was an edge to his features that Roarke lacked, and it showed in the slight curve of his nose, the firm angle of his jaw, casting him somewhere between boxer and poet. His lips, full and tempting, soft in contrast to the hard curve of his chin, inviting either a kiss or a punch, and likely able to handle both in equal measure. His eyes had gone a deep and dreamy where the blue flirted with the charcoal flecks in a way that made her mouth water.

She'd had intense sex before. And great sex. And intense and great sex, but this was something beyond either of the two.

More than just lust or desire, but carnal need, primitive, raw and thrilling as hell. As instinctive and beyond control as breathing. And she had been the air he'd greedily gulped down to live. Taking all she had and demanding more.

"Are you okay?" he asked, voice soft and tender, his hand skimming along the curve of her shoulder then across to the other. She was so damn beautiful, he thought. A natural beauty that punched him straight in the gut, made it hard to think, focus...breathe. A beauty he could sit and stare at all day, enjoying and marveling at the harmony of perfections and imperfections that, to him, made her the most alluring woman he'd ever seen.

"Sensational." She sighed into a stretch, curving her back in a way that made him lift a brow in appreciation. "I have to admit, when I dreamed about you—us—this—I didn't picture anything quite so intense."

"Oh?" he asked with an arched brow, amused. "Did I live up to your expectations?"

"Blew them out of the water." That elicited a laugh from him, and the blush she found sweetly endearing.

"I don't know what came over me." Gage admitted. As his gaze roamed down the naked and sweat glistening length of her, the bite of hunger snarled deep within him anew. Every bit as bright and wild as it had been but a moment ago.

"Christ, you're gorgeous. This body of yours is a weapon, Ms. Clarke."

Shaking her head, Victory slapped his shoulder. "Oh, please." Sliding over him, she planted her hands to his chest, straddling his hips, and was surprised to find him already hard and throbbing between them. "My, don't you recover quickly?"

"I pride myself on my health and stamina. I just thought it best to give you a moment to catch your breath." Gage crossed his arms above his head, smiling with a cheeky sort of grin. "Don't want to wear you out so soon."

She leaned in towards him, her voice all smoke and smolder, "I can handle anything you've got."

"That so?" His eyes deepened with a smolder of their own. Quick, his movements graceful as a fighter, Gage pinned her under him with one smooth roll. "Those were some bold words." Braced between her legs, he slid into her, slow and easy, watching as the light of amusement in her eyes burned away to blazing arousal.

"Let's put them to the test."

#

She woke to brilliant sun and streaming summer breeze pushing through open windows overlooking a clear sky.

Victory lay in bed, draped over the edge, every inch of her loose, limber and deliciously sore. The storm had raged for the better part of the night, every bit as wild and savage as the two of them. She'd never experienced anything quite so raw in her life. To consume and be so equally consumed, even the memory of it gave her chills and stirred her blood.

Lifting her face from the pillow, she glanced over to see the smooth wall of his muscular back, his body cut across the bed at an angle so that his feet dangled well over the edge, and his soft, rattling snores reverberated into the duvet.

Careful not to wake him, Victory eased from the bed, and naked, padded into the bathroom where she shut the door and dug through her purse for her cell phone. Flipping it open, she winced first, at the time, and second, at the number of missed calls from Niobe.

"Hi," she whispered after dialing back without even bothering to comb through the text messages or voicemail, "Bee, I'm so sorry."

"Well, thank you, sweet baby Jesus, you're alive. Did you just happen to forget that we had an early brunch to discuss the wedding?"

"Of course not." Victory struggled into a pair of discarded jeans. "I'm just running a tad behind." Stooping over, she rummaged through a pile of clothing that looked clean, found an off the shoulder beige knit sweater and shrugged it on, forsaking the hope of digging up a bra.

"Look, if you're too busy," Niobe snarled, "I can do this on my own. Not like I expected my Maid of Honour to be—"

Closing her eyes with a grumbling sigh, Victory shook her head as Niobe, always the sort to morph into a snarling green hulk monster when it came to missing dates and deadlines, lanced through her tirade. Once the beast was unleashed, there only was only two ways to soothe her ruffled feathers.

Shopping and gossip. So Victory reached for the only available straw.

"I slept with Gage last night." The line went dead, after the space of a heartbeat, she heard Niobe's delighted squeal.

"Okay, get your ass over here so you can tell me all about it—love you—bye," she gushed in a single breath before hanging up.

Glancing down at her phone, Victory smiled, laughed. Then, remembering the time, cursed and made a frantic—but quiet—dash for the door.

The air held thick with all the moisture from last night's storm rising into the air with the surge of summer temperatures. Heat and humidity bounced off the sidewalk like grease in a cast iron skillet.

In the cab, Victory sent Gage a quick explanatory and apologetic message, promising to call as soon as she was free, and then switched gears returning a few business calls.

By the time she pulled up to the corner of Bloor and Avenue road, a sheen of sweat slicked her skin and her hair had all the volume of an 80's rock band.

Shouldering her buttery caramel Michael Kors tote, she slipped off her sunshades and strode through the pristine entrance of the Park Hyatt.

Inside, the lobby spread with floors of marble, brimming with stately bellhops and dignified guests by the check-in counter, manned by a woman who rivaled the models strutting the Victoria Secret's runway. Victory admired the plush leather sofas of the lounge surrounded by rich, dark wood paneling, counters of creamy natural stone covered with vases of flowers and sunlight spilling in through a wall of bright windows overlooking an extravagant fountain.

Women in Hermes and men in Hugo Boss breezed in and out the front doors, slipping into the back of luxury limo sedans or behind the wheels of an exotic Maserati. She glanced down at her ripped jeans, oversized off the shoulder sweater of natural cotton blend and soft butter brown flats.

Hoping to tame and detangle the bedhead she hadn't had the time to comb, Victory ran a hand through her hair and caught more than one pursed lip or arched brow aimed in her disheveled direction.

"Victory?"

She spun around at the sound of her name and faced Isabel.

"Wonderful, you're here." She smiled, and then gestured to her left, a petite Filipino woman, elegantly dressed in a black suit, keen eyes fixed in smiling half-moons and delicate lavender pearls gracing the lobes of her ears. "This is Rebecca Blanco, Director of Catering with the Hyatt. Victory is Ms. Pierce's Maid of Honour."

"Oh." Victory immediately brightened with recognition as Rebecca stuck out a hand and shook hers with two brisk pumps, her grip firm but friendly. "Nice to meet you, and to put a face to all the emails firing between you and Niobe."

"Yes, likewise." Rebecca beamed, folding her hands in front, linking fingers as she stood straight and proud as a castle guard outside Buckingham Palace. "Ms. Pierce and Mrs. Donovan are waiting at our Roof Top Terrace for your brunch meeting."

"I just have to make a few calls. Victory, I'll see you up there." Phone already in hand, Isabel hurried towards the entrance and was gone before she could utter a word.

"Shall I escort you up, Ms. Clarke?"

"Victory, and please, if it's not too much trouble." She smiled. "I'd likely get lost. Terrible sense of direction."

"No trouble at all." With a sweep of her arm and a dainty little quarter turn on smart black pumps, Rebecca strode off, curvy hips swaying with the rhythm of her brisk pace. They walked down a corridor, along a mezzanine, then through a set of oak doors into a smaller, secondary lobby with a bank of elevators.

The deeper they went into the hotel, the more Victory was astounded by its decadent, vintage beauty.

"This place," she said, gazing up at an impressively large ornate crystal semi-sphere chandelier that glistened and shimmered with radiant light. "I'm tempted to say this is the most gorgeous hotel I've ever set foot in."

Inside the elevator, Rebecca punched the button for the 19th floor.

"I'm pleased to hear you say so. The Hyatt prides itself on maintaining its heritage charm while ensuring the highest standards of sophistication, luxury and extravagance."

The ride up was short and the doors popped open with a cheery ping, leading them straight into a lounge reception complete with aged bar, varnished and gleaming in the low light. Passing through the heavy wood doors, Victory stood in the heart of the Roof Top Salon and smiled.

The room was intimate, just large enough for the eighty-five guests Niobe had on her list with enough space for a dance floor and dessert table. The ceilings boasted the same large semi-spherical crystal chandeliers, elegantly dispersed, adorning the room like jewels fit for a queen. Victory conjured a picture in her mind, filling the empty room with tables and floral centerpieces, guests and music.

In a space like this, the wedding was going to be a showstopper.

And the view!

The terrace cut down the entire length of the room, creating an L-shaped wall of windows that provided a rare and unobstructed sight-line overlooking the city-scape.

"It's even better at night." Standing next to her, Rebecca smiled with apparent pride as she fanned her hands across the stretch of windows. "When the sky is dark, the stars are out, city streets alive and the CN Tower lit up."

"I'll bet."

"Vee!" She turned in time to brace as Niobe leapt and caught Victory with an enthusiastic embrace. "Finally, you're here."

Politely excusing herself, Rebecca strode away with the same brisk, swaying stride and was gone, leaving Victory at Niobe's mercy as she dragged her towards the terrace doors.

Outside, the sun had risen high and the air held enough of a breeze to take the edge off the sticky summer heat. Victory slipped back on her shades as Niobe slid around a table dressed with enough class to bring a tear to Coco Chanel's eye. .

Shayne, already seated, lifted her mimosa in greeting.

"Good morning," she purred in her natural sex-kitten voice, dressed in a breezy summer dress of periwinkle blue, black gypsy curls loose and tumbling around bare shoulders. "Aren't we looking ravishing?"

"I think you mean ravished," Niobe snickered, sweeping her length of thick glossy hair over her shoulder to cascade down her slender back. Like Shayne, she wore a flowing maxi dress of coral that skimmed her ankles, jazzed up with a golden tribal necklace looped around her neck giving her a chic amazon goddess edge.

"So, my dear," elbows propped on the table, she linked fingers and propped a chin on their bridge. "You have some gossip to share in penitence for your lack of punctuality."

Victory settled into the unoccupied seat, purse in her lap, and faced an intrigued Shayne and impatient Niobe. Taking a moment, she sipped at the frothy bubbles of champagne sweetened with fresh orange juice and a hint of pineapple.

Shayne's eyes cooled. "Perhaps this is a conversation Victory would feel more comfortable sharing in private."

"That's absurd. We're all girls here. So?" Niobe prodded again with a roll of her hand. "Get to the goods, woman. And don't you dare skimp on details."

"Alright." Holding her glass, Victory leaned forward with a smile. "I am going to preface this by saying that Gage is, hands down, the best lover I've had."

Shayne laughed. Niobe squealed.

"His hands are the perfect combination of rough and dangerous but smooth and graceful. He does things with his mouth that I am sure should be illegal and stamina?" Biting her lip, she rolled her eyes. "I don't think I got a wink of sleep until sometime after five. And it wasn't just him, but me. I couldn't stop. I couldn't get enough."

"And is he sporting a few little token trophies from you, as well?" Shayne asked, sweeping her finger in Victory's direction, gesturing from head to toe, left to right.

"Holy mother—" Eyes bulging, Niobe gasped and slapped her hands dramatically atop the glass table with a loud whack. "How did I not see that?"

Heat flashed in Victory's cheeks and she pressed a hand to the right side of her neck as realization struck. "Oh, Jesus, I forgot about that."

"Did he bite you?"

"And not just there." Shayne noted, recognizing the sultry gleam of memory in Victory's eyes. "Bravo. I see Roarke's baby brother is about to give him a run for his money as 'stud of the year'. But, try though he may," her grey feline eyes shone full of lusty pride, "it's no contest, ladies. My man has all others beat."

"So you say," Smiling, Niobe cut into a corner of her light, fluffy omelette of egg whites and spinach, "but then, we're all biased when it comes to our men, aren't we?" After pausing to taste a sample of her eggs and a swish of champagne, she lanced Victory with a glare.

"Start from the beginning, missy, and leave nothing out."