Controlled Response

Page 9

She could have pulled them free, had thought about it as he walked away, but for some reason didn't want to do so until he said to do it. That should have discomfited her, just like him being fifteen feet away and staring at her in such wanton display, but his expression was suffused with pure male hunger. She couldn't help noticing how enormous he was, pushing hard against the slacks.
"God, I'd keep you like this if I could." Coming back to her, he knelt and put the square of his folded handkerchief between her legs.
She let out a shuddering moan at the feel of the cotton linen. A linen that likely smelled like his light cologne. "What are you doing?"
"Cleaning you. Ostensibly." He cocked his head, that sharp profile turning in her direction, in handsome contrast to the soft feather of sun-streaked hair on his forehead. "I also want to keep your scent close, so I can take it out and enjoy it this afternoon."
"That should be distracting," she whispered.
His lips curved. "All part of my diabolical plan."
But there was quiet care in the way he tended to her, drying her where her fluids had dampened in the crease between thigh and buttock, the delicate pocket between the lips of her sex and her legs. While it emphasized that she was spread open for him in embarrassing detail, his hand, high on her thigh, told her he expected her to stay that way.
And she did.
As a slow stroke over the clit made her lower extremities behave as if they could quickly moisten for him again, she almost blurted out that her overreaction to him was because she hadn't had sex in a long time. Fortunately, she caught herself, recognizing the weakness that would reveal. The best thing, just like the faux pas with Savannah, was to say nothing about the earth-shattering orgasm she'd just had and move on to the next step.
Which would be freeing her hands, which didn't appear to be functioning.
"Lucas." She tilted her head up, vaguely concerned to see a blue tinge to her fingertips.
"Ah, hell. Sorry, sweetheart." Bringing her arms down, he unwrapped her hands, showing red marks on her palms from her passion. On, crap. Did she have similar red marks along her cheeks, where she'd pulled the tie against her mouth? A quick lift and glance at the mirror showed she was okay.
"Silk is an abysmal binding. Not that safe, really." Easing her to a sitting position, he shifted her onto his lap and began to chafe her hands and wrists, making the blood rush back in.
It was uncomfortable, only because it wasn't. She was sitting on Lucas Adler's thighs, wearing no panties since he'd torn away her thong. The desire to move against the light scratch of wool, against the hard evidence of his unappeased lust, was almost overwhelming, particularly when she saw the flex of his jaw in reaction to the pressure of her bottom. Her heels had tumbled onto the carpet of the small retiring room.
But more than the erotic nature of the position, being held in a man's arms like this was so welcome she hoped the shudder that went through her would pass as just another aftershock, rather than a sign of emotional deprivation.
Clearing her throat, she tried to sound reasonable. "So how much time before the lunch break is up?"
"About ten minutes." He glanced at his watch, then back up at her face, his eyes lingering in that unsettling way. "As beautiful as you are, it will take less than half that for you to put yourself back together."
"I have no underwear."
"No." He traced the line of her temple. "Just think how you can torture me, knowing you're not wearing any. I can hardly walk as it is."
"There is that," she agreed, shifting. "You're giving diamonds a run for their money."
"Sorry. Uncomfortable?"
Yes. Because of how much I want you inside me. Struggling up, she tried to ignore how he put his hands to her waist and helped her to her feet. She moved away and collected her clothes before heading toward the closest stall. She wasn't going to put herself together in front of him. The slow burn of desire, the physical and something far more precarious, was still licking away at her insides. This had been a mistake. "I . . ." She forced herself to stop. "You didn't have me take care of you."
"I love that you think of it in those terms." The possessive gaze moving up her body, starting at her feet and working its way to her throat, was enough to hold her in place, as if he still had some kind of tether holding her to him. "Would you go down on your knees, Cass? Take my cock in your mouth if I commanded you to do it?"
The image made her already shaky legs quiver. She found herself unable to answer without making a fool of herself, more than she had already. As he rose from the couch, she held the clothes in a tight fist at her midriff Then she realized there was a mirror behind her. He could see her back in the laced corset, her bare ass flared out beneath it.
Before she could turn, he had his arms around her, his hands descending to cup her there as he stared over her shoulder. "Gorgeous. Ben would be drooling all over himself. He's a dedicated ass man."
Lucas knew he was pushing the contact on her, that she was trying hard to retreat, but he couldn't let her go just yet. Before she'd moved back to the tile, she'd stepped into her heels again, elongating a pair of already mouthwatering legs. One thigh was revealed all the way to the bare hip on one side, while she held the clothes so the skirt covered her bare mons and most of the other leg. The faint red lines of the silk he'd used to bind her hands were still discernible there. Her breasts quivered, just a bit, from her breath. The blond hair was tousled over her shoulders. She was stunning, and she didn't even know it.
She thought she'd fucked up, and she was getting ready to bolt again, even though he knew she'd wanted this. Even when she'd called him an accountant like it was an insult, she'd given him that tantalizing flick of a glance. A challenge. Take me down. Take me over. Make it worth the fight.
"Don't say it was wrong." Bending, he pressed his lips to her bare shoulder, smoothed his palms down her delicious buttocks.
"Lucas." She closed her eyes. "I worked my ass off to get where I am. And if you make any jokes about my ass—"
"Shh. Hey." Lucas cupped her face, gave her an even look. "What's between us doesn't have anything to do with your reasons for being here. I'm going to go out there and make you fight for every point."
He made himself give her a friendly, reassuring smile, hoping to ease her fears, when he really wanted to say to hell with the meeting and abduct her. "Are you up for the challenge, or have I scrambled your brains too much?"
Something loosened in Cass's chest. It didn't alleviate the deeper concern, her personal uneasiness with her more-than-sex reaction to him, but she could manage that. Men often lied, but she could tell he wasn't lying about being professional. Unfortunately, the integrity in his eyes made the deeper concern worse. She liked him.
"I don't have to fight about it." Tilting her head away, she gave him an arch look. "You're just not going to get everything you want."
"Oh, really?" His gaze lifted to the mirror again. "This is looking pretty close to everything I want. In fact, I'm not seeing a reason to go back to the meeting at all."
She shoved him back, with a tentative smile. "All right, get out now. I want to put myself back together. Then I'll come cut you down to size."
Thinking she'd delivered that line with the proper nonchalance, she stepped into the stall, only to look over her shoulder and see that humor had become laced with fire.
"Jesus, you should see yourself walk in those heels bare-assed, wearing a corset.
Sweetheart, you're going to make me embarrass myself. I haven't come in my pants since I was twelve. Care to bet dinner on how things go this afternoon?"
"I have plans," she said, trying to ignore the heat that washed over her from his words, even as her heart began to pound again. "Indefinitely."
When his gray eyes rose to her face, she caught a thrilling glint of danger there. But his tone stayed mild. "Okay, then. We bet something different. We have nine clauses to resolve this afternoon. If I get the balance of what I want, I win. Which means tomorrow I choose a different way to make you come."
"What if I win?" She congratulated herself for not showing any reaction to that, for sounding unimpressed.
He gave her a smile that Lucifer could borrow. "That's up to you. For example, maybe your idea will be to yank me into the men's room for the wham, bam, thank you ma'am sex you act like we both want. Though I warn you, the men's room doesn't have a lock."
"I'm beginning to understand why the women feel they need one. I'm not going for it."
"Are you worried you'll lose?"
"That was a pathetic attempt at peer pressure. I outgrew that a long time ago." Even though she closed the stall door, she sensed he was watching her feet shift, the deft balancing act as she shimmied back into her skirt. When she heard a step, she looked up to see him in the stall next to her, looking over the edge.
"That's a sexy little wriggle you've got there. If this business thing doesn't work out, lap dancing might be in your future."
"Now that's just the type of obnoxious remark I expect from manufacturing moguls."
"I figured. Wanted to put you back in your comfort zone."
She would not smile. She made herself send him a frown instead, buttoning her blouse.
"If I concede to play at all, a game I don't have to play, you've already won."
"But I have something you want. As nice as that orgasm was, what you need, or rather what you think you need for closure, is my cock rammed deep into that tight, wet pussy of yours. My body lying on yours, your legs wrapped around my back while I pound into you until it's all done."
Looking down to hook the top button, she began to busy herself with tucking in the shirt.
"I can get that elsewhere, without jumping through your hoops."