by Alice Ward
I knew he’d get me top-of-the-line everything, and while most of the stuff I thought was overkill… this?
This. Was. Awesome.
For a girl who’d owned nothing more than a hand-me-down mattress in a closet-sized bedroom in a crappy house in Wintersburg, this was beyond what I’d dreamed of. Everything in here was mine. I walked over and sat on the edge of the mattress. It was a king-sized bed, delightfully fluffy, and easily the size of my bedroom back home. All mine. There were about a thousand pillows atop the bed, when at home, I’d only used one. Every one of them, even the girly round one that didn’t look comfy at all, was mine. The pictures of seashells on the wall? Mine! Everything about this place was so extra. And all mine!
I spun around the place like that chick on the mountain in “The Sound of Music,” wanting to break into song while replaying Brody’s words to me again and again. This is your one shot. Be grateful for all of it. “Wow.”
He smiled. “Your driver will be outside at six. Enjoy.”
When he pushed away from the doorjamb and turned, panic seized me. “You’re going?”
He stopped at once. “You don’t want me to?”
The windows overlooked the dark city. A city I’d spent so little time in, a city full of strangers. I’d never truly slept alone before. Even when we traveled, I’d always had someone snoring nearby in the camper, or in a room just next-door at the hotel. I hugged myself. “I just… not yet.”
What the hell was wrong with me? I was a grown woman. Like he said, I raced at speeds near two hundred miles per hour and never had a fear when most people would’ve run screaming from that. And yet something about me needed him.
So he couldn’t see my pathetic neediness, I whirled and looked out the window. “So this is Daytona? What am I looking at out here?”
He opened another set of sliding doors to the outside and led me out to a balcony. I shivered, but the breeze was warm and pleasant. He went right up to the railing, but I stood back, fidgeting, gooseflesh on my bare shoulders. “You’re afraid of heights?”
“No, of course not. I’m just…”
Terrified of them.
He nodded back as if he understood. Then he took my hand and gently helped me toward the railing, where the lights were laid out beneath us. He held me in front of him, cradling me between the railing and his hard body, and though we were at a dizzying height, I felt safe. I felt his breath on my ear. “That,” he said, pointing at the line of midnight blue against the horizon, “Is the ocean.”
“Oh, really?” I turned my head to give him a duh look, but we were too close, so I kept my sarcasm to myself.
He pointed to the left, to a dark area that broke the thousands of little lights below. “Out there is headquarters. I’ll show you the training center too. It’s not far from there.” His hand came back and brushed against my breast. The nipple stiffened. My breath hitched. Oh, god.
I leaned my back into his chest, savoring the feeling. He was like one solid wall of muscle. “Where is the speedway?”
“Behind us. The amusements and the boardwalk are over there — see those lights?”
I nodded.
“And that, over there,” he pointed to the right, his breath tickling me, his voice husky and low, “is the Streamline Hotel. That is said to be where NASCAR was born. I should take you there. They make a good burger.”
“Really?” I breathed, leaning into him. I wasn’t listening at that moment. It could have been pure gibberish because the only thing I was aware of now was his presence. I was drowning in it, and content to continue that descent.
He didn’t finish, because at that moment his mouth was on my neck, and he was kissing me there. I tilted my head to the side to give him more room to roam, and he used it. He licked his way over to the bones of my vertebra, coming in contact with the tie for my halter.
He pulled once on the tie, letting it free. Then he kissed me again and lowered my top, his hands delving under the fabric, finding my breasts. “Emma,” he growled, running the pad of his thumb over each nipple.
Then he whirled me around. His eyes locked on mine and a thrill of exhilaration surged through me. My heart pounded, and my fingers trembled as I slowly traced the outline of his perfect, full lips. Desire pooled like hot lava in his eyes, and the touch of his skin was pure electricity.
Without hesitation, our mouths came together. The second my lips connected with his, that scared feeling of being a stranger in a strange city went away. Now, I knew I was in the right place.
I kissed him softly at first, savoring the feel of him, the warm smoothness of his lips and feel of stubble on his skin. He was even more beautiful up close. I lifted my hands to his face, discovering the planes of his cheekbones, the line of his jaw, drinking him in with every one of my senses. Our tongues danced together, slowly, seductively, his thick, muscular arms tightening around me, crushing me to his rock-hard chest.
I arched up against him, claiming his mouth with my own power while Locke groaned into my mouth. The sound sent me spiraling, shivering, and I felt heat surging straight between my thighs. His hands gripped me tighter around my waist, and I felt his control with every ragged breath.
Dizzy and reeling, lost in a rush of fire, I didn’t come up for air until I absolutely had to, until I couldn’t tell whether the fire in my chest was from lack of breath or from him. When I did, he nudged my halter down, pushed me up against the wall of the balcony as his hands molded around my breasts.
“I didn’t bring you here to fuck you,” he growled into my skin as his tongue trailed down my jawline.
I wasn’t sure. It was clear Locke Cage had many, many admirers, and probably got a lot of sex. But did it matter what his reasoning was? I wanted this. Wanted more of him. As much as I could get.
“Do it anyway,” I murmured back.
That was all the permission he needed. He pushed the makeshift dress down over my hips, and it puddled at my feet. His hands were everywhere, roaming over my back, fondling my breasts. I slid my hands under his shirt and… holy chest. Holy abs. Holy everything. My stomach twisted as my fingers explored the strength of him, the ridges and valleys. There wasn’t an ounce of flab anywhere.
He pulled his shirt over his head, and as much as I wanted to feel his skin against mine, my eyes just wanted to feast on the glory that was his naked upper half. He was incredibly cut, tanned, with just a little reddish hair smattered over his pectorals. I ran my fingers through the warm field of hair, then pulled him to me, bringing our bare skin deliciously together. The heat was almost too much, sending the rest of my body screaming for more.
He kissed me desperately, hungrily, leaving my knees weak but every pore in my body operating on full overload as he kneaded my breasts. Dipping his head down, his lips closed over one taut nipple, and he sucked.
I lost it. Control. My will. Everything but my need as I arched into him, wanting more.
“Oh, god,” I murmured, sliding my hands through his hair. “Oh god.”
Where only moments before I was tired and sleepy, I was now wide awake, hungry for more. Maybe I should’ve been nervous, but when Locke sank to his knees, kneading my ass, dragging his lips down my belly, hips, and thigh, I wasn’t. “You’re so beautiful,” he said against the cotton of my pink thong.
And that was all the courage I needed. I threw my head back as his open mouth trailed down my body, delivering kisses between my legs, and…
He stopped.
Just like that, his hands loosened their grip on my ass, and he looked up at me. “Dammit,” he said, looking miserable and beautiful at once.
“What’s wrong?”
Pushing to his feet, he shoved all ten fingers through his hair as he paced away from me. Grabbing up his shirt, he thrust an arm into a sleeve before meeting my eyes. “I’m sorry. This was wrong. I shouldn’t… I… dammit. I’m sorry.”
His apology was like a punch in the gut. Slowly, I covered my breasts with my arms. “But I wanted
it too.”
The other arm was in, and he stopped the process of buttoning to run a hand down his face. “The wanting isn’t wrong, Emma. The acting on it is. You’re my property… business property. Not property for me to… dammit.”
I felt his struggle, and I still wanted him. My clit was pulsating, my nipples stiff and aroused. I was so wet, so ready for him, and he was clearly… not.
What just happened?
Very slowly, I pulled the halter back up and tied it at the base of my neck. “I wanted it too,” I said again, needing him to hear me. “I want you.”
He stopped moving and faced me, his expression a combination of sadness and something else I couldn’t name.
“I want you too, and if the situation were different, we’d be in your bed right now. But…” He shook his head. “The driver will pick you up at six. Good night.”
And damn him to hell… he left.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Locke
I was in a bad mood the second I woke up the next morning.
How in the name of God had I thought that fucking my company’s newest acquisition on the first day I brought her in was a good idea?
Part of me rued signing her. But there was nothing we could do about that. The contracts were signed, sealed, delivered. Would not be broken without death or major penalty. And she had, like Laura said, the potential to make us a gold mine.
But she was just too damn tempting.
Which wasn’t her fault. Another reason I wouldn’t break our agreement.
I prided myself on keeping a level head and keeping sexual impulses in check. But the truth had been glaringly obvious to me as I skulked out of Emma’s new apartment that night.
I couldn’t control myself around her.
Do it anyway.
As much as she played with me, pretending she could give a shit about me. Pretending she was too good for me and hated my pretty-boy tastes.
Even then, she’d wanted me to fuck her. She’d been open and ready, begging for me.
And I would have. The act had driven me wild, made me wonder what I could do to gain her approval. She was so fucking inviting, so tantalizing. I could have easily cast everything I’d stood for away and happily sank into her.
But that would only last one night, and it would have complicated everything that came after a thousand times more. At best, it would make everything sticky, but at worst, UnCaged could be slapped with a lawsuit from which we could never recover. I couldn’t jeopardize UnCaged and everything I’d worked for in that way.
As I laid in bed that night, thinking of the way her body had felt against mine, I knew what I had to do.
I had to keep as much distance as possible.
With that in mind, I decided to put in an extra workout because I had more stress than usual to work through. But at seven on the dot, as I was finishing my last round of squats, going for four-twenty this time, I got a text from Laura. Where are you?
I picked the phone up off my weight bench and typed. You can handle it without me, right?
Two seconds later. Is this a joke?
She had every reason to be surprised. I was the world’s worst micromanager. I’d never missed a single ad shoot. I had to approve all social media, all press releases, all email communications, not because I didn’t trust my employees, but because I’d worked hard to build this empire and didn’t want anything to bring it down. So, me not showing up for the first day of shooting one of our biggest ad campaigns ever at the Daytona International Speedway?
It was a big deal.
I sat on the weight bench, stroking my stubbled jaw, thinking. I was a grown adult. I navigated stickier situations than this in the boardroom every day. I couldn’t possibly ignore Emma completely. I should be able to man up and handle this.
Ripping off my weightlifting gloves, I jabbed in, I’ll be there.
Then I hit the showers. As the warm water poured over my body, I thought of the way her skin had tasted. The way her breasts had responded when I put my mouth on them. How she’d arched her back to me, so wet and ready.
Emma, in the flesh, had been a thousand times better than the fantasy.
Under the warm spray of water, I leaned my forehead against the tile wall. As my hand found my cock, I thought of the way she felt against me, that sweet pink tongue of hers trailing down my chest. I let the water massage all the tension away.
Wrapping my hand tighter, I started to stroke myself, closing my eyes, trying to imagine some nameless feminine shape hovering above me, her long, manicured fingers working up and down the shaft. I hadn’t masturbated in years, had seldom had the need to. But now, I couldn’t stop myself. And I couldn’t stop it when an image of Emma floated in, replacing the anonymous woman in my fantasy. I imagined her kneeling before me, looking up at me with those dark brown eyes, taking my cock into her mouth.
Within moments, it was over, all the pent-up frustration swirling down the drain.
Maybe that was all I needed… a good orgasm after going without for too long. Yeah. That had to be why I’d reacted so violently to Emma’s presence. I’d just needed to come.
But even as I raised my face to the warm spray of water, I knew that wasn’t true. She was still on my mind, and my cock was giving little interested pulses as I thought of her eyes, her smile, her cocky little attitude.
I couldn’t help but wonder if I was doomed.
Fuck yeah, I was. If I’d have to be in close quarters with Emma this season, there was no avoiding it. I imagined there’d be a lot more jacking off in my future.
As I drove downtown, it felt like I was heading for a funeral. My own. Sliding out of the Porsche, I hurried into the UnCaged Fitness trailer that had been parked outside the speedway. Checking my CageFree, I was only really a half-hour late. The second I went inside, Laura grabbed my arm.
“What is with you?” she said, her eyes nearly glaring through me.
“What do you mean? I got hung up.”
She jammed her hands on her hips. “So you said, but I don’t have to believe it. This is the most important day in UnCaged’s history, practically. The Locke Cage I know would’ve slept in the parking lot rather than be late for this.”
I stroked my chin. “Yeah, but I had a late night fetching our newest acquisition.”
She gave me a curious look. “She mentioned your dinner at Magnolia’s.” The way she said it made me wince. “I thought you only took women there when you wanted to get laid.”
“No,” I grouched, searching the trailer, hoping Emma hadn’t been in earshot of that. Truth was, I loved Charleston, and yes, I had taken quite a few women to Magnolia’s and ended up screwing them later. “I was craving their prawns.”
“Ri-ight.” Okay, she clearly didn’t buy it. “But I suppose your late night explains why both of you are wound up about as tight as eight-day clocks.”
“What do you—?”
Someone yelled, cutting off my words. I turned, listening closer. “If you come near me with that, I’m going to rip your balls off and shove them down your throat!”
I looked at Laura. “What the hell was that?”
“That,” she said with a smug smile, “is our newest acquisition.”
I barreled down a long narrow hallway to a small studio at the back of the trailer. Emma was standing there in a towel turban and a short terry robe that barely covered her upper thighs, breathing hard. Our stylist, Adlar, had backed her into a corner, and she was holding a hair dryer in front of her like a gun in defense.
He turned around, flustered, holding a pair of tweezers. “Herr Cage, but she must have shaping,” he explained in his thick German accent.
“I do not need shaping!” she said, planting her hands on her hips. “I’m shaped just fine, thank you!”
She could say that again. Adlar put his hands in front of him, begging. “Your eyebrows, liebling. Your eyebrows. They are like a black forest.”
She ran her fingers over her eyebrows and frowned.
“They sure as hell are not! Who the hell even notices a damn thing like an eyebrow!” She wagged a finger at me. “You didn’t tell me I had to get all prettied up. This isn’t in the contract!”
It took every bit of my willpower not to laugh. “Actually,” I said, leaning against the sink, “it is. UnCaged Fitness may modify your appearance as necessary to achieve the best product.”
My eyes dropped to her wrist. Her empty wrist. She scowled, knowing exactly what I was thinking. “Left it at the apartment,” she muttered before I could say a word about it.
Laura jumped in. “That’s okay. We can get you another one for the shoot.”
“Ugh!” She turned her accusing eyes toward me. “You were serious when you said I had to wear it?”
I studied her, wondering if she was serious. “I’d make an exception if this was any other day, but unfortunately, yes, you do need to actually wear the CageFree in the advertisement for the CageFree.”
“Oh,” she answered, having the grace to look embarrassed.
I thought we’d won the battle, but no. That was only the first round.
Emma’s eyebrow — not anywhere near a forest — raised as she took in Adlar’s disappointed frown. “If I’m not pretty enough for you as is, you have permission to photoshop me then. Make me look like a fucking Kardashian for all I care. You’re not getting that thing…” she jabbed a finger at the tweezers, “anywhere near my face!”
I held out my hands to appease her. “All right, all right.” I motioned to Adlar to cut it with the tweezers. He set them down. Crisis averted. For that moment, at least, until her eyes swept over the next offender.
“And nail polish?” she said, slumping down in the hairdresser’s chair and looking at her sulky reflection in the three-way mirror. “Seriously? I’ve not worn nail polish my whole life. Plus, he wants to cut my hair. My hair is fine like it is.”
Laura took a small step closer. “But Miss James, you gave UnCaged creative freedom with this ad and approved the script.”
“Didn’t think I was selling my soul to the devil,” she snapped. “Why don’t you get some model to race her ass around the track instead, if that’s what you want?”
