Looking Inside

by BETH KERY

  Forcing herself not to look away from him entirely, her gaze slid down his mouthwatering, cut torso to the book he held on one long, jean-covered thigh. He abruptly moved the open book a few inches so that it blocked his crotch. She caught the title.

  Pride and Prejudice?

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  She’d pegged him for committing to reading a book on technology and its interface with art and creativity, a weighty history or maybe even a Hemingway novel that he’d always wanted to finish. But Pride and Prejudice, that beacon of feminine escape and pleasure, not to mention Eleanor’s favorite book of all time? It was disorienting, almost as if he’d been the one to arrive here tonight with the explicit purpose of seducing her versus the other way around.

  She glanced back up at his face again. His brow knitted slightly in consternation above his glasses. She realized belatedly he’d noticed her amazed expression upon seeing his book choice. Worried she’d exposed her hand yet again, Eleanor forced her attention back to page one of her book.

  Have you ever met a person that completely altered you, to such a degree that you left your everyday self behind and did something outrageous? Exciting?

  Forbidden?

  That’s what happened to me when I first laid eyes on my boss, Xander MacKenna. I took one look into eyes as black and deep as the devil’s own, and in the seconds it took me to catch my breath, I’d become his slave. Mock me if you will. Call me spineless or a naïve young fool. Label me a sick nymphomaniac if it makes you feel better. But know this. I’m free now, thanks to his touch and his punishments, his harsh commands and his epic tenderness.

  And after you hear my true story, I dare you not to envy me.

  She resisted rolling her eyes and smirking. Well, Ms. Andora St. Honore certainly knew how to set a stage, Eleanor thought wryly. Maybe it was a cliché, but it was an arousing one. Even though she was amused by the introduction, she was also titillated. Still, she was more focused on Trey than the book. Her awareness was like iron, and he was a powerful magnet. It was like his gaze tied it all together: him, her, the book. Every cell in her body seemed to orient itself in his direction.

  She glanced up cautiously and saw that he was staring directly at her crossed thighs and crotch. She read pure male hunger in his expression.

  He wanted her.

  Her clit pinched in arousal. She wiggled her hips slightly to alleviate the ache, and suddenly his gaze shot to her face.

  You are the most beautiful, exciting man I’ve ever seen. I just want to bite you all over.

  The force behind her thought was so precise, so powerful, Eleanor felt like she’d just yelled the truth of her lechery out loud to the whole room. Her eyes widened in alarm. Trey Riordan knew what she was thinking. He had to, given the potency of her desire. She stared at her book, seeing nothing. Overwhelmed by mixed self-consciousness and excitement, she flipped a thin section of pages, trying to even her erratic breathing. She read nervously.

  “I’m not trying to humiliate you, Katherine. But a woman who makes such obvious mistakes repeatedly is searching for an obvious consequence.”

  I held my ground in front of his desk, but Xander’s midnight eyes burned me deep. I knew what was about to happen. I craved it as much as I feared it.

  “What consequence is that?” I asked, my head held high.

  “I’m going to punish you. I’m going to lay you across my lap and spank you.”

  Lust bit at me. I wanted to put my hand between my thighs and rub myself to silence that horrible wanting. But I couldn’t. I was too proud.

  “Like hell you are.”

  “Like hell I am,” he said, standing behind his desk. I was reminded of how tall he was. How intimidating . . . how beautiful. “Come here.” He put out his hand, beckoning me to him. I stood there, wild with wanting, but afraid to commit to my secret desire.

  Suddenly, his hard, unyielding expression altered. Was that compassion that glowed in his amazing eyes?

  “You can walk away, of course,” he said, his deep, rough voice caressing my prickling skin. “But you have courage, Katya. I saw that in you from the first. Take a deep breath.” I inhaled shakily. “Good. Now come to me.”

  Something inside me had awakened when he called me by what became his pet name for me for the first time. Katya. It sounded a little like my name, but it was different, like he’d recognized a woman inside me that I hadn’t, as if he’d seen a secret woman hiding beneath my skin, a more exciting one. The syllables rolling off his tongue were a call . . . a spell, licking some deep, secret place in my soul, melting my fear. I found myself walking around his desk, unable to look away from his dark, compelling stare.

  “Lift your skirt to your waist,” he said.

  Someone coughed loudly, fracturing Eleanor’s attention. She looked up and saw a bearded man’s face in the crowded coffee house, his stare on her eager . . . a little manic, the truth be told. He’d been the one to cough in order to get her attention. Her gaze darted to Trey. He was turned in profile, but he looked at her at the same moment she looked at him. He too had glanced up from his reading when the guy had coughed. She rolled her eyes slightly and smiled. He smiled back.

  Incredulous euphoria shot through her.

  The book had been steamy, but the quick, nonverbal exchange with Trey was much hotter. Maybe it was because although he was a stranger, she knew so many private things about him. Once, she’d watched, her heart in her throat, while Trey had positioned a naked, curvaceous blonde bent over his bed. Then he’d spanked her while he’d pleasured her with a vibrator.

  Afterward, he’d taken her hard and thoroughly. Eleanor still recalled the woman’s openmouthed expression of unbearable bliss. It had excited her beyond belief.

  He had. He had a way in the bedroom, there was no doubt about it.

  Presently, Trey’s gaze remained steady on her. He had an easygoing, laidback manner that was about a hair’s-breadth thick. At least that’s how it seemed to her. Beneath that golden, bad-boy persona, she sensed his simmering focus. She realized the insides of her naked thighs were damp with a layer of perspiration . . . and arousal.

  His glance flickered down to her book. She read curiosity in his gaze . . . a little amusement. Or was it a silent question? She looked down at his book pointedly—he was still holding it on his thighs, blocking the view of his crotch from her. She arched her eyebrows. His smile widened, and she knew he’d read her amused counter query about his reading choice for the event.

  Hiding her grin, she determinedly turned her attention to her book. He was definitely nibbling at the hook. Reeling him in at the right moment was the delicate part.

  It was quite a challenge, reading the erotic scene where Xander had Katya lie in his lap and spanked her bare bottom while she writhed around in mounting excitement, all the while knowing Trey Riordan was watching her. Part of her was triumphant, though, as mean as that was. All those times she’d watched him while he made those other women scream, and she’d been forced to watch.

  And suffer.

  Now the tables had been turned, hadn’t they?

  By the time she’d almost finished the spanking scene, her cheeks were hot from arousal. Xander finally gave Katya what she needed by bringing her to climax with his hand at the end of her punishment.

  At the end of the chapter, she found herself biting down on her lower lip. Did she think she’d cry out in ecstasy, like Katya did as she exploded with pleasure? Maybe so, because her sex was on fire.

  She glanced up furtively, still biting down on her lower lip. Vaguely, she was aware that several men’s faces were turned her way, but she only had eyes for Trey. His stare on her was unguarded now . . . even hotter and sharper than before.

  She reacted purely on instinct. Entranced by what she read in his gaze, she slowly uncrossed her legs and swiveled slightly in her chair, so that she dire
ctly faced Trey. There was nothing obstructing his view, even if there was plenty keeping others from witnessing her outrageous behavior.

  She opened her thighs several inches, feeling the cool air tickle her aching, naked sex.

  —

  He pulsed with lust. Thank God for this otherwise worthless book, because it was the only thing partially shielding the huge tent in his jeans. Had he ever had such a raging erection in public? He didn’t think so. Because in the past, he would have done something about it. But presently, he couldn’t move. He was a complete hostage to her. God he hurt, watching in enthralled fascination as the woman submersed herself in the pages. At first, her fingers played with that curl that fell distractingly across the swell of her breast. After a minute, however, she gripped both sides of the book tightly, like she was steadying herself for a bumpy ride.

  He knew she was reading an erotic scene, of course. He knew it from the way her cheeks, lips and chest flushed with color and her breathing grew slightly erratic. When she bit down on her lower lip with small white teeth and tensed her thighs, he thought for a frantic moment he was going to come in his pants like some kind of horny, thwarted teenager.

  He couldn’t believe how quickly she’d turned him into a rutting pig, when his intentions in coming here had been so pure. For a few seconds, his irritation at her for making him want her so much cut through his intense lust.

  Until she looked up and met his stare, and he saw that her heat equaled his.

  Until she slowly turned in her chair, as though she were in a trance, and spread her thighs. Her skirt eased up her legs another inch higher. His heart seized. His cock jumped eagerly.

  The little tease wasn’t wearing any underwear.

  The cleft between her thighs was shadowy. He strained to see, all the while holding his breath. Jesus. He wiped the perspiration off his upper lip, his brain and body buzzing in furious arousal. Not only was she not wearing underwear, she was shaved. He could just make out the shape of her smooth labia. He tried to peer through the shadows, desperate, but he couldn’t make out any more detail. Just the glimpse was enough, though. It was more than enough, the state she’d put him in. Was it his sex-revved imagination, or were those delicate folds of flesh glistening from arousal? She resituated her book on her upper thigh, shifting her hips slightly. Air popped out of his lungs. His cock raged.

  He glanced up at her face. She wore a small, smug smile.

  He snarled slightly. Her grin vanished.

  She had him on a goddamned hook, and she knew it. He’d like to turn her over his knee, and then give her what she deserved.

  Every blessed inch of it.

  She’s turning me into a sex-crazed lunatic, right here in the midst of a hushed reading event.

  He blinked in surprise when he recognized anxiety flashing across her face. Abruptly, his personal view of heaven was gone. She’d turned stiffly in her chair. Now she shoved her book into her purse. He started at her jerky movement, guilt sweeping through him.

  Had he scared her? He had been snarling at her like he was about to eat her up in one bite. Her averted face and furtive movements as she dug around in her purse alarmed him. He started to get up—he wasn’t sure what he planned to say or do, as this was a no-talking zone. A middle-aged woman to the left of him glanced up from her book. Her gaze slid down his body to the giant bulge in his jeans. Her eyes widened.

  He plopped back down into his chair, opening his book on his thighs rapidly to block her view of his crotch. The woman noticed the title on his book. She gave him that disgusted female glare reserved solely for perverts.

  Great, he seethed. Now he was the pond slime who dared to read this revered feminine homage to romance and get a chubby from it.

  He saw the gorgeous woman stand abruptly. She slung her bag over her shoulder. Shit. She was leaving early. And all he could do was sit here and hide his raging erection. She’s coming this way. He’d stop her as she passed. No way he was going to let her get away. Not a chance. But as she came within feet of him, those long legs motoring, he realized she was pointedly avoiding looking at him. She was just in front of him.

  Do something, idiot.

  She dropped her arm as she swept past him. He glanced over his shoulder, stunned by the quickness of her departure, not to mention the tongue-tying rear view of strutting long legs and a twitching, tight ass.

  Planning to rush after her, he leaned down to shove his book in his briefcase, outraged female onlooker be damned. He paused in a bent-over position when he noticed the folded piece of paper on the low coffee table in front of him. It hadn’t been there before. Slowly, he straightened and picked it up, opening the note. There was only one sentence written in a hasty but elegant hand.

  Look out your bedroom window at eleven o’clock tonight and you’ll see everything that you only caught a glimpse of just now.

  His bedroom window? What the hell did that mean?

  He glanced up in bemusement just in time to see the woman snatch the envelope that stored her personal technology from the female attendant. In the time it took him to grab his briefcase and coat off the back of the chair, she was out of the coffee shop.

  He headed straight for the exit, telling himself he’d come back for his tablet and phone. He was cut off in his pursuit just outside the door when a youngish, black-haired bearded guy bumped into him roughly and jogged ahead of him without an apology.

  “Take it easy,” Trey remonstrated, recognizing him as the coughing man who’d been salivating over Sexy Boots just minutes ago. The man continued on his mission unfazed, however, running through the museum’s circular lobby and making a beeline for a bank of glass doors leading to LaSalle Street. Trey glimpsed a long mane of brown hair and scissoring boots rushing out the doors just feet ahead of him.

  Sure, he empathized with any guy’s enthusiasm to catch up to her. Who better? But he didn’t like the dude’s rabid, aggressive pursuit, especially when the woman didn’t look like she wanted to be caught.

  “Hey. I’m talking to you,” Trey shouted. He sprinted and caught the guy’s arm just as he plowed through the glass doors after the female. The man whipped his head around, frowning furiously at being interrupted while on the hunt. His foot stuck at the bottom of the door, keeping it propped open. “Just let her go, man.”

  “Let go, asshole,” the guy seethed. Trey held on to his flailing arm securely, however, glancing behind him onto the street. He saw a cab fly up to the curb. The woman flung open the back door.

  Trey only let go of the man once she was in the cab and the door was shut. He transferred his hand to the handle on the door. The guy staggered a few steps toward the street, only to see the cab pull away from the curb. He turned to Trey, his mouth opening to spew accusations at him, no doubt.

  “She didn’t want to be caught. That wasn’t part of her game,” Trey interrupted. He waited tensely while the guy’s gaze lowered over him, probably assessing his chances in a fight. Black Beard exhaled, wilting a little.

  “How the hell do you know what she wanted?” the guy muttered resentfully under his breath before he reentered the door. He stalked away through the lobby. Trey gritted his teeth, tamping down his irritation. He stood there in the opened door for several seconds, letting the cold November air cool off both his lust and his stupid flash of aggression.

  Maybe the guy had been right. Who knew what a woman like that wanted? She’d been teasing not just him, but the entire room, mercilessly. She was just another manipulative man-eater, exactly the type of woman he was trying to avoid at all costs.

  He was sick of playing conniving females’ games. He was tired of letting his cock dictate his life. At eleven o’clock tonight, his curtains were going to be drawn tight. As penance for his idiocy, maybe he’d force himself to read Pride and Prejudice again.

  The vision of the woman reading that racy book with that open, almost
innocent expression of curiosity crossed his brain, as did the potent recollection of her obvious mounting arousal as she flipped the pages. Christ, she’d been sexy.

  She may have held all the cocks in that room at her mercy, but she gave the note to you.

  His thought sobered him. It signified that he wasn’t entirely free of her hook.

  Not by a long shot.

  —

  Eleanor paced back and forth while she bit at her thumbnail, the Rockerchick boots beating a path on the wood floor of her kitchen.

  “Just because I felt like I was in over my head all of a sudden doesn’t mean Trey knew it. All he knows is that I walked out early from the event. But I left the note. Everyone always says I think too much. That’s all that’s happening, right?” she muttered under her breath and abruptly turned to retrace her path.

  She scowled, because silence wasn’t much of an answer.

  It was an uncomfortable recent realization that she’d started talking to herself more and more. That hadn’t stopped Eleanor from doing it regularly ever since she’d moved into Caddy’s place.

  The big condominium often made her feel very alone.

  “It doesn’t matter, does it?” she continued shakily. The fact of the matter was she knew next to nothing about Trey Riordan other than she lusted after him with an obsessive focus. Guessing his motivations was a pointless exercise. “Either he’ll look out his bedroom window at eleven o’clock because he’s interested, or he won’t. And I will have blown it from the first.”

  She glanced at the kitchen clock and saw that it was ten forty-five. Anxiety boiled in her belly.

  He’d definitely been interested. True, Eleanor had quite an imagination at times. It helped to have the ability to dream a little when she was down in the museum’s basement all alone in the cataloguing or storage rooms, her only company her beloved photographs, costumes, ephemera and books. But she hadn’t imagined Trey Riordan’s attention and arousal. Yes. Arousal. His stare on her had seemed to burn a hole straight down to her core.