by Tawny Taylor
Such bullshit, all of it.
He wanted to make both of them pay, but for some reason, more of his anger was directed at Elena. No doubt because she’d stung his pride. He thought he was a good judge of character. Becker, he’d always suspected was a shit. But Elena…she was quite the little actress.
Now, if only he could tell his dick she wasn’t worth shit.
His cock still got hard when he saw her. His blood warmed. How could he be so fucking attracted to a woman he detested?
Yes, he should probably send her home and let his old man’s private detective do his job. But he knew Becker would find a way to get his fake proof to the brass before the end of the weekend, and who knew whether the detective Kyler had just called would get anything to counter it in time? Nope, dammit, Elena couldn’t leave. Not until his detective had something or she’d told him where the fake documents were. If he was going to save his ass, he needed something concrete to take to the board. He had to strike before Becker.
There was no way in hell those two scheming fucks were going to screw up his life. He knew exactly how to make Elena talk. He’d use the same tool against her as she’d used against him.
Sex.
* * * * *
Elena made it as far as Kyler’s front door but she didn’t have the guts to walk out. At this point, she had no idea what he knew and what he didn’t. She also had no inkling of what proof he might have against her or whether he’d meant it when he’d said he’d have her arrested if she left. At the moment, she supposed the devil she knew was a better risk than the demon she didn’t.
She went back up to her room and shut the door, flopped on the bed, closed her eyes and tried to think her way through this mess. Things were going from bad to worse somehow. Was it a coincidence?
Think, Elena, think.
This wasn’t the first time she’d had to think her way out of an impossible corner. Many years ago, she’d found herself with her back up against a wall, forced to choose between two impossible options.
That decision had impacted so many things, including this whole crap with Matt and Kyler. And still, she knew if she’d been given a second chance, she wouldn’t have been able to make any other choice.
It had been for her brother.
Worry for him made her insides hurt. When she didn’t show up today, he’d be upset. That might not be a big deal for most kids. But for Eddy, a small disappointment could cause major problems. He was so fragile. Delicate.
She glanced at the clock. Kyler had been gone for over an hour. What kind of hell could he be planning for her? She didn’t want to imagine.
If only he’d tell her what he’d learned, let her try to explain. Or not. Depending upon what it was, she supposed an explanation might make things worse.
The door swung open and he walked into the room. His skin was glistening with sweat, his face flushed, and the ends of his hair were spiked, wet.
“Glad to see you didn’t leave.” His words were clipped, his voice frigid.
“I wanted to,” she confessed, sensing he needed to see a little honesty from her. Whatever had made him so upset, she guessed, had to be somehow directly tied to him, his pride. It was his emotional reaction that made her think so. The “I was such a fool” statement.
He nodded.
“Will you tell me why you’re so angry?”
He looked away.
Her nerves crawling, she watched his throat work as he swallowed. Nothing.
“You won’t give me a chance to explain?”
“I don’t know if I can believe anything you say.”
Where did that leave her? This man, whose eyes were cold as icicles, held her job in the palm of his hand. Her job, the medical insurance that paid for her brother’s treatment. Her entire future. She couldn’t get any more desperate than that. “What will it take to prove to you that I can be believed? I stayed. Right? You didn’t lock me in. You won the bet, and I didn’t leave, even though I wanted to.”
“Yeah, well, that could also be because you didn’t want your pretty little ass hauled to jail.”
“I’m not sure that would be any worse,” she said, frankly. “I mean, you’re throwing these threats around, acting one way one second, totally different the next. It’s confusing. Scary.”
Her eyes were burning, darn it. Her nose. Don’t cry. He’ll think you’re trying to manipulate him.
She blinked several times.
His eyes narrowed, his gaze becoming even chillier. Sub-arctic. “There you go with the waterworks again. I see now. Whenever you get backed into a corner, you throw the switch, the tears start to flow, and you’re off the hook.” He crowded her, grabbed her chin, and glared into her eyes. “It doesn’t work with me anymore. I know the truth about you now. I know you’re fucking Matt Becker, and you’re itching for a promotion—from the whore of a sales manager to the whore of a vice president.”
She felt sick. Was that really what he believed? “No, I’m not sleeping with Matt. You’re wrong.”
“Funny.” He dragged his thumb over her lower lip. He walked her backward, until her back hit the wall. He thrust his arms forward, caging her head between them. “But if you’d just come to me, I’d have fucked you. You could’ve had your vice president. In fact…” He dropped his head and kissed her roughly. His tongue thrust into her mouth, in complete domination.
Instantly, her body was on fire. Yes, this was what she’d wanted last night. Pulses of liquid heat pounded down her torso to the juncture of her thighs. Despite her confusion, she kissed him back, letting the searing heat of the kiss burn away everything.
Insanity! This was complete craziness. But she couldn’t help reacting to his kisses. She’d been waiting, ready. She moaned, stroking his tongue with hers. Exploring the sweet depth of his mouth.
He bent his elbows, crushing his hard body against hers. Wedged a knee between her trembling thighs.
Crazy!
She moaned, rocking her hips back and forth, desperate to rub away the ache building between her legs.
He suckled her tongue and she slid her hands up his stomach, whimpering.
Her head was swimming. Her body melting. Her brain short-circuiting. She was falling, sliding down the wall, unable to remain standing another second. Her pussy rested on his knee, a support. Oh, the sensation. The glory of that hard leg against her soft, swollen tissues.
Insanity!
He caught her up into his arms and carried her to the bed, laid her on it and then climbed over her. More of those amazing nuclear-reactor-hot kisses. He gave her more, and she accepted him, eagerly. His hands started at the sides of her face but—much to her joy—didn’t remain there for long. Down her neck they traveled, to her shoulders, lower. He cupped her breasts and she arched her back, pushing her breasts into his hands.
I need to stop this. Right now. Stop. Now.
She tried to turn her head, but he caught her face in his hands again, kissing her until she couldn’t move, didn’t want to move. Wanted nothing less than his hands on her naked body, his cock buried deep inside her wet pussy.
She’d be sorry for this later, no doubt about it. But for the first time in years, she just wanted to forget about shoulds and should-nots and let go, follow her impulses instead of her head.
When Kyler lifted his weight off her body, she slid her hands inside his shirt. Soft skin over flexing, shifting concrete. She found a hard little nipple, teased it with her index finger, and received a low groan as a reward.
He broke the kiss and gazed down at her through heavy-lidded eyes full of raw lust. They weren’t cold anymore, nope. Instead of the arctic blue of a frozen sea they were the steamy blue of a gas flame.
She felt her face warming, her chest. His tongue darted out, slicking his full lower lip, and she stared, transfixed.
This man had the world’s most stunning features. Eyes that instantly made a girl melt. Sharp cheekbones that cast deep shadows on his face. A masculine jaw stubbled with the h
int of a beard. And that mouth, oh that mouth. He tasted better than anything.
She ached for another kiss, another touch—soft and gentle or hard and possessive. Either way, both ways. Didn’t matter.
“Goddamnit,” he muttered. “What the fuck are we doing?”
“I—I don’t know.” She reached up inside his shirt again, found that nipple, flicked her fingertip over the pebbled peak. His lips parted and his gaze heated up another hundred degrees or so. “But I want you to know, it’s not because you’re vice president. I just want you.”
He squeezed her head between his hands, his gaze sharp as razors. “You say the right things…What the hell do I believe?”
She held his penetrating gaze, knowing if she glanced away, she’d lose any chance of gaining his trust. “Believe your heart, Kyler.”
He crushed her body under his and kissed her to oblivion.
Follow his heart. Yeah, that’s what she said. That’s what they all said—women who were looking to manipulate him. Just like his ex-fiancée. Some women knew how to work a man, knew how to use his weaknesses to get what they wanted. He’d made it really easy for Elena too.
Dammit, looks were so fucking deceiving. And here he thought he’d learned. He’d lived by the trust-none-of-them rule for over two years and things had been going so great.
Follow his heart. Hah.
I know what you’re up to, you little schemer.
“Kyler? What’s wrong?”
But dammit, he was so fucking hard right now. He could barely see straight. He’d bet she was wet, her slick passage ready for him. Why should he stop himself? If Elena was willing to give it up, why should he deny himself? He could fuck her, and then he’d leave her sit in this room until Tuesday. If that was what she wanted to do to herself—let men fuck her to get ahead—then that was what she’d get from him.
Still straddling Elena, on his knees, he yanked his shirt off then rolled off the bed and pulled off his pants and underwear. She was still wearing that clingy knit top and those black pants. He wanted to see her fully unclothed but lacked the patience. Instead, after she unbuttoned and unzipped the fly, he just yanked her slacks down her smooth, slender legs and tossed them on the floor. No underpants. Even better.
“Kyler!”
He didn’t meet her gaze as he wedged his hips between her legs. Rolled on a rubber. He didn’t kiss her again, just fingered her slick heat, prepared to drive his cock deep inside her. He replaced his fingers with the tip of his rod.
She shoved at his chest. “Kyler. Stop! Why are you acting like this?”
Dammit.
Fuck.
What the hell was he doing?
He couldn’t go through with this. That would make him no better than that piece of shit, Becker. Disgusted with himself, with Becker, and with Elena, he jerked upright and tugged off the rubber.
“You bastard.” She had no right to look that way at him now, like he was a heartless beast. She’d begged him, not the other way around.
“What’s wrong?” he echoed. “Wasn’t this what you expected?”
She didn’t speak, just dragged her legs back together and pulled the coverlet over herself.
“I guess that’s a no.” He tossed the rubber in the trashcan then grabbed his pants and shirt. He stepped into his sweats, didn’t bother with the underwear or the tank. He sat on the edge of the bed.
Elena’s eyes were frigid, her gaze distant, her expression completely blank. For about three seconds, he was actually sorry for treating her like the whore she was determined to be. Then she swung her little fist at him, her target, his nose.
He dodged the blow and pushed to his feet. “A little hint. If you’re going to use sex to get what you want, you’ve got to learn to look at it like a pro. It’s just a fuck. A cock and a pussy.”
He left, shutting the door behind him, closing himself off from Elena…and the guilt eating at his gut.
* * * * *
Elena wasn’t sure what was worse—the shame she felt after that…whatever it was. The knowledge that she was fucked in an altogether different way. Or the fact that she was totally devastated by Kyler’s absolutely frigid treatment.
He’d treated her like she was a worthless piece of crap. Why? He’d said she was using sex to get what she wanted. That was the farthest thing from the truth.
Maybe it was simply impossible for the two of them to communicate. It seemed he was always misreading her, mistrusting her, misunderstanding her. What had set him off this time?
Oh, who cared? She didn’t need this shit. She just needed to go home, do some packing, and try to figure out how she’d start over again.
She was exhausted already. She inched open the door, finding her purse out in the hallway, empty, the contents strewn all over the floor. Eyes blurry with tears, she gathered her cosmetics, wallet, receipts and hair brush, stuffed them back in her purse. Then she hurried down the hall, making a beeline for the staircase. As she skipped down the steps, she kept looking, listening for Kyler, expecting him to pop out from somewhere and make good on his threat. She made it as far as the foot of the staircase before she stopped.
It sure would be nice if she could find her car keys. Was it worth a shot? She heard a sound from the general direction of the greatroom. Oh, hell, she was already eyeball deep in trouble. What worse could happen? She rushed back upstairs. There were seven doors, all closed. One of them, she knew, led to her room.
She started at the one closest to the stairs. Opened it. Peeked inside. Gasped. Shut it.
Not the room she was looking for, nope.
She opened the door again. Wow. She’d never seen a room like this before, well, not in person. A bondage room. Dungeon.
She’d always wondered what it would be like playing in a room like this. Playing. What a word.
The truth was, she’d been curious about BDSM for quite some time. She’d done a lot of reading, soul searching. She’d even mentioned it to Ashley.
Maybe Ashley was right, her fascination with domination and submission was because she’d been forced to grow up too early, had the weight of her younger brother’s care dumped on her slender shoulders before she’d been truly ready to handle it. She didn’t know. All she knew was that this world, of submission and trust and control, was calling to her. She sensed it would fill a deep need.
If only she’d been able to find the right man to explore these things with. Ironic, that Kyler was into this stuff. After today, he was the last man she’d trust with her vulnerabilities.
She glanced over her shoulder, checking the hall before moving deeper into the room. Touching the furniture would make it more real, more possible. She headed for the sex swing first. How’d the thing work? It was little more than a collection of metal poles and straps, now that she was closer. The seat was just a narrow band. Same with the back.
She headed for another piece, a pair of benches angling away from each other, a wooden cross was affixed to the wall at the point where they met. She sat on the benches, legs spread so that a thigh rested on each one, supporting her weight. Nothing sat directly beneath her bottom. She closed her eyes, indulging in a quick fantasy. If she was naked and with a dark and mysterious Dom…
The door swung open and, desperate to not be caught sitting on Kyler’s bondage gear with her legs spread—especially after his last comment—she flopped forward, landing on her hands and knees.
Of course he’d found her here. It was just her luck.
“Now that’s an interesting position,” he said from the doorway. His voice was sharp, his gaze piercing, smoldering.
Oh God, she was mortified.
Trying to save face, she scooped up her purse and scrambled to her feet. She wanted to give him some excuse for being in this room, but what could she possibly say that wouldn’t make her look even worse? Already, he believed she was a whore, the kind of woman who fucked her way into a promotion. Nothing she’d said had convinced him otherwise. In fact, it seemed the la
st words she’d spoken had made things a lot worse.
So, rather than offer him up some more ammunition to use against her, she jerked her gaze from his and hurried past him, back to her room. Once inside, she collapsed on the bed.
What now?
She really, really wanted to find her keys before she headed out. Was it practical for her to leave without them? Never mind her car, her house was locked too. She’d have to break in to get inside.
She dug in her purse for her phone, flipped it open. Down to one bar now. Shoot! Did it have enough juice to call Ashley? Maybe she shouldn’t use up the last few nanoseconds of her cell’s battery life now, when she might be able to use a landline to call instead.
The cordless phone had been downstairs, in the kitchen. She wondered if Kyler had another phone upstairs. Most people had more than one phone jack, especially in a house this size.
She checked her room, found no phone. She listened at the door. It sounded like Kyler had gone back downstairs. Good. She’d go hunting again. Most people had a phone in the master bedroom.
She inched open the door, peered up and down the hall. No Kyler. Good. She tiptoed down the hall to the next door, opened it. Another bedroom. But it looked like another guest room.
What did one person need with a bazillion bedrooms, anyway? This house was ridiculously big for a single guy. He practically had enough beds to sleep in a different one each night.
She closed that door and headed to the next one. Another guest bedroom. Then a bathroom. Finally, at the end of the hall, she found the master bedroom. And oh, what a master bedroom it was.
The guestrooms were all very nice. Kyler’s room made them look like rooms at a cheapskate motel. It was decorated nothing like the rest of the house. Instead of the contemporary style of the main living areas and guest bedrooms, it was much more elegant, sophisticated, yet traditional. A bed the size of a football field sat in the center of one wall, framed by floor-to-ceiling windows draped in gorgeous curtains. Three walls were painted a soft silvery-blue. The fourth, the one with the bed and windows, was a deep, cool brown, with the exception of directly behind the headboard. That section of wall boasted three large white panels, framed in ornate trim. The bed itself was a masterpiece. The black headboard had a sexy, slightly French-ish, curved shape and was hand-painted with swirling ivy and flowers. In another room, it might’ve looked feminine, but not in this one.
