At His Bidding

by Faye Avalon

  Further aided by his father’s patient efforts to help his son turn his life around, Zack had worked and sweated his way by legitimate means to make a success of his life. He’d become the co-owner of a string of health spas set within prestigious hotels throughout London and other European cities. Yet, despite his best efforts, he’d never been able to persuade Petra that he was capable of reform. The truth of it had his temper spiking.

  “Sit the hell down and have some coffee,” he said, unable to disguise the irritation in his tone. “Maybe you’ll be a bit more amiable after a shot of caffeine.”

  She held her ground. “I’m amiable enough, thank you. At least, when the company is to my liking.”

  Shit. This wasn’t going to plan. He’d thought to charm her, but he should have known it wouldn’t be easy. He should have also known from past experience that she’d be able to piss him off faster than the coffee percolated.

  “Where do you keep your cleaning equipment?” She bent down and started opening cupboards under the sink. “Or is that a stupid question. You’re probably too busy making money to worry about such trivialities.”

  “I’ve got a housekeeper who comes in three times a week, if that’s what you mean. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “No. Nothing at all. I imagine it takes a lot of time and energy keeping abreast of developments in your line.”

  “In my line?”

  “Hotels. Spas. And whatever else you’ve got your tawdry little fingers in.”

  His tenuous control on his temper snapped. “What the fuck is your problem anyway?”

  She straightened up, a bottle of cleaning liquid in one hand and cloth in the other. “My problem is that I know why I’m here, Cunningham. Seeing as you’ve always tried your best to get me in the sack for free, why would I possibly think you wouldn’t expect me to put out for a hundred grand?”

  “You flatter yourself if you think I’d pay that much for sex.”

  “Really? And yet here I am.”

  He nodded toward the cleaning gear in her hands. “Time’s ticking. Maybe you’d better get started on your domestic duties.”

  She raised her hands in the air as if to say, “That’s what I’m here for.”

  “Where would you like me to start, oh masterful one?”

  He tapped his fingers on the counter in the hope it would release some of the tension building in his chest. “Shower could do with a spruce.”

  She bowed low. “As you wish.”

  Balling his hands into fists, he strode out and toward his study, where he barely resisted giving the door a healthy slam behind him. What the fuck had possessed him to go through with this? He had plenty of female company, had no difficulty landing whatever woman he set his sights on. Why the hell Petra Brooks got under his skin like no other was a fucking mystery.

  He booted his laptop and decided to get some work done. He had a contract negotiation to review with his lawyers, travel plans to confirm, and a myriad of other administrative details he could do from home. He really should be at his office, but instead he was here getting his ass chewed.

  He thought of her in that white tee, the outline of a bra visible beneath. He wanted his hands on those breasts, his mouth sucking at her sumptuous flesh, his tongue laving across her nipples. He wanted her naked beneath him, at his mercy to explore in any way he deemed fit. Shit, he wanted his cock inside her, pounding into her until she screamed his name.

  Fuck. Now he was bloody hot and bothered, his erection straining against his trousers. If he’d found it difficult to concentrate on business before, now it was near impossible.

  He could hear her moving around in his wet room. Damn it, but the last thing he’d expected her to be doing there was cleaning. When he’d imagined it, she was naked, slammed up against the shower wall while he nailed her good.

  As his cock throbbed, he gave up all pretense of trying to work and went into the kitchen for that coffee. He saw the two mugs he’d set out earlier still waiting by the percolator. He touched a palm to the jug. Lukewarm. He tipped it out and brewed fresh.

  If he had any sense of self-preservation, he’d change into his suit, go to his office, and leave her to it. All he had to do was give her a list of things she could do, and he could hightail it out of there. Any decent man would hand over the check and tell her to forget her end of the bargain.

  Maybe there was just a little bit of him left that wasn’t all straight and narrow after all. If he’d given up after the first hurdle where his business was concerned, he’d still be running errands for the big boys. As it was, he’d kicked and fought his way to where he was now, and he’d didn’t plan on stopping until he reached what he dreamed of for himself. He had plans, dreams. And fuck it to heaven, he wasn’t a man to give in without a fight.

  So he’d fight, he thought, pouring coffee into two mugs. Before the end of the day, he’d have Petra Brooks in his bed if it fucking killed him.

  She’d finished in the wet room, so he went in search of her. He found her in his bedroom, tossing pillows. He had a moment, seeing her delicious breasts jiggling as she shook the pillows, and imagining going over to her and shoving her onto the bed. But then she froze and looked at him.

  “Thought you might be needing this about now,” he said, lifting the mug in her direction.

  She eyed him for long moments, as if weighing up his motives. Then she placed the pillows onto the bed, smoothed out the linen, and came over to him. “Thanks.”

  She took the coffee and headed out of his bedroom, toward his study. He followed her and watched her set down the untouched coffee on a side table. “I don’t suppose you want me to touch anything here in your man cave, do you?”

  The edge of snide in her voice set off his irritation levels again, but he banked it down. No way was he going to continue to let her get a rise out of him, at least not where his temper was concerned. “Not especially.”

  “Thought not.”

  She surveyed the room in a way that made Zack wonder if she were checking for hooky goods. He clutched his coffee and reminded himself not to react. But it was getting damned hard.

  “Tell me one thing,” he began, his fingers tightening further around his cup. “On what basis are you casting these assumptions you have about me? Are you in possession of some particular evidence you want to share? Some proof of my continued transgressions?”

  She walked back, picking up her coffee on the way. “I know who you are, Cunningham. I was there those times when the police chased after you, when they hauled you off to the station, when you appeared at the magistrate’s court.”

  He dropped a shoulder against the doorframe. “So you’re basing everything on mistakes I made as a kid years ago. Can’t you do better that that, Brooks?”

  She strolled his office, her mug cupped between her hands. “Leopards and spots, and all that.”

  Again, he wondered why the hell he should care so much that she thought so badly of him. If he had a brain, he’d dump this harebrained idea of having her in close proximity for a day so he could set about changing her opinion of him—and finally have a chance of getting to first base. And beyond.

  Instead, he let his gaze wander up and down her delectable body while she surveyed the photos and framed paraphernalia on his walls. He imagined going over to her, shoving those tight jeans down around her hips, and baring her ass to his heated gaze. His palms actually itched with the need to cup her fleshy rear, to dig his fingers into the soft flesh as he readied her to take his throbbing cock. Her pussy would be hot and wet, and he’d shove in up to the hilt and drive her hard until she screamed his name and begged for more. He’d empty himself and then he’d—

  “What’s this?”

  He jerked, tearing his gaze away from her backside, and his mind from his happy meanderings, to look at the photo on the wall that had caught her attention. “It’s me and Doug. Outside the bank after they’d agreed to our first loan for the business. Doug thought the moment called for a selfi
e.”

  Pushing away from the doorframe, he strolled over to join her in her perusal of him and his friend and business partner, grinning at the camera.

  “How did you get started?”

  Her voice was so low, he had to lean in a little. “Bob Matthews was selling his gym. Doug and I used to go there to work out. It was pretty much a dump, but it did what we needed and it was convenient to get to. We often talked about how, if we owned it, we’d pump it up. We knew the place could be a proverbial gold mine with the right management and refurbishment. Good location for catching the city crowd, close to a tube station with good connections, bus routes. When Bob mentioned he was looking to retire and sell up, we set about planning how we could buy him out.”

  “And you got a bank loan?”

  “No need to sound quite so shocked. How did you think we started the business, by using the hoards of pilfered cash I’d stashed away during my misspent youth?”

  When she didn’t answer, he realized that was exactly what she thought. He bussed her along the row of photographs. “See this here? That was taken the day we got the papers for the place. The day it became ours.”

  He watched her as she looked at the photograph of him and Doug, with their arms around each other’s shoulders and sporting big, cheesy grins, standing outside the gym with the peeling sign above that declared Bob’s Gym. But not for much longer.

  “We stripped most of the place ourselves. We couldn’t afford to hire out. Between us, we had friends and contacts who gave us mate’s rates for stuff like plumbing, electricity, carpentry, but we did most of the preparation ourselves.”

  Still she didn’t answer, but sipped her coffee as she continued to move along the walls and survey the photos. He followed close, intoxicated by her heady scent and the way her hair teased across her shoulders.

  Suddenly, she turned and faced him, her mug held close to her chest like a shield. “Answer me one thing, Zack.”

  It pleased him beyond measure that for once she’d used his forename, but the narrow-eyed look she gave him alerted him to danger. “If I can.”

  “Are you bullshitting me?”

  “About what?” Although he already knew.

  “Your business dealings, the way you started your empire. Was it all aboveboard?”

  He kept his eyes hard on hers, wanting her to be in no doubt of his sincerity when he answered, “Yes.”

  “And now? Are you involved in anything shady?”

  “No.”

  He willed her to see the truth of it. Realized that right then he wanted nothing more than for her to believe him, to see him as a good guy, one who played it straight.

  Her eyes narrowed, and he felt a flicker of unease. “You’re telling me that you don’t break the law, that you don’t cut corners, get involved with anyone from the old days?”

  “I don’t break the law, unless you count the odd speeding ticket, and I don’t cut corners. I do have contact with people from the old days, mostly those who have gone straight and are now legit. Maybe I skirt the rules from time to time, at least financially, but nothing that’ll have the cops knocking at my door.”

  He took a chance and ran his hand down her arm. “I know how difficult it was for you with your dad and all. I swear to God, I’d never put you through anything like that.”

  She looked at him and made his heart squeeze tight in his chest. Shit, but the woman could knock a man’s breath clear from his lungs.

  “I’d really like to believe you.”

  He set his mug down, reached out to prize her fingers from around her own. He took her arms and drew her in. “Then give me a chance. Let me prove it.”

  Chapter Three

  Petra wanted to believe Zack. She hadn’t realized how much she wanted to believe him until she was in his arms, until she was gazing up into his warm brown eyes, and his scent flooded her nostrils. His muscular arms held her still, tight enough that she felt the rock hard muscles of his chest against her tender breasts. When he pulled her closer, his erection pressed against her, flooding her pelvis with heat and making her pussy throb.

  Oh hell, she was in serious trouble. Up to now, she’d mostly been able to keep him firmly behind the barrier she’d erected to keep herself safe, remembering that he was once a bad lot, that she couldn’t trust him. But now, seeing those photos had somehow smashed down the barrier, leaving her nothing behind which to hide. There was no longer any reason to fight the attraction that she’d had all these years, the one that she’d struggled to ignore because she had never wanted a man like her father. A charmer with light fingers, and an eye for the main chance.

  She really did want to believe him. At that moment, in his arms, she wanted it so much. But it seemed that barrier still had a few bricks left standing. “What did you mean when you said you skirted the rules?”

  He pursed his lips, but his hold on her didn’t lessen. “I’ve got money stashed in offshore accounts, mostly for tax purposes. And maybe I’ll grease someone’s palm from time to time if it helps move things along on one of my projects.”

  “Does Doug know?”

  “Yeah. We’re partners, through and through. He knows of my misspent youth, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  Zack drew her even closer and lowered his head until their mouths were a whisper apart. “Why don’t you give me that chance? Let me show you just what kind of man I really am.”

  She didn’t respond, she couldn’t. Her throat had tightened right up, and she’d seemed to lose all feeling in her legs. Only his arms around her anchored her, kept her upright.

  Oh shit. Those few remaining bricks were in serious danger of toppling.

  A moment later, Zack’s lips pressed down hard on hers, and it was as if he were the match to her kindling. Her body responded immediately, flames licking at her flesh and an inferno flaming through her torso. She touched her hands to his arms, all that hard muscle and strength evident beneath the sleeves of his soft cotton shirt.

  As he deepened the kiss, Petra slipped her hands up to his shoulders, around his neck, into the silky ends of his dark hair. When his tongue demanded entry, she opened to his insistent mouth. The sensation of his hot, firm tongue clashing with hers shot awareness between her legs and intensified the dampness that had been gathering there.

  Her pussy throbbed and she pressed against him, welcoming his persistence.

  Still with his mouth pressed to hers, he walked her backward until she was pressed against the wall. His hands slid down her back, slowly, firmly, and he cupped her jean-clad ass. She moaned into his mouth and pulled him closer. He wasn’t close enough. God, she wondered if he’d ever be close enough.

  He hiked her hips, her feet almost leaving the floor, and she felt the long, hard ridge of his erection grind against her.

  He released her mouth, only to press open-mouthed kisses along her throat, his hot breath blazing an electrifying trail over her flesh.

  “Shit,” he ground out against her throat. “I’ve got to have you.”

  Petra tipped her head back and closed her eyes. Absently, she clutched for any remaining bricks, but found only dust where that wall had once stood. There was no point in even pretending she could resist him anymore, or that this hadn’t been inevitable from the moment she’d first met him as a cocky teenager.

  She lowered her head and met Zack’s eyes. “Then take me.”

  After several moments while he assessed her with those hot, chocolate eyes, he lowered his head and kissed her again. The kiss was beyond passionate, almost brutal, but Petra matched it.

  He reached for the edge of her T-shirt and whipped it from her waistband. His fingers brushed her waist, and she felt the reaction straight between her legs. In answer she pushed up his shirt, and in unison they unfastened the snaps at the waistband of each other’s jeans. Zack was faster, probably because her hands were currently shaking and her fingers felt clumsy. He had her jeans hiked down around her hips and was tugging her tee over her head.
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  She had a brief moment to thank some knowing universe that had her pulling on matching, and sexy, underwear that morning. Virginal white, but the cut was anything but. The bra was a push- up, edged with filigree lace, and gave her already acceptable breasts a deep cleavage. The panties had the same lace around the high legs and the top edge that skimmed her navel.

  “Nice,” Zack said, his gaze sliding between her breasts and pussy as if he didn’t know quite where to focus. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to have you like this?”

  Too long, she thought as his hands pressed the sides of her breasts and deepened her cleavage. Too bloody long. Right now, she didn’t know how she’d ever managed to keep away from him.

  She tugged at his shirt and with his help managed to divest him of it so that she gazed at his chest—his hard, muscular chest—and felt anticipation rip through her like a train. His breath, like her own, deepened and set his chest heaving. All those wonderful muscles and sinews expanded and contracted beneath her hands, as she ran her palms over his flesh.

  “You’ve got some nice muscles here, Cunningham. Does that mean you actually make use of those gyms and spas of yours?”

  “I like to keep active,” he said with that cocky grin. “Are you complaining?”

  With her eyes on his, she slid down his zipper. “Not a bit. Just making an observation.”

  He brushed her hands away as she made to push down his trousers. “Maybe I want to do a spot of observing of my own, Brooks.” He reached around and unhooked her bra, sliding the straps away slowly while his eyes stayed hot on hers.

  Petra felt her nipples tighten, her breasts tingle, but Zack made no attempt to pull her bra away. Instead, he let it stay there covering her breasts while the sides fell away, and the straps lay across her upper arms. He slid his hands across her rib cage, his fingers just avoiding the lower edge of the loosened bra.